elliewill

[elliewill]

the fox burrows.

YOU NEVER STOOD A CHANCE. no marks, no truth, no sun. you weren't hers, and she'd never be yours.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

tags: nsfw mdni. angst, hurt no comfort, smut, strap on sex. implied infidelity. inspired by fleabag.

w/c: 1.6k

a/n: some of y'all wouldn't know angst if it slapped u in ur face! so enjoy this! ⸺ℰ

It’s pathetic.

The way you say it, the way you look at Ellie– it was all so pathetic, so pointless. You open your big mouth, with your too-big heart, your bloody teeth, and your sharp tongue. And yet the words that come out are tender– soft like Ellie’s hair, warm like the blood under your skin.

“I love you.” 

Ellie smiles– sad, understanding, patient. Whether or not she reciprocated it was out of the question because Ellie is with someone and it’s not you. It takes everything in you to not tell Ellie to shut up, to just let the words live in the space between them. It takes everything in you to not beg Ellie to let you have this one thing– for once just let you have something, even if it made your heart wilt in your chest.

Ellie is quiet for the first time in a long time. 

Then, as the wind dies down, and the stars shine bright, she speaks.

“It’ll pass.” 

It’s the biggest lie you’ve ever heard. It makes you laugh– wet, on the verge of a sob, but not quite there. You don't say anything– not when Ellie grabs your hand or kisses your knuckles. Not when she stares and stares and stares. Not even when Ellie moves to get up. 

“If I had told you sooner–” You dare to ask, “Would it have mattered?”

Ellie pretends to think, but you both know the answer. 

Ellie was dead set on getting back together with Dina– ever since she showed back up to Jackson, ever since Abby and that kid had shown her that she could have her own happy ending, that some things were worth trying for more than once.

You never even had a chance. 

—

You are, for all intents and purposes of the word, hopeless. 

Probably not a hopeless romantic, just hopeless as a human being. Sometimes, you think that you were never supposed to get a happy ending. That the closest you (or any version of yourself for that matter) would’ve gotten to a happy ending is getting bitten in an alleyway– leaving behind nothing and no one.

You were never sure why. You weren't even sure if you wanted to know. 

Ellie was always really pushy during sex– she liked to move you until she had you exactly where she wanted you. You never had an issue with it, actually liked it when Ellie told you what to do or where to be. All you had to do was listen and–

“Be good, baby.”

Sometimes Ellie would ask you if something was okay– if she could do this or do that and you would just stare. You could never think of anything Ellie could do to you that you wouldn’t love– you could never come up with anything you didn’t like. It was sickening, how much you wanted Ellie. You never understood it– why Ellie asked for permission like you weren't splayed out in front of her, thighs spread, cunt dripping between each other. 

She’d ask until you gave her a verbal answer, and when you did, Ellie would smile big, warm, and sweet. 

“Fuck–” You hissed, Ellie’s strap pumping in and out of you over and over again, making you dizzy. Your nails always threatened to scar her when Ellie was this rough, but you knew better. You knew–

“No marks,” Ellie breathed, pushing her face into your neck, “Fuck, baby–” 

It’s difficult not to scratch– difficult not to bite. You had to keep your hands on the mattress and your fingers would twist the sheets because you can’t mark Ellie, can never mark Ellie– no marks, no marks, no biting– 

Never any fucking marks. 

“Fuck,” Ellie moaned again, her lips against your ear, “So fucking good.”

Ellie always liked to pound into you– never did it slow, at least, not for long. She never really took her time, but neither did you, so you guessed it was a mutual thing. It was always easy to cum with Ellie– she knew what she was doing. She learned quickly exactly what you wanted– needed– and she memorized exactly what to do to make you cum quick. 

You were never sure if it was because Ellie cared or if she was just being efficient. 

“Ellie,” you whimpered, “Please, just–”

And it just burned you– because you knew that Ellie knew what you wanted. And she made you beg for it anyway.

—

You did a lot of stupid things– like putting plastic tupperware in the oven, leaving your laundry out right before it starts to pour, forgetting to correctly saddle your horse. You could go on. 

So, it’s not all that surprising when you did another stupid thing. 

You weren't entirely sure what had come over you. You wanted to blame something else– someone else, some outside source that made you read too much into the things Ellie did for you. 

Doing stupid things was your best skill– second to your bad luck. 

Ellie had checked up on you– again. She liked to do that. She brought you snacks and water and sometimes she’d bring bread if she’d managed to snag extra, but that time she had just brought herself. She’d been tired and unkept, hair in a lazy bun and sweats sporting grass stains, but you thought she looked perfect.

So, when Ellie got close enough, when she’d looked you in the eye for a little too long, you looked at her lips. A momentary lapse. Ellie hadn’t moved away, but you should have given her the benefit of the doubt– she probably didn’t notice that you had even looked. Even so, you were too in love to give her the benefit of the doubt– too hopeful when you should have been hopeless. 

You kissed her. It was soft, barely there, and it had made your lips tingle. Ellie didn’t move, so you didn’t either, but then it sucker-punched you that she was probably just your friend. 

When you shifted back, Ellie followed you and pressed your lips together, harder than before. 

You thought you had maybe overdosed on those pills Tommy had given you– that maybe you were hallucinating or you were in a concerningly realistic dream. It’s when Ellie cupped your check that you realized you weren’t dreaming, so you moved your hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer. The force of your kisses turned bruising the more time went by, the more Ellie pulled you closer, like she wanted to sit on your lap, which is a little laughable, but you liked it. 

You were pleasantly surprised when she shifted on your lap, knees spread, your thigh directly meeting the warmth between her own thighs. 

She sighed against your mouth, grinding down against you, your own cunt beginning to drool in your panties. 

Ellie was gasping against your lips, your hands gripping her waist with a kind of strength only you could have at this moment with her so close– something akin to a dragon hoarding a pearl, and you hold her between your hands, teeth ready to bare.

It made you dizzy, made you needy, made you run your fingers through Ellie’s hair and pull. 

You were pressing kisses to her neck when Ellie rasped out, “No marks.” 

You didn’t think anything of it.

You should’ve. 

—

You met Ellie immediately after being thrown into Jackson with no family. 

You were told that these people– this community– is your new family. That they would take up the space of your parents, your siblings, your friends. You can’t really remember the last time you’d seen them, let alone talked to them. You were out of your depth, and Ellie saw right through you. 

It’s easy to find her after meeting her at what you could only describe as orientation. You were told to be up by 8 in the goddamn morning to learn the law of the land– how Jackson worked, how you could help out. Ellie knew where to run off to and she’d hinted at it when you’d rolled your eyes at Maria saying, “We’re a tight knit community who spends lots of time together.” – needless to say you weren’t interested.

You tried your best to be nonchalant when you showed up. Ellie had her back to you as she scribbled in her notebook– marking the pages with words you couldn’t make out and drawings that looked nicer than you cared to admit.

“Welcome,” Ellie drawled, gesturing vaguely next to her, “I figured you’d stop by.”

You stepped forward till you were by her side, and only then did Ellie look up. You watched the way her hair caught the moonlight, and grew embarrassed when too much time passed. You cleared your throat and looked away.

“Loosen up,” she laughed quietly, and your stomach flipped. You did your best, but you weren’t sure it was working. Ellie was already sitting, so you figured you’d join her. You sat criss-cross, fingers pulling at weeds absentmindedly.

“Not from around here, are ya?” Ellie asked, glancing over.

You shook your head with a low chuckle. 

“Wow, what would Jackson do without its private-eye?" you mocked, “Not like I’m new here or anything.” 

“Nice to meet you, newbie,” Ellie grinned, holding her hand out for a shake, “I’m Ellie.”

“Ditto,” you replied, grasping Ellie’s hand, “Nice tattoo.”

It’s when Ellie looks at you with that stupid smile on her face, lips parting to say her thanks, her fingers at your pulse. It’s then that something embeds itself into your chest cavity, a carving along your ribs one through seven. Eight, nine, and ten feel the vibrations. Eleven and twelve long for the same sentiment.

You never stood a chance.

[elliewill]

im gonna rant abt tlou show rn if u don't wanna hear it then... avert thine eyes? if u disagree i just... don't care...

sooo this show is absolute booty cheeks LMFAOOOO everything about it needs to go. im not a fan of the ellabs casting, idc if they're great actors. the writing is atrocious, the story is nawt the same. abby shouldn't be skinny, ellie shouldn't be happy, dina shouldn't be "curious" also like. if ppl are mad that bella was cast as ellie... first of all why are u that mad..... second of all its not ridiculous to say that bella wasn't the best choice. like its not a shot towards bella lmfao she got the job didn't she??? she be gettin paid, tf does that gotta to do w me. coming for her looks is a bit much, its never that serious but i def think the costume, hair, and makeup departments could've just stepped it up a notch like cmon neow. cosplayers should not be out doin y'all. u got all this money for production and what???? shovin it up ur ass it seems like

anyway! changing dina's character this much is absolutely wild, i love isabela i def think she's a good choice, great actress all around but... "you're gay, i'm not" what in the mf.... you have me so fucked up lmfao im not even the biggest fan of dina in the game but THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK ARE YOU DOINNNNNNNN

and what in the mf... is abby doin... calling joel handsome? and giving a stupid ass villain speech? and being an overall dick? AND NOT BEING BUILT LIKE AN OX? #notmyabby bc WHAT? abby is a sweetheart in the game, murder and adultery aside lmfao, and ik for a fact ur not doing her like this. why is she not built. that's how she coped. what in the fuck are u doing.

and why the fuck is ellie nice rn bro lmfao why is she cracking jokes why is she saying "im gonna be a dad" mf YOUR dad just died and ur fingering ur gf not giving a rats ass about it. and tommy also not giving a fuck? some fuckin brother he is tf. why are u doing these characters like this what is wrong with you fr. how do u fuck up something that was already written out for u

scratches head anyway i think if we stop pretending this show is good the world would be a better place. me personally that's a personal opinion as is everything else so if u have beef... again with respect i do not care, and i say that with peace and love in my heart ok

[elliewill]

What happened to part 3 of fools game?

hahaaaa good question…… so the part 2 you see linked in the masterlist is actually the original part 3! the part 3 was always smut. part 2 used to be more angst but i read it back a few months ago and didnt fuck w it anymore.

[elliewill]

feeling? honored

i love my lesbian mothers sm

[elliewill]

free from the shackles of academia after submitting my thesis?!! ms in biostats and six fig job incoming….??!

[elliewill]

I love her (this took so long)

[elliewill]

the prodigal daughter.

⁀➷ an ellie-and-joel blurb by an ex-catholic.

“if somehow the lord gave me a second chance at that moment, i would do it all over again.”

would you, ellie?

do you believe in god, my love? do you fear him? hate him? do you resent him like a daughter forsaken?

ellie was never one to believe in god, no. but whatever god Joel spoke of, she could imagine the rules.

in order to survive, you must first be ready to damn yourself to an eternal hell.

you must be prepared for your name to be swallowed by the mouth of Peter at the heavenly gates. just as Joel did, in his final moments. to acknowledge the sins you had no choice but to make in the playground of your hands.

but do you believe in punishment, ellie? if not by god, then by nature? an eye for an eye. a heart for a heart. a sister for a brother. a father for a daughter?

no, yes, i understand.

perhaps there is no father named God. no mother named Nature. no fickle gods who delight in mortal suffering.

but when she looks at Joel — when she looked — she sometimes thought that maybe there could be. that maybe she could swallow some sort of true faith in a bitter sip of Joel’s untouched coffee.

but her prize for her sacrifice was her penance in saltwater, nowhere near holy, with some distant god watching from the horizon.

is that what he damned himself for? is that what he said he’d damn himself for again, given a first pass of mercy by god?

would dressing herself a second time in the blood of enemies slain — mothers, fathers — give herself worth? whose soul did she save?

she wondered if she had taken the rowboat, whether she could ferry herself, like charon, to the other side of the endless, moonlit wallow. toward the skyline, where her silent, deist god sat, beckoning the girl to her purgatory.

where Joel —

where her father remained with an arm outreached, a hand washed from its impurities, to welcome his prodigal daughter home.

[elliewill]

remember when it was fun

[elliewill]

takin' what's not yours.

ALMOST LOVERS. so close, but not quite. ellie sends you a note that might rekindle what you nearly had.

word count: 4.9k warnings: nsfw mdni, infidelity, secretive behavior, pussy-eating, strapon r!receiving, messy tribbing, vague description of squirting tags: ex-bestfriends with benefits. long term homoerotic secret-third-thing. forbidden. a playful fuck born of yearning.

ELLIE HAD BEEN looking down at her third mixed drink when her stomach lurched at the thought of having to finish it. She never liked vodka. She wasn’t sure why she even chose it to begin with.

“I missed you,” Ellie said, setting her drink down on her coffee table, fiddling with the coaster her drink sat on. 

It was a childish thing to say. Childish, naïve, maybe even teetering on reckless. Ellie couldn’t help herself; it was nothing she hadn’t said before, although circumstances now would imply heavier consequences. 

You returned to an acquaintance of Ellie’s. A quiet awareness of each other, clearing paths to avoid regrettable collision. You repelled each other’s pull to orbit with nothing but sheer will and an intense fear of embarrassment.

An acquaintance, sure. But what did that mean when you’ve known the exact way in which the lines of Ellie’s neck join her collarbones, her shoulders? When Ellie had etched in her mind the way your silhouette takes its shape against the natural light while you’re sound asleep, nothing but a beautifully sun-drenched figure? 

It didn’t mean much at all, apparently. Her sheets have always held your scent — but it’d been six months too long since you’d been in her sheets anyway. Although that side of the bed wasn’t yours. And never had been. In fact, it was someone else’s now.

Still, you were no stranger. But Ellie had been bolder. And she’d been responsible for far more reckless things. 

So have you.

C’mon. Say it.

“I… missed you too.” 

The words ran from your mouth in a long breath; you were unsure whether the confession was intentional or by accident, but the words hung in the air now. She heard it. And you wrung your hands a bit, trying your best to bluff, still uncertain of what game she sought to play. 

She wouldn’t let you catch her eyes, and whether that choice of hers was sheepish or cocky, you couldn’t tell.

It would be too brave of you, too bold, to express what you’d really thought. Right? Wasn’t it? 

A swirling nostalgia settled in your stomach, and you played with the idea of drinking its temptation in full. Among the inside jokes stashed in between the couch cushions you sat on, you could probably still find one or two popcorn kernels lodged in there, too.

Could you maybe eat like a normal person? The movie’s not that scary, El.

Ha. Pshhh, I’m not scared. I’m just saving those for later. Obviously.

This was just a friendly, strictly-platonic get-together for two, just as you had done so many times before. You and your best friend had always been tightly knit – sewn, if you were being honest – until seams all but unraveled just a few months ago. You both found new ways to occupy your time, new hands to hold, new lips to kiss. More time to make for someone else.

And yet, that corny envelope and handwritten note still somehow slipped underneath your door earlier that day. Come over for some drinks? If you want. Definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to. Dina’s at Jesse’s for the night, if that means anything.

If that means anything.

“It’s okay that you’re with her, by the way." 

Attempting to save both you and herself from the silence, Ellie’s heart had spoken through gritted teeth, although her lips made sure the words rang polite. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips when she realized she wouldn’t have to hear you backtrack.

She peeled the coaster out from beneath her drink and leaned over to grab your third drink, watching the condensation pool beneath the empty glass of ice. You swallowed the words as hard as you tried to untangle them. And the thought of Dina caught and hung itself like an anchor in your stomach. 

Dina was good for Ellie. And to save face, you’ve mustered the courage to say that your new lover was good for you, too. No matter the words exchanged in quiet – those were lovers’ quarrels and you always made up. The nights spent alone meant nothing, that was just how she coped. And forget the comments, they were funny! Even you laughed. Right? This was good. Why wouldn’t it be okay? Of course, it was okay. You and Ellie had only ever been friends. Or something like that.

“Whew!” You sarcastically pretended to wipe away sweat above your brow. After pressing your lips together in an attempt to conceal a smirk, you continued, “Fuck, I’m so relieved I have the Ellie stamp-of-approval. God, what would I have done without it?”

“Oh, shut up," Ellie laughed and rolled her hazel-green eyes at you, lips parting to reveal a crooked smile. Just a playful nudge at your arm with her freckled nose all wrinkled, and a flame ripped across your chest and crept toward your neck. "I was just being nice."

You broke the ice – the way you wanted it to be broken. Lighthearted, good-natured, casual. Maybe there was a twinge of something else – and of course there was, there’d always been something else  –  something sweet and tender and so poorly developed and fragile that maybe it was best that it never touched the surface. Although, maybe now, buzzed and lacking inhibition, it didn’t seem so bad to let it breathe.

“Okay, and? So was I.” You nudged her back, the nostalgia feeling bittersweet and overdue. “I can still kick your ass, y’know.”

“You wanna bet?” Ellie’s eyebrows perked up at you as she jokingly raised her fists, cartoonishly winding up a punch. Frequently, you used to find yourself at the receiving end of Ellie’s goofy shadowboxing. Few others have had the privilege of being her victim. “Put ‘em up.”

“Careful, nerd. Might hurt yourself,” you replied, feigning a lack of amusement. 

You slapped her lazy fist downward and something reeled inside Ellie’s gut. A knot formed in her stomach, being reminded of how long it’s been since you’ve touched her hands. But the inner corners of her mouth creased into a bashful smile anyway. She had finally let you catch her eyes. And for a moment, you forgot the circumstances. It seemed as though Ellie did, too.

“Do you ever miss this?”

Ellie’s gaze lingered. Maybe just a bit too long. Heat tore across your ears, and you tried your best to ignore the burn.

  “Miss what? Being challenged to kick your ass?” you defused. This was supposed to be lighthearted, casual… harmless. It was harmless. 

“Ha-haaa. Very funny.” You caught an eye-roll from the Savage Starlight card collector. “Y’know what I meant.”

“Being friends?”

“I mean, yeah, sure. Something like that,” Ellie uttered, unsure but settling for what left her lips. She shrugged, shy eyes downcast toward her fingers.

“I do miss it, yeah,” you admitted. Ellie struggled to contain her buzz at your confession. You returned a shrug, swallowing the urge to place blame. It had never been anyone’s fault. You had simply grown apart – friends do that sometimes, don’t they? 

“Don’t know why it’s been so long. Just… busy I guess,” Ellie muttered, almost embarrassedly. She was the one who stopped calling, she’s sure. Patrols were just…coincidentally reassigned, too. To make things less awkward between you both, obviously.

And busy had a name. You didn’t feel like your Busy was worth mentioning. But for Ellie, it was always Dina. 

Her name hung in your mouth and Ellie's eyes softened, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you.

“So…” you sighed, debating on continuing. “How are things with Dina?”

“It’s been… really great. She’s great.” Ellie compulsively finished the rest of her drink to avoid elaborating further. It had been proving difficult trying to remind herself that when it’s good, it’s great with Dina – and that it was something worth waiting it out for. And mind often wandered so far as to ask whether it had to be this way at all.

Relationships don’t always need sex for it to survive, right? What are the odds of sex life flatlining shortly after making it official? Was it just her libido? Perhaps lesbian bed-death, or something. People grow out of it, the freezing-out thaws, and all that, she guessed. But the guilt in Ellie’s chest burned up the words that never left her mouth. She hoped that with each breath thereafter, smoke wouldn’t curl out from between her lips.

“But… she doesn’t find your corny puns funny either?”

“Well, I know it breaks your heart, but she does, in fact, find my puns funny,” Ellie lectured in between laughter, with arms crossed and her warm buzz to blame for the half-lidded gaze.

“She’s still in the honeymoon phase, huh?” The sarcasm threaded your motion, slowly nodding at Ellie, hoping to win another laugh from her.

“I dunno. It’s just not the same y’know?” 

You tensed. You brought your hands down to your lap when you began biting the inside of your cheek. Of course you knew.

“It’s not the same as what?” 

You attempted to jump ship anyway. Lest you reveal something you didn’t want Ellie to know.

“Like how we used to be.”

“As friends?” 

Or something like that, right?

“I mean, friends don’t really kiss friends.”

Right.

The urge to bristle at the comment was hard to fight. You weren’t the one to have kissed her first; she started it back then. But the guilt slithered into your gut and gnawed at you, knowing that you always wished you had kissed her first, anyway.

“Sometimes they do. And maybe it’s that simple,” you said a little too defensively, knowing how Dina and Ellie got together. You didn’t mean for it to come out so brash, but you blamed it on the alcohol crippling your self-awareness and its accompanying filter.

“I mean – c’mon – don’t you wanna talk about it?” Ellie quibbled. “Or would you rather keep pretending that nothing ever happened?”

“Nothing did happen, Ellie.”

You prayed that the next words out of Ellie’s mouth wouldn’t be “Friends don’t fuck friends, either.” Because if they had been, you’d have to spend the next few minutes waiting for the hungry ache between your legs to subside; you know that your nameless Busy could never fuck you the way Ellie did.

“We both know that’s not true,” Ellie teased and leaned in toward you, holding back a scoff. You would’ve called it a laugh if you had been sober.

“Hooking up never meant anything, El. We were just friends, and you’re with Dina now. Don’t fuck this up for yourself,” you chided.

There was still time to leave. To walk away from whatever hot, tempting mess was awaiting you on Ellie’s couch. It was an old dance, a familiar one, whose steps had been memorized by your soles. 

It started with something harmless. Innocent touches. Friendly ones. Then, a peck. Something like kisses littered along a collarbone. Until, eventually, legs were hoisted over shoulders, faces buried in between thighs and hands with a mean grip on hair. 

It was inconsequential fun back then. It was forbidden now. And for some reason, the thought of getting fucked into a bed by Ellie, who didn’t belong to you, made your cunt slick.

“Did you know why I kissed you back then?” Ellie’s voice was soft, quiet. But there was a challenge there. Her words dripped with a dare.

“Cause you had a big, fat crush?” You leaned in the way she did, taunting her with a drunken smirk. Your faces were only inches from each other’s now, the vodka on her breath strong and the mutual desperation stronger.

“What if I said that I still do?” 

Ellie’s eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes, clearly distracted by a twinge between her thighs. When was the last time your mouths have been so close? She swore that her fingertips could recall the hills and valleys of your figure. Maybe she could try tracing them along your skin again, just to test herself. Just to say she could. C’mon. Maybe.

“I would say that you’re drunk. And fucking insane,” you quipped, unable to help the laugh that escaped your lips – low and breathless. 

“Nothing else?” 

Every time she spoke, all the clear, hard lines that kept you two apart suddenly looked softer, blurrier – like someone had been rubbing out the edges. They looked wobbly, jagged, faded, as if someone drew them with a hand that couldn’t quite steady itself. Everything felt a little more fluid, a little more bendable, a little less… consequential.

God, the stakes were high and the rewards even better. One wrong breath and you could win her or lose her. You were always good at bluffing but had a bad habit of throwing out your cards. What then? What’s next? Fold, right? It’s always been a fold, baby. You never wanted the pot that bad anyway, did you?

“And that you’re a nerd.” “Oucchhhh.” 

Ellie feigned anguish with a cocky smile, whilst pretending to drive a dagger through her heart. 

Your conscience held itself in silence as soon as you watched her eyebrows pinch at the center. It’s almost exactly the way you remembered. When she’d look down at you, face between her legs. When you used to glide your tongue through her folds, making slow, soft circles around her clit.

There had suddenly been just too much fucking saliva in your mouth while looking at her like that. You began to believe that the spit in your mouth could be used for far more useful things than moistening your mouth. Both of you exchanged a fleeting look. A knowing one. A thirsty one.

You slowly leaned in to kiss her gently, pulling away to scan her face for any sign of regret, resentment – or satisfaction.

She didn’t wear surprise on her features. Her eyes had darkened, something hypnotic and fucking carnal behind pupils blown. The small victory set your body alight. And a discreet, sin-free, mouth-watering desire had been fulfilled. It was a peck. Just to test the waters. An innocent thing. 

The tug just below Ellie’s happy-trail disagreed. 

You both moved to brazenly close the distance, rushing to get up and get your hands on each other – to clumsily and carelessly make your way toward the bed that you missed so much. Your hands held the side of her face as her lips continued to crash into yours. She brought a hand to the side of your neck, a thumb grazing your cheek, the exact way she used to make you melt. It was sweet, it was missed, it was never supposed to be innocent. It was born of desperation. 

And it was fucking sloppy.

Miraculously, you two had found the bed – which, to be honest, is no miracle since this felt like ritual – and she pinned you down onto it. You slid up further into the sheets, your body buzzing at the way Ellie groped you. You clawed at her shirt, pathetically pulling her closer. A soft whine crept from your throat when her lips left yours, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths. Gravity broke the string; the warm spit dribbled down your chin.

You laid there, looking up at Ellie, whose hands have already undone a bra, while she feasted her eyes upon your neck like it was her next meal. Ellie had always been one to admire you, but there simply was no time to fuckin’ waste. 

Her right hand found your neck, nimble fingers closing around your throat and squeezing a breathy yelp from you. Her left hand found a handful of your soft tits, her palm skimming over your hard nipples and fighting the urge to grab any harder than she was. But before she could decide to rough you up any further, her lips and tongue met the skin on your neck, leaving a trail of painful and wet kisses.

It was so quick, born of something so pent-up, secret, uncontrollable. You loved that she didn’t give you a moment to think. The moans that involuntarily escaped your lips were half-formed, broken, breathy. Your thoughts weren’t that much different.

“Shit,” you managed to croak out, realizing that she had been leaving love bites. “C’mon, El. I don’t… don’t have a way to fuckin’ cover them.”

“Good,” Ellie huffed between half-kisses, before decisively bringing her teeth down hard on your neck, purposely ignorant to your wishes. A sharp inhale through your teeth settled into a helpless moan in your mouth. “Means I get to keep you. Right, baby?”

Baby. She called you baby. Something in your chest tightened, like heartstrings suddenly tangled. You’d question whether she meant that if you were sober. But the buzzing in your body from the gin denied the need for proof. Your proof was right there. Ellie’s tongue on your neck softened anxiety’s edges for you and your nerves remained partially blunted to the panic of being called her baby. 

“Mhm,” you sighed, nodding a bit sporadically, clearly melting. You searched for her hands with yours and dragged them down toward that deliciously painful ache in your pussy. “Fuck, please touch me, El, please.”

Ellie’s fingers dug into the hems of your shirt and her hands scrambled to pull it up and over your head. She brought her soft, pink lips to your chest, leaving kisses, sneaking bites and trailing her tongue down to your hard nipples. Ellie drew a plea from your lips, and she was about to do it again. All while her hands had worked themselves to the button and zipper of your jeans. And once she got those down – her own.

Your eyes lavished the sight of Ellie’s pretty thighs. Pretty, soft, flecked with freckles. The perfect place to put your head between. Goosebumps had strewn themselves across your skin. And your pretty friend’s warm hand over your cunt didn’t help.

“So you must’ve really missed me, huh,” she teased, running a finger over an obnoxiously wet spot of your underwear. You flushed at the soft brush of her finger, your blood red-hot underneath your skin. Afraid that she’d draw away her hand to tease you further, you gripped her forearm and pressed it against the heat between your legs. Your eyes locked.

“Gotta check to make sure, right?” You tilted your hips toward her, your words edging on a dare. And you had always known Ellie to be far too stubborn to turn one down. 

In silent agreement, her left hand peels your panties toward the side, her right middle and ring finger slipping easily into your dripping cunt and thumb gently landing on your throbbing clit. 

“Sh-Shit,” you moaned, licking your lips shortly after. With eyelids low, you reached for your tits, as if something feral stirred in your gut at the feeling of being filled by Ellie’s fingers. You fervently imagined what her tongue would feel like filling up your pussy; it had been too long ago to recall.

Your eyes followed her movement in hungry anticipation. She lowered her face to your middle, fingers sliding out to spread the lips of your cunt. What a fuckin’ tease.

She ran her tongue through your folds, eager to earn another pretty sound from you. And she did. Bottom to top, the tip of her tongue caught and spread the slick over your clit, and you couldn’t help but groan in greed. More. You wanted more. 

Ellie delivered — with a warm, wet tongue that slid into your pussy. 

“Goddd, fuck, El. Feels so, f-fuckin’ — good,” you whimpered pathetically. “S-so fuckin’ deep in my cunt.”  Like second nature, your fingers clawed for a grip on Ellie’s rusty brown hair.

“So — fuckin’… pretty, baby,” she moaned into you, between tongue-deep licks of your pussy. The sound of Ellie’s tongue messily lapping against and into your gushing cunt made a slippery mess out of her own underwear. But she didn’t need to tell you that for you to know.

Her fingers found themselves in your messy pussy again, her tongue at your clit, making steady swirls, occasionally closing her lips around your bud to gently suck. Like clockwork, a familiar hunger gently tore at you from your core.

“Shit, yessss, baby. Mhm, like that. Like thatttt. Gimme, El, p-please. I’m —” 

Just like that, Ellie had to do the opposite of what you so desperately begged for. Her tongue abandoned your clit, and her fingers left your pussy, sticky, beaded strings of slick adorning the space between them. An exasperated whimper left with an exhale. Ellie sat back onto her heels, self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“Sorry — were you not done?”

“Fuckin’ Christ, El. You’re so annoying.”

She watched you compose yourself from the brink of the delicious chase of your orgasm, pulling something out from inside a bin from underneath the bed. Something she hadn’t used since she had seen you last. 

She calmly wrestled it on, made sure it was secure. And you ignored the blatant watering of your mouth.

“Aww, c’mon.” She screwed up her chin into a sarcastic pout. Her features sat gentle on her face, but her movements were a bit rough. Her hands pulled your legs to the right, leaving you on your side. Without giving you time to react, she rolled you onto your front, and pulled your ass up by your hips. You comfortably laid there, on your knees. “You love it.”

Her hazel eyes drank you up, admired your ass, and locked on the pretty, glistening wet lips between your legs.

“What are yo—”, you started, unable to finish. Ellie’s fingers spread your pussy lips, the tip of the strap gliding just-barely in. “H-holy shhhit.” 

The sultry whine slipped from your mouth. And, poor you. You couldn’t help but arch your back. Stars swam in your eyes as her slips slowly rocked into you, the length of her strap filling your wet cunt. 

“Slipped in sooo easy, baby,” Ellie hummed, hypnotized by the view, the way your ass moved with every stroke. Her palms spread on your ass, fingers digging in, likely to leave light fingertip bruises afterward. Her strokes got quicker and harder, her strap running over that delicious sweet spot in your pussy.

“Ellie! Fuck! Goddd, fuck me plea— right there, rightthere, baby,” you groaned, barely coherent, face-deep into her pillow, hands clawing at the sheets that smelled so much like her.

A series of whimpers had been leaving Ellie’s lips as she fucked you, the base of the strap rubbing comfortably — conveniently — against her clit. Something feral crawled up into Ellie’s abdomen with each stroke.

Unsatisfied with her grip on you, she reached over, laid a hand across your throat, forcing you to look up and stifling your moaning. 

“You make such — pretty fuckin’… noises for me — fuck,” Ellie said. Maybe sighed. Although, to you it felt like a pant.

You turned your head just a bit to catch a blurry sideways glimpse of Ellie. There was a cool glow that illuminated the side of her face, freckles clear and bright, eyes closed and chasing that familiar tug in your core as she fucked into you. It was probably the moonlight trickling in from behind Ellie’s closed curtains. 

And it was safe to say you fucking hated those curtains as they were.

Writhing under the pressure and friction of Ellie’s body behind yours, you secretly wished those curtains were never closed to prying eyes. You desperately wanted someone to look in. Someone to watch Ellie fuck you silly while you were wide-eyed, hypnotized, and hungry. The way she used to. Face down, ass up and fucked into a pillow. The way it was supposed to be.

And you’ve never looked more fucking gorgeous to her. 

“God fuck, so clo—”  Ellie’s breathy groans grew more intense, her sounds became all whiny, fussy, insatiable. You had her wrapped around your finger — and you’d be insane to make it all so easy for her. Her breathing quickened, catching itself on that warm knot in her stomach nearly unraveling. 

You pulled forward and away from Ellie. The strap slid out of your pussy, to both your dismay and delight. A smirk snuck its way onto your lips as you turned around, rolling onto your back — missionary.

Her freckled chest was heaving a hard, unsteady breath. A bewildered expression on her features bordered on defeat.

“The fuck was that?” She asked, chest and cheeks alight, flush and rosy. You daydreamed about leaving purplish love bites around her neck, like a collar. You had always been holding the leash, haven't you? 

This was your proof.

“I think that makes us even,” you answered, brandishing your self-satisfaction.

“Asshole,” Ellie exhaled with half a laugh, still catching her breath. Her hand tapped your thigh in a light smack — Ellie’s version of playful chastisement.

“Yeah?” you challenged, eyes flicking between the harness and the endearing lines forming at the corner of Ellie’s smirk.

You sat up, hands at the harness which sat around her hips and ass, managing to wrangle it off. Your eyes struggled to leave the pretty, sloppy mess she made underneath it.

Often you wondered if there was some secret language that only you two speak telepathically. Because she grabbed your legs, forcing you on your back again, and hoisting your right leg over her right shoulder — doing exactly as you desired. 

Ellie positioned herself so that her middle met your own, and when it did, the feeling of her warm, sticky cunt made the ache of your clit border on painful. The slightest movement made the most delicious and obnoxious sound of your desperately wet pussies up against each other. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me, baby,” Ellie huffed, watching the way your hands grasp at your own chest in lust. “Is that all for me, pretty girl?”

Strings of drool stretched between your cunts every time she pulled away and returned back to you, hips rocking like something carnally possessed. Your clits passed over each other, throbbing hard and sensitive from the pressure and slippery, effortless lack of friction between your gushing pussies.

“Mhm, yes, fuck… yes—,” your pathetic, lovedrunk mouth ran. “All fuckin’ yours.”

You admired the tiny beads of sweat on her,  like a mist that fell over Ellie’s neck and chest. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of glistening slick adorning both of your thighs. The air was a mess of both your whimpers, whines, nearly animalistic breathing.

“Uh-huh, just like that — All mine, baby,” Ellie groaned, leaning just a bit forward to grab one of your tits with her free hand. 

All hers. Sure, you were both drunk. But Ellie did nothing but confirm all of which you held to be true in secret. You’ve always belonged to each other – whether the world knew it or not.

“Keep going, please— yes… shitttt. El, plea— please fuck me,” you pleaded, eyeing Ellie’s tits bounce as she rubbed herself against you.

You clawed at each other; fingernails dug into Ellie’s forearm, and Ellie returned the favor with fingertips pressed hard into her grip on your thigh. The incessant and pathetic desire to get closer than you were plagued you both, as if you hadn’t been close enough. You could've shared skin – and surely even that wouldn't be enough. 

A mouthwatering daydream of watching Ellie’s eyebrows draw together exactly the way they did earlier, became reality. Lust burned circles around your clit and the deep tug behind your belly button served as a warning.

You could gather the same from Ellie, her eyes pinched closed, movements a bit more erratic, a bit more involuntary.

“Gonna make me cum with you, baby? Make me fucking cu—,” Ellie said, words sloppy and frantic, breathing ragged. “Shitshitshit, holy fuck, fuck!”

As warmth crept from Ellie’s cunt overs – you writhed underneath it. The thought of Ellie’s squirt drenching your pussy did nothing put you over the frenzied edge.

“Mhm, please, so fuckin’ close, El. Please, so close, I can’t fucki— shit! I’mcumming I’mcumming, fuckin’ god—” A tide rolled itself in your gut – you held your breath, just to feel it a bit longer, the euphoric tension and release. Heat ripped from your cunt to your chest, pussy clenching, clit throbbing, Ellie unrelenting. The relief in your clit grew sharp, a bit painful, overwhelming. Your hand rose to her abdomen, preventing her from rocking against you further. “Jesus christ.”

Ellie’s half-lidded gaze favored the way you squirmed under her; you were just so effortlessly beautiful, at the brink of cumming, at the sleepy aftermath – even with sweat beaded upon your brow from the desperate chase.

She adjusted her legs, fixed in order to collapse next you, although close enough to nearly be on top of you. You tangled legs with hers, finding soft, cool spots on her skin to rest on. Ellie lays half-way on her side, one arm folder and underneath a pillow and the other tracing the outline of your jaw. You both take a moment to catch your breaths.

“But friends don’t fuck friends right?” Ellie quipped sarcastically, waiting for a laugh from you.

“Oh, shut up, El,” you replied, a bit of a spirited defeat in your voice. Fighting the sleepiness, the exhaustion, the self-satisfaction –  you relented, wanting to enjoy the moment as it was. For now, she was yours and you were hers. You shared a bed. The sheets smelled of you. She called you her baby. 

“Let’s just…worry about that shit tomorrow.”

[elliewill]

꩜.𖥔 ˖ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ (ɢɪᴠɪɴ' ᴜᴘ). [ᴇ.ᴡ. & ᴀ.ᴀ.]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ.

A ROUTINE patrol goes wrong for our friendly neighborhood spider-woman! who can she rely on in this time of need? our favorite human-host and alien-symbiote duo, of course!

pairing: modern!venom!abby anderson x modern!spider-woman!ellie williams tags: frenemies (?) to lovers, comedy, ellie williams is a bad spiderman, abby anderson is a worse venom, physical hurt/comfort, symbiote healing, blood, slight gore. mdni. a/n: um. is this too niche? i used to write for spider-verse... and i am just a girl i fear. I'll probably post this on ao3 as well. have fun! ⸺ℰ word count: 1.4k

Ellie’s desperate, she knows that. 

Really, she does.

She's not entirely sure what comes over her. Not sure what possesses her to swing her way to Abby Anderson’s apartment in goddamn Hell’s Kitchen, not sure what has her colliding with the wall unceremoniously because of course she stumbles. Maybe it’s the piece of scrap metal stuck in her side. Honestly, she's not even sure if Abby is home.

So, she knocks. 

This really isn’t her best idea. She has a lot of those, but this is definitely one of the worst ones. She thinks she knows what she wants – she wants Abby to force her to go to the hospital and see a doctor. 

But she knows what she really wants is for Abby to fix her up herself. She wants Abby to joke around with her, try to make her laugh to distract her from the blood she's losing. That’s all a maybe, though– it’s if she lets herself really yearn. 

She stands there in her shredded suit and a stretched-out t-shirt she snatched from a street vendor, waiting for Abby to answer the door. She thinks she looks weird. She knows she looks insane.

She doesn’t have to wait too long– never really does if Abby can help it– but she's not expecting what greets her. She thought Abby would answer the door with that usual Abby Anderson charm – or lack thereof – that lazy smirk on her face because she’s so smug and thinks she’s right all the time. The stormy blue eyes and a sarcastic greeting on her tongue that Ellie wants to kiss her for. She thought she’d be – content, to say the least.

Instead, Abby is standing unnervingly still. Her eyes are dark and her eyebrows are furrowed, her lips are turned down in a frown, and Ellie realizes she has a peep-hole way too late. She's still relieved to see her, just a little bit, anyway. Her lips just barely turn up. “Abby,” she breathes, “I didn’t– Know where to go–”

She's lying. She knew where to go. But she also knew she wouldn’t be able to go out again if Maria and Tommy ever found out that she got beat this bad. Maria would make her life infinitely more difficult than it already is and Tommy would make sure she could never wear the suit again, and she would die, probably, if she spent that much time away from it all.

And fuck, actually, if she wasn’t a little afraid that she could be dying – Abby isn’t a surgeon, can’t possibly take this thing out of her side, but she doesn’t want to go to a hospital, can’t possibly go home on her own. She can’t do anything but feel all this pain, but Abby’s hands are soft where they hold her arms. Abby’s hands are soft and clean and have no blood on them – not yet, anyway, not until Ellie walks into her home. Then the whole place is coated in the stuff – drippy and dark and disgusting– and Ellie just keeps painting the walls with it. 

She blinks as she's guided to Abby’s dining table– God, if I don’t die, I gotta remember to hit up IKEA– 

“Ellie, what the fuck?” She hears Abby’s frantic voice, low and not at all happy– it makes Ellie nauseous, or maybe it's the blood loss, she's not entirely sure, but blood dribbles out of her mouth anyway.

She groans, letting out half-sobs as Abby gently lays her down. Tears well in her eyes– not because of the pain, no– the care. Abby handles her like she's made of glass, and she's not so sure that she isn’t. She honestly doesn’t know what she's made out of– maybe bits and pieces of everyone she's ever known– maybe nothing in particular.

“What the hell happened?” She's asking, and God, Ellie doesn’t fuckin’ know. Doesn’t know a damn thing except that she webbed up that asshole mugger to the side of the closest NYPD precinct, that the scrap metal in her side knocked the wind out of her, that she had to fumble with her webs and blink the spots out of her eyes to make sure she was swinging in the right direction. She barely thought of where to go, just knew that her dear frenemy Abigail Anderson lived on the corner of 10th Ave and W 49th.

The spots are back, her breath is getting shallow, and she’s a little scared. Her hands clench Abby’s wrists.

“Abs–” 

“I’m here,” Abby says, soft and sure above her. Ellie watches her, but Abby’s focused on the wound in her side, on the way the skin keeps trying to heal but then it's ripped open again, a never ending loop of heal, break, heal, break.

“V, help her.” 

Help her, not help me, because she doesn’t need it. Abby’s Symbiote to the rescue, and Ellie’s shivering as he coats her skin. Abby’s there, too, underneath it all – embedded into Venom the way he’s embedded into her. They can’t be apart, and the thought of Abby sticking to her skin makes her warm. She shudders.

“Didn’t puncture anything major,” Abby says, and her eyes glaze over white. Venom blinks down at her once, then again, before Abby’s blue-grey eyes come back to comfort her.

Venom doesn’t say much, makes no sound except for the occasional hum. The goo is sticky, cold and then warm, and she feels their heartbeat against her sternum. It’s soothing, but the pain is getting to her. She can feel Venom seep under her skin, can feel him-her-them rummaging and moving around her organs to isolate the area. The worst part is when Abby pulls the fucking metal out of her side. She cries out, breath wobbly from the blinding pain that tears through skin and muscle. Might as well go straight to the bone, too.

She can barely breathe, can’t really think, but Abby looks like she's crying. Ellie just can’t have that.

“Knew you never– fuck–” She coughs, spits blood right into her own shoulder, doesn't want to stain anything else red, “–never liked me.” 

It makes Abby laugh, just barely, but it sounds more like she's trying not to choke on her breaths. Her hand rests on Ellie’s chest, where her heart beats, a little too quickly, but it’s fine. At least it’s beating. They sit and breathe and cry— Abby’s hands are still soft on her chest, Ellie’s head is still pounding. When she looks down, both of their hands are covered in blood. It makes her warm for some reason. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Abby asks after a few minutes, maybe an hour, maybe more. Ellie sighs, coughs again. The wound is tender, but there's no blood in her mouth. It’s the little things.

“Just wanted to finish,” she mutters, squeezing her eyes shut, “Didn't think about getting hurt.” 

“Stupid of you,” Abby says quietly, “Almost Venom-stupid.”

“Almost,” she agrees, grins despite herself, would laugh if she could. It hurts too much, though, just like Abby’s eyes on her right now. 

“HEY!” Venom barks, tendrils building until his head forms right by Abby’s right arm. He interrupts the moment, and for some reason, she’s a little thankful for it. “I SAVED YOUR LIFE. DID NOT EAT YOU. I COULD. I SHOULD. WE WANT TO.”

Abby shushes him, shoving at his head half-heartedly. Venom responds by digging his teeth into her arm, which does nothing. He chews angrily.

“You’re not eating her. You just had chocolate.”

“CHOCOLATE IS GOOD. I WANT MORE! HER SPLEEN IS RIGHT THERE, I COULD–”

Abby shoves him again as Ellie watches on. Nothing more to do now that she’s healed up, but the wound in her side is held together by her own skin and pieces of Venom. Pieces of Abby and Venom, because it's always two, and never just the one. Not anymore.

Ellie doesn’t say much when Abby preps the pull-out couch, but she does thank Venom when he slithers up out of nowhere to give her a pillow. It’s the softest thing she’s ever held (probably) and she takes note of the way Abby hides a blush that reaches the tips of her ears.

She doesn’t comment, and instead says goodnight when Abby turns the light off in the living room.

[elliewill]

carry me out.

summary: a drabble. ellie’s grief, guilt, and denial. maybe it was all worth it, maybe it wasn’t. just don’t ask her — she won’t be able to answer.

tw: mentions of blood, a knife, a wound, joel. just the slightest hint of gore. hurt/barely-there comfort.

THE BLOOD, both fresh and dried, caked under ellie’s fingernails. and for a long time, she’s had to pretend that her mouth doesn’t water at the sight.

because she’s done something. whether it moved her forward or backward — she can say she moved. idle hands are the devil’s workshop, and maybe if ellie moves enough, he’ll never be able to catch her. it’s too early to stop now. she’s far from finished.

her purpose has yet to be fulfilled. there is no judgment day — not yet. never for her. and she’ll twist the knife in her side as savage and violent as she wants. if she stops, she has to look. please don’t make me look. not yet.

the serpent had already shed its skin in ellie’s hand when she wedged the dagger in her side. between her last two ribs. one for adam, one for eve. the wound will be hard to heal and immortal proof. reach into it like thomas, pull her entrails out like a scar.

she makes a fist, she lets it go, she watches it slither into its home around her knuckles. it hisses. she feigns ignorance.

ellie’s been chewing salt to heal the sores in her mouth. the stinging brings a certain comfort. and yet the saltwater does little to clean her hands. she likes it this way.

they had a purpose once, she thinks. her hands. look at all they’ve done! there’s hope for more doing, still. for what is justice without blood?

justice is only blind to shield her from bearing witness to the force by which she wields the sword. so that she may be ignorant to her left hand favoring the right. that perhaps the sword is just far too heavy, is swung with just too much momentum, for the scales to remain untipped, still, quiet. and that’s okay. the scales will clash. the sword is always heavy, and she is always fair.

ellie falls on her sword in justice’s name. the work of her hands has worn her. but there is more doing for them. she swears. she promises. tell her that hot crimson continues to adorn them. how else can she atone? don’t tell me how much of it there is. just look for me, please. please don’t make me look.

all this blood, and the last thing to sever is a branch. she might look then.

her mouth will dry up. the olives will do little to calm her hands.

but joel looks with her. she’ll reach for his hand across the styx as soon as she sees her reflection in the tar. please, look with me. i can’t look without you.

[elliewill]

crybaby ft. ellie williams/reader

tags: character study, lots of feelings, ellie loves hard and weird and impatiently. mentions of nsfw? its barely there.

a/n: so ever since i got into tlou, i've always paired ellie with this song. so here's a little drabble just cause.

ellie knows that when you know, you just know. it is what it is, such is life— its how the cookie crumbles, its in the cards. ellie collects those; maybe not playing cards, but she's a total loser so yeah, she tried to learn card tricks. no, she's not very good at it. but she knows— its always in the deck, its in the cards. love, apparently, is in her cards. love shouldn't have gotten so close to her, but it did. now she has to relax the sneer on her face, dig her heels in the ground and try not to flinch when it touches her. 'cause she deserves it. or so it has been explained to her. because apparently, everyone gets what they deserve. thats a neat trick. she wishes it were true, sometimes, and other times, not. if it were true, dina wouldn't have had to deal with her for as long as she did. riley wouldn't have died. you wouldn't be around. she's not all the worthy, really, and you could do better. she thinks, at least.

thats her thing, of course — thinking too much, saying too little. only sometimes, though, because other times, everything she hoards in her mouth just spews out. nothing to stop it — well, you're a burden now, aren't you? — and its a fatal flaw. she says what she means, and she meant that.

but she also means this: love me. love me but don't look at me too hard lest you catch sight of the beast beneath the floorboards. love me but don't move too quickly, keep every part of yourself in my line of sight. hands raised, fingers spread, your heart in her teeth. her heart on her sleeve, ready for the taking.

and ellie tries really hard — for everything she does, she tries hard. whether or not she tries to do it correctly is another thing entirely, she thinks she does it just to satisfy what she thinks is right. but you know when you know, and she knows when she's right. she can taste it in her molars, but god forbid you say it, so please don't. because if she's right about this, about one thing, she's right about everything else. she's right about joel, right about her fears, right about how she feels when you look at her and tilt your head like you just love her. knife to her chest cavity, bones blown open and cordyceps seeping out.

because whats she to say when you ask how she felt when you first met? that she looked at you and knew she'd fall in love with you but its not what she wanted? that she could taste it on her tongue like she tastes you — sticky, thick, addictive.

[elliewill]

The Forest

[elliewill]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: ellie wants to eat you whole. you let her! and maybe return the favor.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: ellie williams x fem!reader

𝙘𝙬: smut — fingering, pussy eating, face riding, "sloppy" descriptions, dirty talk. mention of blood. vague plot.

✧˖*°࿐

Having sex with Ellie isn’t bad at all. You learn a lot about her.

She has sensitive ears (you knew that) and a sensitive neck (you didn’t know that). Her sides were ticklish, but when you run your hands down to her waist, she responds beautifully. A symphony of breathy moans and pretty whispers. Her hair is a light halo over her head and she looks too comfortable being sprawled out on your bed. She doesn’t stay there for long, of course. She’s too eager to do that.

Her kisses trail down the crook of your neck, onto your shoulder, down your chest. She knows you like kisses on your stomach, on your hips, on your pussy. It makes her dizzy, how much you want and how much she’s willing to give.

It suddenly feels like too much and not enough. 

“Ellie,” you whine breathily, but only when Ellie’s tongue trails down your stomach, “Ellie– Ellie.”

She’d never focused on the way you said her name before. Now that she is, it was the only way she wanted her name to be said. 

“Yeah?” She breathes, lifting her head from your torso. You stare down at her, your chest heaving, her eyes half-lidded. You can’t really form any words, so Ellie nips at your hip bone. Your hips twitch up towards her face. You blush a pretty pink, and Ellie decides then and there that she is going to eat you whole.

“C’mere,” you say, sweet enough that Ellie does. If you told her to commit mass murder with that voice, she would. 

You pull her down for a kiss that had your teeth knocking into each other. You could swear your lip was bleeding, but then Ellie’s tongue is lapping up any blood that would be there, and you can’t help but groan. Ellie sucks on your bottom lip, making it swell and bruise. She pulls away, only to push you down.

“Didn’t realize you’d be this rough,” you laugh, winded and a little crazed. 

“Making up for lost time,” she grins back, leaning down to place more kisses on your chest. It works well to shut you up. 

“Oh, yeah?” You suck in a breath, only half-trying to get away from Ellie’s lips.

A teasing bite to your hip makes you grunt, and your hips jerk. 

Ellie could probably spend the rest of her life figuring out what makes you sound so pretty. She’d never thought that hard about what you would be like in bed– thinking about you as hers was enough, at least it used to be. Now, though, with you pliant and at her mercy, her mind is racing. 

She can’t help the deranged grin on her face, can’t help smothering her face into your side. She hums when it makes you gasp.

“Ellie,” you whine again, your fingers tugging and pulling at strands of her hair. “C’mon.” 

Ellie seriously does not need to be told twice. 

She has half the mind to push her luck, though– see if she could make you beg, but saves it for another day. 

She tugs at your sweats impatiently, doesn’t wait for you to kick them off your legs before she tugs down your underwear and lets her fingers graze over your wet pussy. She said she was making up for lost time. She meant it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, your eyes glaze over, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” Ellie snarks quietly, ignoring the harsh tug from your fingers. She sighs, pressing kisses to your pussy, licking just to see what you would do. 

You don’t disappoint. You immediately look down, your lips parted over a gasp, your eyebrows pinched. Your pussy is absolutely drooling, but Ellie very happily licks it up. 

“God–” 

As Ellie slowly eases in two fingers, she hums softly at the sound of your greedy cunt swallowing her fingers up. She pumps her fingers in and out of your pussy, slow and gentle. She rests her head on your thigh for a moment.

“You’ve gotten head before, no?” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. You nod, your whole body twitching with every kiss she placed there. She smiled.

“You always respond like this?” 

“No,” you breathe, combing your shaky fingers through her hair, “Just you. Dunno why.”

“Just me,” Ellie repeats in a whisper, fascinated. 

She doesn’t give much of a warning for when her tongue would lick up your pussy, but it seems as though she enjoyed it better that way. Ellie watches to see what you like and don't like, and it makes you dizzy how quickly she learns how to make you shudder. 

But Ellie can’t help herself in some way— she loves to shove her tongue into your cunt and lap up your drool. She loves holding your hips down, loves when you look down at her and moan in approval.

“Fuck,” you whimper quietly, trying not to jerk your hips too hard. You shook your head quickly, embarrassed, and Ellie watched with half-lidded eyes. 

“M’close–” You gasp, “No– fuck–”

You whine pathetically when Ellie pulls away, caressing your hip bones. She’s too pretty, Ellie thinks distantly. 

“Why no?” She murmurs, her voice hoarse, and she revels in the way you shuddered.

“Just– so fast,” you mutter back.

“Bad?” 

“Not bad,” you wheeze, half-heartedly tugging Ellie’s face closer to your pussy, “Very good.” 

Ellie continues, keeps going until you cum all over her mouth and chin, until your body seizes up and your thighs lock around her head. She lets you ride out your orgasm, and sits patiently with her tongue out and fingers in your cunt. Once you slump against the mattress, she pulls away, her fingers slipping out as gently as she can muster. She ignores the wetness between her own thighs, instead opting to crawl up on the bed, placing an arm around your waist. 

You look at her like she grew a second head.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Ellie frowns. 

“Ride my face,” you breathe, cheeks rosy, “I’ll make it feel good–”

You don’t have to talk her into it– not at all. She seems positive that she’s going to cum no matter what you do. 

Ellie wastes no time to lay you back down, her touch soft but she’s forceful with it. She pushes your hair out of your face, then carefully straddles your head, keeping her hips up so she can still meet your eyes. It’s a silent question, but you just nod. 

With that, she sinks down, you meeting her pussy with an eager mouth. You don't have a technique per se, but you make up for your lack of experience with your eagerness. You lap at her cunt like a dog, stuffing your face as close as you can, spreading your spit and Ellie’s drool all over her folds. 

“Shiiiiit,” Ellie gasps, hips rocking slow and gentle so as to not hurt you. “Like that, baby— such a good fuckin’ girl—”

You breathe harshly through your nose, not wanting to waste a second away from Ellie’s cunt, and honestly, Ellie doesn’t think she’ll last very long anyway. 

It feels too surreal– feels too much like a dream. Ellie can’t help that her hips are moving on their own, can’t help that she wants to take control.

You notice it— the stutter in her hips— and you squeeze her thighs as if to give her approval. So, she does. You moan against her pussy, your cunt dripping at all the shit Ellie says. Desperate, borderline belligerent, but it makes your clit throb. One of your hands grip her hip like you’d keep her there by force if you had to, so Ellie very safely assumes you like it.

“Mm— your tongue feels so fuckin’ good, baby— soooo deep in my cunt, fuck!”

The way your tongue slides between her folds and flicks against her clit brings Ellie closer to her orgasm with each passing moment. The idea of how much you’re willing to give her has her desperate, chasing her orgasm while she rides your face. Your other hand goes under, two of your fingers easily slipping into her cunt. That coupled with the thought of being the first girl to ever fuck your face is enough to send her over the edge, and she fucks you face ‘til it’s glazed over with spit and cum.

Her thighs shake as she sits up and quickly maneuvers herself so she can flop down next to you. You breathe deep, head swimming and cunt aching. She throws an arm over your waist, fingers caressing your hip bone. You glance over at her, lips quirked up. She’s already smiling, eyes hazy.

“Your turn?”

[elliewill]

“if somehow the lord gave me a second chance at that moment, i would do it all over again.”

[elliewill]

[elliewill]

tapping the mic against my skull

listen y'all can characterize ellie however you want. whatever works for you! whatever does it for ya! but i know the truth and the truth is... this loser is not all that.... i've seen a few posts go around and tbh i just wanna yap and give my two cents so Without Further Ado

i fear she's just a girl? she can never take herself seriously, not even her journal is safe from her own judgement and persecution. this bitch would agonize over her spotify playlist titles hoping to come off as cool and mysterious. she has aesthetic pinterest boards for everyone in her life and they're color coordinated. she echos any memorable tiktok sound and says ow! when she bumps into shit. and says sorry like the thing is Real. she wears silver jewelry and really likes wearing thumb and knuckle rings. she doesn't grow her hair out very long bc it tickles her neck and she hates it.

she says things if she means it, otherwise she won't bother. she's sarcastic and sometimes blunt, but never mean. she bites like a dog when she's hurt because she's hurt. she talks more with her eyes than with her mouth because words are hard, writing or verbal. she likes first person shooter games, but she's fine with mortal kombat. she's phenomenal at tetris. she will cheat at uno if she's losing astronomically.

she enjoys free verse and contemporary poetry but she's great at analyzing traditional poems. she reads people's body language because that says more about a person than whatever they come up with.

she's not some masc dom mf with no feelings and a mysterious aura. if she comes off that way its purely coincidental and she finds it funny. she will go to chuck e cheese and call the mascot charles. making joel laugh was and will always be her greatest goal in life. she would adopt a cat and name it something completely unconventionally like doorknob or smth idfk