modernvenuss

[modernvenuss]

being long distance with gf ! ellie

long distance ! ellie who— leading up to the days of her departure, constantly reassures you that it doesn’t matter how far you guys are, the miles won’t distant you guys.

long distance ! ellie who didn’t cry at the airport when you guys said goodbye. but as soon as the plane departed she couldn’t help but let a tear slide down her cheek. even the older lady beside her noticed and when ellie explained why, the lady offered her candy to cheer her up like a kid. that’s how ellie spent the whole flight talking about you and sharing photos of the two of you together.

long distance ! ellie immediately calls you when she lands, her face taking up the entire screen but she’s so excited she doesn’t even notice. she gives you a tour of her apartment, listening when you give her decor ideas because we all know she wouldn’t bother to decorate anything other than her room. so you send her a whole pinterest board of things you think she would like :3

long distance ! ellie who constantly updates you with all the cool places she finds in her new city. she often sends you texts like “when you visit i’m definitely bringing you here” “babe you would SO love this cafe, eating a chocolate scone in your honor” “remember that science museum i told you about? i went the other day and had a brain orgasm” (she says weird things like that all the time that you quit questioning).

long distance ! ellie loves to eat with you over the phone. she’s almost always sitting at her desk, hoodie pulled up as she shows you what’s on the menu (mac and cheese cause she’s just a girl). she listens to you talk about your day, immediately asking for the latest gossip because she’s lowkey nosey. she loves the face of concentration you have when you chew. the phone lighting up every few seconds with ‘els <3 has taken a screenshot’ in which you roll your eyes causing the screen to light up even more.

long distance ! ellie who will always be the first and last person that you speak to every day. she needs to be the first person you wake up thinking about and the last person you go to sleep thinking about.

a/n: first post!!! super nervy so it’s not that great but if you’ve read it then thank you very much :) i will definitely write more when i get the hang of this 😖

[modernvenuss]

growing up a lonely girl is so weird cause i’ll make friends, hell i’ll be invited in all these big groups to big parties and am loved by all. but no matter what i still feel lonely. like i’ll be surrounded by love and affection but i still feel like i’m unloved and lonely. no matter what there’s just a scared little girl inside me who is being constantly pushed away and is desperately trying to find a way to get people to like her. even with people who love me around me at my core i’m still just alone

[modernvenuss]

[modernvenuss]

[modernvenuss]

oh yeah people..... this is what FAME looks like...

[modernvenuss]

hiiii, thinking about ellie fucking reader like in a hurry on her place? whatever turns out better lmao

ellie fucking you in a hurry on her garage.

mdni! nsfw.

the entire morning was a constant state of denial for ellie; she didn't want to go to the dinner maria had organized to spend a little more time with her closest friends, even with joel.

there were constant complaints and mockery, soft whispers of pleading, your bare feet against the floor mat, sitting on the corner of her bed as you watched her at the workbench, a disassembled gun, oil paintings everywhere.

ellie wasn't mad, but she said she was just in the mood to be with you:

still, an hour later, she accept when your eyes turned in a certain soft and pleading way and melted away any denials. you watched her put on her casual jeans, a new blue plaid flannel shirt, and her hair in an awkward bun.

you dressed too, just as casually as other days, warm boots and tight jeans—you decided to wear your hair down for the first time in a few days. maybe that's what made ellie turn the twenty minutes before leaving her garage for maria's house into a complete odyssey.

"please—let me..." ellie whispered, her hands cupping your face. puppy eyes on yours.

"i'll do it quickly, if you let me. i won't be a crap anymore today."

she added, and seemed so sure of herself that she was already rolling up the sleeves of her flannel shirt to elbows level.

"ellie, we're gonna be late—" you whined a little, but deep down, the make-out session had made you a little dizzy. you stumbled over to the nightstand that sat next to the door and an old curtained window. right on the piece of furniture where ellie used to stick her switchblade.

but then again, ellie knew you well, that 'maybe' in your eyes and the way you closed your legs too tightly.

so she didn't hesitate, there was a white box under that same nighstand. it was her strap. with a flick of the toe of her sneaker, she pulled it out.

"just say yes, i'm at your feet." ellie said jokingly, her cheeks slightly red, she got on her knees in front of you while leaving long kisses on top of your gray shirt, on your lower abdomen. "like, literally." she murmured.

you let out a laugh, a groan at the situation, you couldn't say no to her... you were simply madly in love. so dumb.

your head nodded, your hands gripped the white furniture, and she didn't waste another minute.

ellie began unzipping your jeans, sliding the fabric down your thighs, leaving it just above your knees. it was quick, it wasn't thought out.

"how cheesy." she said with a mocking smile when she saw your panties. pink with little hearts.

"i really love them, so— screw you." you said in a fake, offended voice as you smiled down at her.

"sexy." she hissed, turned back to her matter.

ellie hooked her fingers through the elastic and pulled them down as well. her face was perplexed, as if it was the first time she'd seen you like this. she even unconsciously bit the corner of her lower lip.

"i might be the luckiest bastard in jackson." she whispered.

you didn't have time for anything. it wasn't a premeditated or gentle move. it was ellie literally going for what she wanted. and when you felt her mouth place a kiss right on top of your throbbing clit, you even had to close your legs at the sensation.

"s—shit... you're crazy." you teased her, but she took it personally, her tongue darting out of her mouth to run up and down your folds, her hands on your thighs.

from your angle, you could see ellie's eyes closed tightly, her eyebrows furrowed, and her nose bumping against your mound, her mouth buried in you.

you moaned, holding onto the furniture, another hand went to the top of her head as if you wanted to guide her. and she noticed.

her mouth separated from your pussy, a thread of saliva and wetness joined on her lips and your folds, she looked into your eyes.

"fucking use me." she whispered, it was just a second.

ellie's mouth returned and you moaned even more, your pelvis moving over her face, and when her lips swirled around your clit to suck it steadily, your hand lightly pulled ellie's hair back and forth creating a rhythm.

you couldn't hold it, your head back, sitting slightly on the furniture, almost jumping into her face and your orgasm hit you leaving you sensitive, murmuring her name in moans.

ellie stood up again, her face looked a little red, and half of it was wet, she didn't even care and her hands were insistent towards the white box.

while ellie was putting the harness on her waist, you unbuttoned your boots and pulled down your jeans and panties completely, everything ended up on the floor, it was a mess at the entrance to the garage.

"tell me if it's too much, okay?"

ellie whispered against your lips as she positioned herself between your legs, one propped on the windowsill and the other around her waist. her hand moved down to your pussy again, feeling you.

"but i see you're ready, huh?" she said in that playful, slightly silly tone, making fun of how wet you were.

your gaze became somewhat feline, your hand placed itself on her lower waist and you gave her a tiny spank on the skin, a playful threat.

ellie giggled and got the message, taking the dildo in her right hand and letting you feel it gently against your slit. she wasn't as subtle as other times; seemed needy, and the tip soon entered you.

you whimpered, holding onto the furniture once more as you looked into her eyes, trembling as you felt ellie slowly enter you.

"shit, baby. take it, just take it."

ellie blurted out, trying to hold it together. you knew her, even though her mouth wanted to spill the dirtiest things that were going through her head at that moment.

"you feel so good."

you said in a shaky gasp, your hand seeking refuge on her shoulder as ellie began to move her hips in a familiar rhythm, it was slow but deep, and explicit sounds filled the walls.

"umh, yeah. fucking my girl so good."

ellie moaned too, pressing her chest against yours, kissing the hollow of your ear as you hugged her back. both of you had a layer of sweat on your foreheads. it didn't matter.

the chosen dildo also stimulated her, each thrust towards you was a brush against her extremely needy clit, and you noticed its intensity when she leaned you back a little, raising your leg more to her waist, the rhythm being much faster.

"i— yeah. look at me when i'm pounding into you, babe." she moaned.

you didn't moan, you let out a strangled scream, holding onto the edge of the furniture as you threw your head back. you wanted to cum so fast that you were even embarrassed when you did after a few minutes of thrusting. but ellie didn't stop.

ellie followed with at least five more thrusts, and it drove you crazy the way she used you to seek her own pleasure, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a soft, high-pitched moan as she came buried inside you.

"that was... so damn awesome."

she blurted out, her hand, where the ink of her tattoo rested, went to your thigh and gave it a squeeze, both of you looking into each other's eyes.

"can we just not go— to maria's?"

ellie said again, her face extremely soft, still inside you.

"ellie... be serious right now."

you said.

but yeah, you probably didn't want to go after this either. you just needed a second quickie.

(yeaaaahhh!!! you request, i deliver. thank u very much, hope you liked it.

still, this is a little rushed i just splashed the first ideas of my brain here, sorry) 😿

divider cr; @enchanthings-a

[modernvenuss]

˗ˏˋ 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 ‎ˎˊ˗

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘐𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Good Girls Go To Heaven

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: atheist! Ellie Williams x religious! reader

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Ellie Williams is the newest student at the Saint Benedetta Carlini Academy for her senior year, where she meets you, the class president. Although you two have your differences at the beginning, you'll find that love is the strongest force that has ever existed. Will what you two have be able to survive in a hostile environment that is constantly trying to convince you that what you're doing is wrong?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Fluff, Angst, academic rivals (for a little while), mentions of religion (catholism to be exact), toxic depiction of religion, ellie has abandonment issues, reader has religious trauma, mentions and exploration of the character's mental health, eventual smut (both characters are over 18!), alcohol consumption and weed use, homophobia both internalized and externalized, religion used as justification of homophobia.

Prologue drops Sunday 10/08/2025 at 7:00 pm Colombia time (UTC -5)

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

This is my first time publishing a story here, and I'm so excited to share it. I've been planning to do this since May, and it has finally come to life. A big special thanks to my friends @valeisaslut who helped me proofread and motivated me to write this, @satellitespinner who helped me with the graphics and the dividers, and everyone who motivated me to keep writing!

Thank you, my loves, without you, this wouldn't have been possible ♡ ︎

I really hope you guys like it, and I'll see you in a few hours for the prologue!

[modernvenuss]

PART TEN!!🥹🥹 i just wanted to say thank you so much for all the love on this series, i’m glad you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed making it! i do not want to stop writing so if you have ideas, drop them in my inbox! with love, maiz💋

tag list:

@modernvenuss

@scatorcciosbabe

@archivesctrccio

@lottieluvers

@azule-star

@irysque

@driftstar

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

liked by scatorccionat, mariibarrra, and others

y/n.l/n

might’ve won first place, but she’s the best prize 🤍🎀🖤

comments:

scatorccionat: mine mine mine mine mine🖤

⤷y/n.l/n: @scatorccionat yours yours yours yours yours🤍

jackietaylor_9: WHAT WEVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR😝🙌

⤷y/n.l/n: @jackietaylor_9 oh trust the suspense was killing everyone

yellowjacketsequipmentmanager: Wishing the best for you and Natalie! Can’t wait to see and hang out with you at games🥰

⤷y/n.l/n: @yellowjacketsequipmentmanager thank you misty!☺️

liked by y/n.l/n, ilovetaissaturner, and others

scatorccionat

little philly trip with my GIRLFRIEND i am so proud of my beautiful GIRLFRIEND

comments:

y/n.l/n: that’s my girlfriend suckers!!😚

⤷scatorccionat: @y/n.l/n your wife, y/n (we are so watching hotel transylvania when we get home)

tai.turner.soccer: @ilovetaissaturner double date with these two??

⤷scatorccionat: @tai.turner.soccer we are so incredibly down

coachbenscottofficial: So glad to see you so happy, Natalie! Paul and I are so proud of you. Tell her we said hi and cannot wait to meet her.😁

⤷scatorccionat: @coachbenscottofficial sure will! like dads, like daughter 😉🖤

kevyn.tan: ts can’t be real

⤷y.n/l.n: @kevyn.tan too bad i can make her sound like kiss it kiss it by reneé rapp and you can’t 😬💋

[modernvenuss]

IM STILL HERE SHOULD HAVE WON BEST PICTURE

sincerely: fuck the oscars.

[modernvenuss]

— YELLOWJACKETS SUMMER SMAU PART 1

including: shauna. jackie. nat. lottie. → part 2.

psa: first of all: this takes place in my summer au. also, the profiles might not be 100% in character since i had to use cast photos. i did my best, don’t come for me!! 😭 (i’ve been working on these for the past weeks, that shit took so long.)

SHAUNA SHIPMAN

shauna.shipman → shipwrecked

» priv followers: jackie. tai & you. | requested: melissa. | blocked: mari.

i think shauna would post pretty frequently, but it’s not exactly her number 1 priority to get post worthy content while on vacation. she brings her analogue camera everywhere anyway, meaning she’s bound to get some nice shots. most of shauna’s work doesn’t even make it to her main: it goes straight to the photography side account (which half the team treats like their free booking site. her pictures usually end up in someone else’s photo dump, too). also, shauna puts lots of effort into her captions, making sure to tag the locations, people, as well as the camera she used. her highlights are a just another showcase of said photography, organized by country codes.

JACKIE TAYLOR

jaqueline.taylor → private not tagged.

» priv followers: shauna. you. mari. lottie. nat. tai. van. akilah. gen. melissa. etc. | requested: jeff.

the grid of jackie’s main is put together suuuper carefully, with every post fitting into the current vibe of her feed. this summer, that’s all soft shades of green, with the occasional selfie + pictures of her she made you or shauna take. she’s much more active than shauna too, and while jackie obviously has a private account, it’s never publicly tagged, though she accepts most follow requests from teammates if they ask nicely. her few highlights are equally as manicured and she‘ll edit the covers so they’ll match her feed: 𝜗ৎ for anything aesthetically pleasing, ❦ for her loved ones (99.99% you & shauna), and 𝓙 for those shots of herself.

NAT SCATORCCIO

nat.scat → this is the one & only private account.

nat’s page is a mess: a private account with minimal followers, no proper bio & a profile pic that hasn’t been changed in a hot minute. and, still, nat’s is one of the most interesting accounts to scroll through: posts show up pretty frequently, surprisingly so, considering the small following, and have no sense of “aesthetic” whatsoever, serving more as a personal dumping ground (there will be random photos of you, which you didn’t even know were taken!!). nat has, for some reason, ten different highlights, all titled “Highlights” & each one an archive of what felt worth saving from that week. overall, it’s more for lurking than posting, and when a post does show up, it’s at like 2 am with zero caption/context.

LOTTIE MATTHEWS

charlottie.matthews → the concept of her private username being mothermatthews instead of mother nature…🤑

» priv followers: you. van. misty. akilah. gen. melissa. shauna. nat. etc. (+ basically all of her ‘followers’ from s2.)

lottie’s feed is all nice & colorful!! her grid is a mix of scenic views, snapshots of friends & teammates, and arranged market hauls. none of her highlights are titled, so their covers have to speak for themselves. if you click through them, you’ll see one is only pictures of her, another holds everything else. a recently added third features this trip: flowers growing off balconies, fruit at the market, the team sprawled out together on the beach etc etc. lottie always makes sure to tag everyone in her stories, in case someone wants to repost, and while you probably won’t find that many selfies on her grid, if you look closely, you’ll spot her in nearly every reflection, slipping in a pose (it’s like where’s waldo, but with lottie lmaooo)

[modernvenuss]

TO BE CRINGE IS TO BE FREE i hardly get embarrassed of things that i do bc nothing matters and nobody cares!!!!

[modernvenuss]

HARD CHALLENGE trying not to over-sexualize myself as a bipolar person

[modernvenuss]

No One Quite Like You | Natalie Scatorccio

request: After soccer practice (which we were ofc at, sitting on the bleachers watching our little Italian kick the ball around with a lovesick look on our face) we take her on a drive, basically just hanging out until it gets dark (🤺)

wc: 2500

warnings: brief mentions of canon/adjacent nat trauma, but that's it. just fluff and teenagers being dumb mostly

Daylight fades into a warm evening glow as Nat's soccer practice drags on with various drills and scrimmages—something that Nat will likely say you "didn't have to stick around for"—but it's become a biweekly habit since soccer season started.

She's darting across the field like she's trying to outrun something she can't quite name, badly bleached hair whipping around her as the ball comes flying her way. Her footwork is good—which is surprising, considering she's never this sharp during an actual game—and she dodges a head-on charge from a JV defender. 

You whistle and clap obnoxiously when she sinks the ball into the net, earning a dramatic and exaggerated groan from the goalie and a two-fingered salute from Nat.

When Coach Martinez finally blows the whistle and everyone filters off the field, Nat immediately bounds over to where you sit in the bleachers and throws her dufflebag at you.

"Sup, loser?" she says once she gets in front of you, hands on her hips like some sort of two-bit superhero.  "You enjoy your daily dose of sweaty chicks exercising?"

You scowl playfully, acting like the most repulsive, pungent smell hit you. "You smell gnarly. Maybe hit the showers before I let you ride shotgun?" You toss the bag back at her, rolling your eyes when she stumbles back with an oof. "Not letting you stink up my car."

"Please," she scoffs, throwing the strap of the bag over her shoulder. "Y're only driving me home. No point in showering here when I can just do it there."

"Nah. I'm kidnapping you for the night. We're going on a drive—you don't have a choice in the matter." Your chin tips toward the locker rooms in a vague nod. "So go shower and put on something that doesn't smell like hot shit, loser."

Nat hesitates for half a second, blinking a few times before shrugging like she wasn't fazed by the idea of an impromptu date night. "Mmkay. Y'better not run off while I'm in there, though." She points a finger at you dramatically as she begins walking backwards. "Last thing I need is to walk back home lookin' like a wet rat, yeah?"

You kill time by flicking through a few radio stations in your parents' Toyota Corolla, half-listening to some scratchy alt-rock track as your eyes wander the now-empty soccer field. The sun has long since started to set over the horizon, painting pinks and purples across the sky, completely free of clouds—perfect for the night you have planned.

By the time Nat jogs back out, her damp hair is shoved into a ratty trucker's cap, wearing her letterman and the same ripped jeans she's worn all week.

She yanks open the passenger door and slides in with a theatrical sigh, ever dramatic. "Alrigh', dork. I've been kidnapped. Where we being kidnapped to?"

You flash her a grin as you shift into reverse. "Wouldn't be a proper kidnapping if I told you."

"Whatever." She snorts, kicking her feet up on the dash and throwing her seat back like an obnoxious teenager—which she is, really. "'long as wherever we're goin' has food. 'm fucking starving." A few pats on her stomach for effect, and a stupid grin as she steals your water bottle from where you had wedged it between the seat and center console.

"Sure, help yourself, Nat." You turn down the street, heading to the singular fast food restaurant in what feels like the whole county—Burger King.

The drive there is filled with lacklustre attempts to convince Nat to take her boots off the dash—which all fail—and music from the mixtape she had tucked away in her Walkman earlier in the day. You pay without question when you reach the drive-thru and order two chicken nugget meals. Nat 'offers' to pay you back later, but you both know that she has a total of ten dollars to her name, and all ten will be going to another pack of smokes.

Nat passes you fries as you drive, humming along to Heart-Shaped Box as it bleeds through your speakers. By the time you leave the town and head into the surrounding woodland, the sky is nearly black, and Nat's started paying attention to where you two are going. She trusts you—that much is obvious—but you also know it's killing her not to know where you're headed.

So, you give a little bit of information on your next french fry. "Found a place that looks really nice to watch the stars," you say quietly, as if it's embarrassing to admit. "Figured we could spend a couple of hours there, give or take."

She fights a blush at the implication that you had picked this spot out for the two of you, half-shrugging. "Yeah, well… I can think of worse ways to spend the night, y'know?" She nudges you with her foot, finally dropping it from the dash. 

A smile twitches its way onto your face, and you nod. "Yeah. I can… definitely think of worse ways to spend the night." You casually rest your hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing small circles into the denim. 

"I really like you," you whisper a beat later—like it's some big secret and not the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Dork," Nat murmurs back, resting her hand on top of yours. "But… me too."

You've stopped trying to fight the smile. 

You're turning into the clearing not long later, parking the Corolla on the gravel before throwing your door open theatrically. 

"We're here." You gesture to the… nothingness… then head around to the trunk and pull out the emergency blanket your mom keeps stored in there.

Nat stumbles out of the car gracelessly, scratching her chin as she glances around. "Y'know, guess that's the good part 'bout livin' in fuckin' nowhere. You can actually see the stars."

You hum, moving to the hood of the car and laying the blanket on it. "Mhm. Come on. We're gonna eat nuggets and point out constellations like the couple of losers we are." 

She murmurs something about how you're such a dork—but she's never been good at staying away from dorks. 

A comfortable silence washes over you as she snuggles under the blanket, nuzzling close in a way she'd never do around other people. Chicken nuggets are eaten beneath the protection of a quilt older than you, and at some point, you steal her cap and put it on your head—to which she says something about how ridiculous you are. But—she doesn't steal it back. Just presses her face into the side of your neck and throws her arm over your waist.

You don't ask about how you've been seeing strange, older men pulling up to Nat's trailer late at night, and how she usually makes the trek over to yours those nights. You don't mention the screaming matches that are just as loud as they were when her dad was still kicking. Hell, you don't even ask why you haven't been seeing that tomcat that used to roam the trailer park anymore—you just let her find comfort in one of the few things that still gives her some.

"Played really well at practice today. Gonna kick ass next game," you murmur once the nuggets run out and Nat grows restless against you. "When you guys win the next game, I'll take you out to Applebee's."

Nat huffs against your neck, rolling her eyes. "Wow, real romantic, babe. Date night at Applebee's."

"Hey, don't knock Applebee's. We had our first date there."

And she laughs at that. Warm, open, and happy. It's a sweet sound you don't hear all that often—Nat giddy with joy—and it reminds you just how head over heels you are for this woman. The same woman who, only a week ago, broke into the chem lab with Kevyn to make a bong—so, no, not a good influence—but apparently your heart didn't get the memo.

"Yeah, and my chicken was raw and burnt at the same time," she shoots back, but doesn't deny that it was a date or a good night. "Only ended up eating the fries and milkshake."

"After they comped the milkshake because you were too broke to pay for it," you laugh, squeezing her hand where it rests on your waist. 

"They ruined chicken on a perfectly good date night, thank you," Nat grins, propping up on an elbow to look down at you. "I earned that milkshake for risking salmonella." 

"Oh, food poisoning. You could have died."

She falls back onto the hood with a brief giggle, stretching her arms over her head. "I could have. They should have been worried about a lawsuit."

You bark out a laugh at that, swatting at her shoulder once she curls up against your side again. "Please. Any self-respecting lawyer would take one look at you, then tell you to fuck off." You run a hand through her tangled hair, glancing up at the night sky, then pointing to a constellation when you see it. "Hey, big dipper."

There's no light pollution from nearby cities or work sites to drown out the stars, leaving you with an unobstructed view that some people drive forever to find. 

"You see that one?" Nat points to a bright blue star that takes you a moment to find. "That's Spica. And those—" She makes a vague shape with her finger, then grabs your hand and attempts to point it out to you when you look confused as hell. "—stars make up Virgo."

"Oh," you murmur once it clicks in your head. "What's… it supposed to look like?"

"It's s'psed to look like a lady. Demeter. Y'know, Greek God?" She doesn't laugh at how you didn't know the answer—which surprises you, honestly—just tries to explain it in a way you understand before pointing out another constellation.

"You know a lot about this stuff." You glance over at her, taking in her side profile as the moon casts shadows across her face. "When'd you learn all this?"

Nat just shrugs, not turning to face you despite knowing your eyes are on her. 

You think that might be the end of it—just a quiet moment under the stars, her pretending not to notice how you keep looking at her. But then she speaks again, voice a little rougher around the edges. "Used to just… go outside sometimes after… y'know. After he died." Her mouth twists around the words like they feel wrong, but she keeps going anyway. "Mom doesn't really do quiet. House hasn't felt quiet in months."

There's a pause. She plucks at a loose thread on the blanket between you, just to give her hands something to do.

"Just got tired of listening to her try to fill it with noise, I guess. So I'd come out here instead—started reading dumb astrology books in the library. Figured if the stars were gonna be there every night, I might as well learn their names."

You're quiet for a moment, letting that process, before finding her fingers above the blanket and tangling them with yours. 

"You could always stay with me. Just if… you want to, you know? My window's always open."

Nat doesn't respond to that, but she doesn't pull away from you—which you know is as much comfort as she's ever gonna accept.

So, you pivot slightly.

"Or, well, sometimes it's open. Depends if I can actually get it open."

She snorts, and the mood lightens just like that.

"You're such a loser," she mutters, voice nothing if not warm as she tucks her head in closer to you. 

Silence again—comfortable silence broken only by the sound of cicadas and the occasional car passing on the nearby road. For a fleeting moment, you think Nat might be falling asleep against your chest, finally allowing herself to succumb to some sort of serenity. Then, like most things in her life, she breaks the stillness with barely audible words:

"Sometimes I think you're the only thing that feels kinda normal."

You aren't looking at her, but you can tell she's blushing based on how her face presses into the side of your neck with a groan, like she's trying to hide from the few birds that still fly at night. 

"That was gross," you tease, pressing your lips to her forehead softly, grinning as she pinches your side in retaliation. 

"No, you're gross. I was just havin' a moment an' you had to ruin it by bein' a dumbass." She pulls back a fraction to attempt a scowl, but it lacks any effect that it should have when it's obvious that she's just trying to suppress a grin. "Don't know why I put up with you."

You just grin up at her, goofy and unguarded, like her statement was nothing more than fond.

And, well, based on the way she looks down at you like you might be the best thing that ever happened to her, you know it is. And—better still—she doesn't look away as her scowl softens into the faintest of smiles.

"Real happy you took me out tonight, y'know." Her hand moves to brush against your cheek, fingers skimming across your skin with a grace you rarely see her possess—one she seems to save just for you. 

Nat's lips are on yours before you can come up with a witty or sardonic reply, soft and chapped. Sure, she kisses you to shut you up, but it's far from rushed. 

You let yourself kiss her back, gentle and slow, trying not to think too hard about what it means—or, well, what any of this means. Just her and you, lying on the hood of your parents' beat-up hatchback and trying not to fall off in the haze of kissing.

When she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours for a second longer than necessary. 

Eventually, she lies flat against the hood—which is, now that you think about it, likely covered in dead bugs from highway driving—and rests her head back on your chest, like it belongs there.

Maybe, in some weird sense, it does.

The world hums quietly around you. Cicadas sing somewhere nearby, their chorus softened by distance. Leaves rustle when the wind shifts. A bird calls once, then again, then goes quiet. Nat breathes in slow and lets it out even slower, and you match her rhythm without thinking.

She breathes out a sigh against your chest when a particularly cold breeze passes over you. "Could sleep right here."

"You'd roll off and break your face."

Nat hums, unfazed. "Wouldn't be the worst injury I've had this season."

You snort and run your hands through her hair again, settling into the warmth she provides despite the chill. It's comfortable—the type of familiarity you only have with someone you've known for the better part of your life.

"Thanks for the night away," she murmurs, finding your hand under the blanket.

You don't respond. You just squeeze her hand three times and press your lips to her forehead gently as your eyes shut.

Maybe you tell her you love her. Maybe she says it back. Maybe she just squeezes your hand a little tighter.

a/n: im tagging these two people specifically cus they've both desperately asked for happy fics before @modernvenuss @nonyahb . i can write happy things i promise.

[modernvenuss]

lottie going to italy for a summer meeting you who lives there and just enjoying the summer with each other till she has to leave (she doesn’t leave 3 months with you was enough to convince her to move to italy)

— ITALIAN SUMMER with lottie matthews

warnings: lots of fluff & some nsfw content. mdni. fem!reader. strangers to lovers. very bad google-translated italian. also it’s 1am and i did not beta read.

maybe you're a local, renting out the other half of your house to people like her: travelers & backpackers, passing through on their way further south. you’re used to hosting guests, showing them where to find the nearest supermarket and which beaches are worth the walk that down show up on any maps.

when you first decided to rent out the empty side of the house, too large to live in on your own, too expensive to afford without a side income, it was odd, sleeping under the same roof as strangers. you could hear them go on about their lives, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs or groups of three, one unlucky person having to take the couch.

very quickly, you learned how to vet your requests, though, figuring out which bookings to accept and what sort of questions to ask ahead of time to make sure they’d be easy to live with and eventually, the initial nerves faded and hosting became just another part of your routine, no different from doing the laundry or making coffee in the morning.

it came with its perks, too, meeting people from all over the world: they shared their stories over a bottle of wine, and you got to learn things about cities you might never see from people who’d lived in them.

all of this to say, people coming and going is a familiar process you've long since grown accustomed to: a few guests in & out during the warmer months, then a winter to yourself before the cycle begins again.

right from the start, lottie is different.

she arrives on a hot afternoon, with an overstuffed duffel bag slung over her shoulder. you watch her from your bedroom window: this tall, brunette stranger walking up the drive, shielding her eyes from the sun. she's even prettier than her booking photo suggested (which you would never openly admit. professionalism, and all that. and developing a crush on someone you’re about to live with, even temporarily, is the opposite of professional)

still, it’s hard not to notice the little details about her, the tall and (unfortunately for you) lean body, her dark hair pulled up with a few pieces escaping to frame her face, tanned shoulders exposed by the thin straps of her tank top. you remember the name on the reservation reading “charlotte matthews”.

now charlotte matthews is in your doorway, offering you a hesitant smile as you rush out to greet her.

“buon pomeriggio,” she says, her accent sweet but thick on every syllable she attempts to speak. “Io…sto cercando…” charlotte frowns, digging into the side pocket of her bag. “una chiave?” she finishes hopefully, holding up the translated printout of her reservation. you smile, charmed despite yourself. “you don’t have to try that hard.” you tell her, holding the spare set of keys in your palm. it’s sweet that she is trying, but the discomfort in having to do so is written all over her face. “i speak english.” “oh, thank god.” she sighs relieved. “i practiced on the train. i think the guy next to me wanted to jump out the window.” “you’re not bad,” you offer, surprised at how easily you slip into teasing the stranger. “you’ve clearly made an effort.” charlotte shrugs and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “maybe i’m overcompensating for the fact that i can’t do anything else around here without google translate.” you laugh, stepping aside so she can drag her bag over the threshold. “first time in this part of the country?” “in this part of the world,” charlotte replies, taking in the shared living room and the hanging herbs above the kitchen door. “i needed a break.“ you nod. you’ve heard that one before. glancing down at the booking sheet, you ask: “so…charlotte, right?” she pauses and finally takes her sunglasses off, her brown eyes meeting yours. “lottie,” she corrects. “you can call me lottie.”

the first few nights with lottie in the house are oddly quiet: after her arrival, she keeps a polite distance between you two, unsure how much space she’s allowed to take up. during the dinners, lottie doesn’t speak much, but offers to help with the preparation, her posture remaining a little too tense.

it’s not that you mind: you’re used to guests being tentative on their first days. hosting has taught you how to sense boundaries & how to let people take their time with it. and, still, there’s something about lottie that makes you hyperaware of her silences, feeling her gaze lingering when she thinks you’re not looking.

slowly but surely, things shift though.

lottie starts to hover closer. by the fourth or fifth night, she’s at ease enough to lean against the counter while you cook, sipping a glass of red as she watches you stir pasta on the stove. conversations are made more easily, during dinner as well as before, when lottie will steal bites from your cutting board.

the kitchen grows warm in the evenings, lit by the golden spill of sunlight from the window, when you’ll cook in her company. unlike your past guests, where shared meals were a courtesy you were paid to offer, your evenings with lottie feel so much easier. they’re something you find yourself looking forward to as the sun sets, wondering what she’ll ask you tonight.

once the nights grow hot enough for it, you start eating outside, with the cicadas buzzing in the surrounding area. you sit across from one another at a wooden table in the backyard, overlooking the nearby town in the distance. some nights, your bare feet brush under the table, ankle to ankle, and neither of you bothers to move away.

lottie starts talking more, too, telling you about the town she’s from and how she used to play on her high school’s soccer team. you listen, chin propped in your palm, your gaze drifting over the curve of her mouth when she smiles. some most nights you lose track of time completely: the bottle empties on its own accord and the plates stay out long after the food is gone because neither of you wants to move away just yet.

by the first saturday morning (market day, and you invited her along), lottie is up before you, clearly growing comfortable in the house. you find her outside on the front steps, with a coffee in hand. one of the neighborhood strays is curled at her bare feet, purring comfortably. blinking at the morning sun, you stand in the doorway when lottie looks over her shoulder. “thought i’d try being the early one for once.” she smiles.

not long after, the two of you walk the few minutes down the hill to the market together.

“and this one?” she asks, holding up a fat tomato. lottie has been doing this all morning, turning shopping into an opportunity to practice her italian. “what’s this one?” “pomodoro,” you answer in italian, pulling your own from the stack to inspect. “pomo…do…ro,” lottie echoes, butchering the pronunciation ever so slightly. “not bad.” you laugh, and she gives you a look. “that’s a lie.” carefully, she puts the tomato down and follows you to the next stall. “okay, then what’s this one?” she asks, lifting a bunch of basil. “wait! don’t tell me. is it just… basil?” “basilico,” you translate, amused. “basilico,” she repeats, her eyes narrowing in concentration. “how did i do?” “better.” “see?” she nudges you with her shoulder, arms brushing together as you walk to the next stall.

a few days later, on a wednesday, the temperature reaches a point of being unbearable. the town, even in this heat, is swarming with tourists, and lottie seems content to follow wherever you lead when you offer to show her one of your favorite spots. she doesn’t ask any questions until the trail you guide her along starts climbing, the path turning rocky yoder your feet, veering away from the coast road.

“not a fan of sand?” she teases, brushing a twig from her ankle. “of crowds,” you reply, looking back at her to make sure she’s following along. “you’ll see.”

the hike isn’t long, or else you doubt you would’ve ever found the spot, but it’s so far from the main roads you lose the sound of cars behind you. out here, the air deems even thicker, and thankfully the breeze picks up as the cliffs open out, and you stop when you find the right spot. your favourite is a flat stretch of stone, predictably empty since most tourists don’t bother with the steep cliffs all around, jutting out over the sea. the water below is clear, shades of turquoise & sapphire shifting with the sun. you’ve had it all to yourself for years.

lottie drops her towel, stepping to the edge. “holy shit..”you laugh, setting your own things down. “i told you so!” “you didn’t do it justice.” she turns around, standing above you now. you shrug, quickly starting to fumble with your bag, not willing to face the feelings that rise in your chest as lottie looks at you, her skin golden with sunlight, making you feel warmer than the air around you. “go ahead,” you say, motioning toward the water. “you’ll never want to leave.”

much to your surprise, she does go right ahead.

after quickly tossing aside her t-shirt and pulling down her skirt, lottie dives, her body slicing into the water. a beat later, you follow her, sending up a loud crash of foam that startles the birds from the cliffs as you cannonball down the rocks.

both of you come up laughing, hair clinging to your faces in long, wet strands. for the hours that follow, you & lottie float; on your backs, limbs stretched, occasionally drifting close enough for your fingers to touch. you race each other toward the rocks and back, competitive to a point where you both cheat, ducking under to pull gently at one another’s ankles, then laughing through mouthfuls of salt water.

everything with lottie seems to feel effortless like that.

eventually, your muscles start to ache and your fingers prune. you’re the first to haul yourself out, using your hands to steady yourself as you climb back. once up there, you turn to watch lottie.

using her obliviousness to you advantage, you find yourself staring at her, the stretch of her body down below, the swell of her chest and the strong motions of her legs, presumably from the years of soccer practice, kicking through the water.

when she finally surfaces, you have to force yourself to look the other way as water spills down her shoulders, her hair slicked back. she swims toward the edge and climbs up with ease, not bothering to reach for her shirt, which still lies where she left it, folded at the edge of the rock.

her lashes are wet, dripping down her face, and her lip is caught between her teeth as she smiles at you. for some reason, you can’t hold her gaze. with your cheeks hot, you glance down at your feet, gripping your towel too tightly in your hands.

“hey,” lottie says softly, sensing a change. “you okay?” “yeah,” you nod quickly. “no, yeah, i’m just…tired!”thankfully, she doesn’t press. regardless, lottie keeps looking at you, tilting her head as if she sees more than you want her to. you don’t meet her eyes again until she starts drying off.

things change for good between you a little while after your swimming incident:

it happens on a night when the power cuts out, not unusual for this part of the country during a summer storm. it rolls in fast, the wind turning the shutters on their hinges, lightning flashing across the hilltops. not long after that, the lights go dark, your house plunging into shadows.

you light a few candles in the kitchen, where you meet lottie. neither of you can sleep through it, the thunder too loud & the downpour too heavy on the roof. together, you huddle barefoot in the doorway to watch the rain, your hands hanging close but not quite touching.

“how do you ever get used to this?” she murmurs, watching as lightning cracks across the sky. “i mean, how do you just…live somewhere this beautiful?” you turn to answer her, planning to say that maybe you don’t notice anymore, familiar with the views & landscapes, but lottie turns her head at the exact same time, and her face ends up right there, so much closer than you realized it would be, and the words never leave your mouth, useless on your tongue. lottie’s eyes drop to your mouth in the dark. “i’m-” she says, her fingers twisting nervously. “i really shouldn’t-”you don’t dare to move away. “i’m so sorry,” lottie whispers, right as she leans in. her hand finds the back of your neck, and you lean into the touch as your lips part for her mouth, that’s both warm & a little unsure. you wonder how long it’s been since she last kissed somebody. how long it’s been since you did. your hands grip lottie’s arms, suddenly unable to live with the thought that she could ever pull back and not let you have this, the taste of her mouth, which has taken on the taste of your own with how long she’s already lived in the same space. when lottie finally does pull away, if only to gasp for air, her eyes immediately search your face. “fuck,” she stammers. “i’m sorry. i- i didn’t come here for this, i swear! i just…i can’t stop thinking about you.” instead of accepting her unnecessary apology, or telling her that, surely, you’re worse, always paying too much attention to someone who’s supposed to be your guest, your thoughts slipping to her even when you’re on your own, with a hand between your thighs, you pull lottie back in.

that night, you end up in your bed.

your legs are looped around lottie’s waist, her forehead pressed to your shoulder, breathing in your scent. the storm is dying down outside, reduced to occasional rumbles, yet inside the room, everything seems ten times louder: from her breath to your heartbeat, racing in your chest over the sounds your body makes as it shifts underneath hers.

lottie hovers above you, her weight braced on one forearm to move along your thigh with the other. so much like her kisses, lottie’s initial touch is unsure. the longer you stay there, though, wrapped around her, the more her confidence builds. her fingertips trace the crease where your leg bends, lingering there, learning you in pieces. your breath stutters, and you lift your hips toward her as your heel presses into the small of her back.

“are you okay?” she breathes. too breathless to speak, you only manage a weak nod and pull her into a kiss, your mouth opening under hers. lottie is so warm, your hands tremble where they clutch at her shoulders. inch by inch, she sinks into you. one finger, then two, until you stretch around her with a whimper and your back arches as she presses deeper, the pads of her finger touching that tender place inside you that makes your eyes flutter. the rain has stopped and you can hear the chirp of cicadas, the crash of a wave down the hill again. and her, lottie: you can hear lottie breathing, feel it at the hollow of your throat where she noses gently, leaving a trail of kisses down your collarbone. her hand starts to move, every roll of her hips met with a soft sound from your mouth, your body so achingly pliant for her. “fuck,” lottie curses quietly. “i can’t believe i get to touch you like this…you’re so- god- you’re taking me so good. just like that…” you whimper, hips rocking up again, drawing a groan from lottie. “look at me,” she pleads. you eyes open as your fingers curl into her back. “i’ve got you. let me make you feel good, i’ve got you.” and she does. your orgasm washes over you with your face buried in her shoulder and lottie whispering you through it. you come hard, trembling in her hold. later, you lie tangled together on the thin sheets, with her bare chest pressed to your back. you feel her fingers moving over your stomach, drawing invisible shapes to keep touching you. “was that okay?” she murmurs to the shell of your ear. you nod, whispering back: “mhm, more than.” lottie kisses your shoulder. “i can’t believe i waited this long.”you can hear her smile and reach for her hand, twining your fingers with hers across your stomach.

from there on, the rest of your summer passes you by in a blur.

you wake up to fresh espresso lottie brings you to bed each morning, smiling sleepily as she perches on the edge of the mattress, wearing nothing but one of your shirts. you start sharing a bed without ever discussing it, too, and fall into each other like she’s always been there. she reads books from your shelf and you trace patterns on her freckled shoulders while she turns the pages, you walk the vineyards with your hand in hers, and she leans into you to snap photos of the hills & cypress trees.

sometimes, lottie plays the old guitar that’s been collecting dust since you moved in, and you sit nearby while she sings whatever songs come to mind, watching her laugh when she gets it wrong. in return, you help her with her italian.

you start having dinners in fancy restaurants you never used to afford, and, on the walk home, your fingers find each other’s, linking. then she pulls you into the shadow of an alleyway and kisses you, gasping when your thigh presses between hers, gripping your shirt and biting your shoulder to keep you from being discovered.

with every night, your sex becomes more familiar: lottie kisses your neck while you ride her slowly. your hands are in her hair as she eats you out. you cling to her when she grinds against you, something she loves to do.

lottie starts staying longer. one week past her booking, then another, and yet you never charge her for it.

then, one morning before sunrise, she wakes you up. you blink up at the sky that’s just beginning to lighten, sensing something is off. storm clouds have gathered above the olive groves, threatening rain again, and lottie wraps herself in your flannel, pulling you out onto the balcony.

“i booked a one-way ticket,” she explains there, hesitantly, her eyes trained on the clouds. “but i think…look, i hope i’m not overstepping, but i think i want to stay.”

you gawk at her, your heart leaping into your throat.

“if you’ll have me?” lottie adds shyly.

that, you don’t need to be asked twice.

you set the coffee she’s made you aside and wrap your arms around her, burying your face in the crook of her neck as she breathes out a disbelieving laugh. you wouldn’t have admitted it to her openly, but you’d feared that a day would come where she would want to leave. you didn’t want that fear to ruin your good days together, but it was always there, lingering, and hearing this is perhaps the greatest relief she could’ve offered.

“benvenuta a casa, lottie,” you whisper. welcome home.

[modernvenuss]

acho que uma das perguntas mais difíceis e complexas de responder é “quem sou eu quando não estou peformando?” sinto que to peformando 24/7 e não sei sei quem ou o que sou.

[modernvenuss]

i need to switch my meds bc this is NOT working

[modernvenuss]

thank you izzie we all say in union

GUILTY CONSCIENCE (chapter two)

THE TELL TALE HEART ♡

𓂃⋆.˚ businesswoman!ellie x exoticdancer!reader.ᐟ

𓂃⋆.˚ wordcount 5.1k (they will get longer, i promise.)

𓂃⋆.˚ content warnings SMUT, the chapter literally starts with smut. fingering + minimal pussy eating (r!rec) top!ellie x bottom!reader, barely dom/sub, arguing, ellie is lowkey insane, reader is self conscious, ellie is a coward, this is lowkey a filler chapter.. be warned, cheating (?), lying, things get steamy between Ellie and Dina, sub!bottom!ellie x dom!top!dina, they’re both switches, pussy eating + fingering (e!rec) more ellie lore, riley mention!!, mentions of underage drinking, foster care, abuse, and neglect. ACTUALLY PROOFREAD!! by my goat @valeisaslut!!! 😒 theres ur fucking mention. comments critiques, and reblogs are widely appreciated, talk to me and i’ll talk back! ⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

. ✦ ݁ ˖ PREVIOUS CHAPTER -> NEXT CHAPTER . ✦ ݁ ˖

Guilt is a strong feeling, it drives you crazy, haunts you to the point of insanity.

Ellie Williams was familiar with the feeling. She didn't know when or how, but it definitely started when she was young. Guilt craved its way into her chest, making a home there for what seemed to be the rest of her life.

“Are you stalking me or just happened to be at my work place at three in the morning?” you stomp over to your car, clearly not pleased with the woman's presence. Your tone is angry, Ellie can tell you're unhappy with her—and God does it turn her on.

“Y’know, I could get you arrested for stalking! I know people.” A big fat lie. You knew it, and Ellie knew it.

The taller woman laughs, stepping off your car. Her suit is looser than usual, her tie hanging from around her neck like someone had tried to pull her out of it.

“I think there’s something you forgot to tell me, sunshine.” she smirks, taking a singular step closer to you.

“Nope, I don't think there is.” You shake your head sarcastically, stepping closer to your car door, ready to pull the door open and flee.

“You’re a dancer. You forgot to mention that.” You can hear the smile on her face, she's probably relishing in the fact that you're beneath her, that you're doing everything you could to make ends meet while she could retire now and would be well off for the rest of her life.

You turn around quickly, dropping your duffel onto the hard concrete, not caring about the items in there. Not even considering that you couldn’t afford to replace them if broken.

“Like how you forgot to mention your marriage?! I don't owe you shit!” you bite, almost pushing up against her. You can tell she's stunned, unaware of how you found out about her not-so-secret significant other. “What I do with my life is not your concern, so stay out of it!” you spit, your faces practically touching from the lack of distance.

“Oh, but you don't want that. Do you, baby?” she coos, leaning in even closer. Before you know it, one of her hands is around your waist, pulling your body against hers. You can smell the alcohol on her breath, a fancy whiskey that you couldn’t quite name.

You're unsure on how to respond, your planned insults now running away from you. You try to chase, but it doesn't work. You're left just standing here, dumbfounded under her gaze.

“No words, love? Thought you wanted to fight.” she whispers, her face leaning in even closer. You part your lips, hoping for her to slip hers in between them. She moves a hand to the side of your face, her thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. She slams you against the car door as gently as possible, her lips inching impossibly close and impossibly not close enough as grazing your own.

“You watched me, found my car. What will the wife say about this, Els?” the nickname hits her like a freight train. Dina used it quite often, during fights, during work, during sex.

Ellie groans, and finally—your lips meet.

You dont care who sees you, your number one priority right now was showing this lunatic how good you could fuck.

Maybe you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this, but too little too late, because now Ellie was pulling you off of your car and ushering you into her own.

You whimper against her lips as you hit the leather coating of the backseats, taking a second to look around the car's golden accents and matte black interior as Ellie removes your sweats. The car was beautiful on the exterior, but the inside was glorious.

Your studying session was cut short. You jump when Ellie slams her lips against yours once again. You're there in your underwear, surely smelling of sweat and alcohol with your makeup separating and lashes falling off.

But to Ellie, you were the most beautiful girl she had ever seen.

“So fuckin’ pretty..” she murmurs into your mouth, her tongue dancing gracefully against your own. You moan against her, bucking your hips into her own. She chuckles, slipping a hand down to circle your clit through your parties— the already soaked fabric drawing her hands in like crack.

“Fuck.. saw you dancing up there, baby… loved every single minute of it.” Ellie's tone was seductive, her husky voice sending shivers up your spine and desire to your core.

“Yeah? You liked watching me, Ellie? You get off on that?” she moans into the air as you buck your wet sex into her hand, eager to get her fingers to slip underneath the damp fabric.

“That shit turned me on s’much. Fuck baby, you’re so sexy.” Ellie continues to talk in your ear, her dirty words causing you to arch your back. She shifts her lips to the right side of your neck, large hickeys showing up after a short time.

Finally, she slips her digits between the fabric. You feel her spasm against your body at the feeling of your wet cunt, continuing to move against her as she grinds her fingers into your clit. The plush knot withering in her finger tips, a string of high pitched mewls fill the vehicle.

You feel your orgasm approach rapidly and Ellie senses it too. She chuckles, and slips a single finger into your wet cunt. You moan, grasping at her hair as she lowers her head down. Now, she was face to face with your pussy, two of her fingers pumping in and out of your dripping hole as her tongue plays with your erect clit.

“mph, Ellie!” you all but scream. You were sure the car was shaking, and you were positive that any ears in a five mile radius could hear you. Ellie hums into your core, the action alone throwing you over the edge. Your body shooks underneath her, her fingers still pumping in and out of you.

‘M’ cumming!” you whimper as her movements continue, coming to a stop. Eventually, your moans came to a hault—easing into mere desperate pants. The two of you were entangled in something so beautiful, yet so wrong. A doomed love affair, if you could even call it that.

“Holy fuck,” ellie gasped, slowly pulling her arousal soaked fingers out of you. You moan into the air at the feeling, reaching for her, but she already had a feeling of what you wanted. She leans in again, stealing a chaste kiss from your spit covered lips. You tangle a hand into her hair as she's pulling away.

“Thanks, stalker.” you wink, your voice now breathy and light.

Ellie scoffs jokingly, pushing herself off of you. She quickly helps you slip into your sweats, the cozy wool welcoming your legs eagerly. You huff at the sudden pleasure, but also the newfound uncomfortableness between your legs.

She helps you out of the car, as if leading a princess out of her palace. You giggle, taking her hand quickly. The gravity of your actions is not quite hitting you yet. As you looked around the parking lot, you realized it was now vacant, beside you, Ellie, and a lone figure lingering by the door. You don't think anything of it—spotting the dancer duffle bag under the shining light.

“Let me drive you home?” she asks, pulling you into her body, you reject the familiar feeling, but keep her hand in your own. Her smile is dopey, drunk and clearly only thinking about getting in your pants again.

“I’ve got my car here, Ellie..” you look up at her, matching her toothy smile.

She shrugged, “So?” she asks, still allowing you to lead her to your car. To anyone else, she looked like a lovesick dummy, but to you? she wasn't sure.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing at her idiotic comment. “So, that means I can drive myself home.” you state, matter-of-factly. You pick up your duffel, and slip into the front seat. Ellie leans into your open window.

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow, stalker?”

Ellie bites her lip, looking to the side. She looks back and shakes her head sarcastically.

“Maybe you will, maybe you won't. We'll see, sunshine.” She licks her lips as she murmurs, staring directly into your eyes.

You noticed her pupils had dilated, taking up the usual green of her eyes.

You nod, unable to keep your words in your mouth, “See what the wife thinks?” you see her take a deep breath. She taps the side of your vehicle

“See you tomorrow.” she calls your name, bidding you a last goodbye with a small flutter of her eye.

You bite your lip. God she was ruthless.

You didn't see Ellie the following day.

In fact, you didn't see her for the next week. the feeling of guilt slowly but surely climbs its way up your throat.

You felt unworthy, stupid, guilty. What kind of whore sleeps with a married woman? you were pathetic. You thought to yourself.

And maybe you were, but you yearned for that high again. You wanted to feel the way she made you feel over and over again until it became an addiction.

It had been a week since you slept with Ellie, the scene replaying in your head relentlessly. You didn't see her on Thursday, her usual spot in the bar lay empty.

Now you were back on stage. You tried to shift your mindset, but it was nearly impossible to not search for those green eyes.

When you finished your set, you were greeted with no less than six texts from Callie.

did u get flowers for yourself?

theres a huge arrangement at the doorr

hold upp

WHO ARE THESE FROM.

WHO ARE YOU SNEAKY FUCKING?!

You raise an eyebrow at her messages, just about to respond when an image comes through. A giant floral arrangement set on your counter. Your jaw drops. It was gorgeous. The pot was blooming with the most expensive roses, and colorful flowers you couldn’t even name.

A large smile creeps up onto your face. You knew exactly who did this.

“What you smiling at?” Abby's booming voice breaks your trance. You turn around quickly, hugging your phone to your chest.

“Nothing…” you lie, warmth creeping up in your cheeks.

Abby rolls her eyes lovingly before holding out a small cup of fries. Your eyes widen, quickly snatching the food from her hand. You silently thank her, nodding while stuffing a handful of fries into your mouth. The woman giggles, slowly turning to make her way back to the bar side.

“Wait, Abby!” you call out, voice slightly muffled by the absurd amount of food you were chewing.

She turns around again, a long pause whilst you finish your bite of food.

“Have you..” you hesitate, “Have you talked to or seen Ellie?” You plead, gaze pensive.

But Abby shakes her head surely. “No. What makes you think I've seen her if you haven’t?” the blonde jokes, you don't laugh. Abby sighs, you can tell she's caught on and her tone is all but disappointed.

“Look, kid. I know there isn't anything I can say or do to stop you from doing this. but just.. be careful.” You nod up at her, giggling slightly at her mother-like tone. You figured that was the end of her advice session, but she continues. “There’s a serious power imbalance here, does she know how old you are? Have you already slept together? Does that ring mean nothing to you?”

You shush her at her last sentence, eyes widening, shoulders tensing. “Yes! It means everything to me.” you whisper yell.

She peers down at you, waiting for you to answer her other questions. Seconds pass, so she reiterates.

“Have you slept together?” Her body language is demanding. You writhe in embarrassment. Abby knows you, and you both know how this could go.

“No.” you grill.

Abby didn't have to know that you slept with Ellie, and she sure as hell didn't need to know that you planned on doing it again.

She nods, slowly turning around and walking back to her place behind the bar. You let a deep breath escape your lungs, a loud feeling settling into your gut. A sickness only to be described as guilt.

As soon as you enter the apartment, you're met with Callie's booming voice.

“Oh welcome home, liar!” She doesn't miss a beat. Her expression is serious.

“I am not lying about anything.” you tell her calmly, walking over to the kitchen, dropping your duffel down on the floor.

“My apologies, with-holder of important information.” Callie rolls her eyes.

You snort at her humorous response. She meets you at the island, plastic cup in hand. She quickly passes it to you, the edges fog up at the chilled liquid, unfamiliar red wine meeting your tastebuds.

You hum at the rich taste, “Where’d you get this?” you practically moan. She kisses her teeth gently.

“Your little plaything... came with the flowers.” you roll your eyes. This was Callie’s unserious way of inquiring about your private life, although, there wasn't much that was considered private. TMI was non-existent between the two of you.

“Jesus, Cal. I don't have a plaything.” you gently tug the flowers towards the two of you. Callie begins picking through the arrangement, eager to identify the different types.

“So you’re telling me you haven’t fucked Ellie?” she murmurs in disbelief, concentrating on the fancy bouquet. You fiddle with the small card attached, hoping, praying your best friend doesn't see.

“These might not even be from Ellie, who knows.” you shrug as Callie flicks a particularly annoying piece of hair over her shoulder, still face first in your flowers.

Suddenly, she looks up and flashes you a knowing smile, “You didn’t confirm nor deny.”

Your mouth drops into a thin line, “I’m tired of you.”

Callie laughs, turning the arrangement so she could access the flowers closer to you. You drop the tiny white paper, paying it no mind after it leaves your grasp. The brunette opposite of you makes a questioning sound as the card makes it to her end of the island.

“Maybe this will lead us to your secret admirer.” she plays with the paper in her hand, flashing it to you before she opens it up. She clears her throat dramatically, “Hear ye, hear ye! Oh— it's just a phone number.” you quickly snatch the card back, its contents bare and boring.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

- E ;)

You easily recognize the chicken's scratch handwriting from one you've seen many times on ellies bar tabs. You scoff loudly once, and then a little louder again once Callie rudely grabs the note back.

“Shall we dial this mysterious ‘E’?” You give her a warning look, calling her name carefully.

“Don’t you dare!” you warn, but it falls on deaf ears. Callie already has your phone in hand, quickly punching in the numbers on the card. Her tongue pokes out in concentration, your anxiety building up like a volcano just waiting to erupt.

You did not need Callie calling Ellie, you had no idea what it would do for you, but you were sure it would ruin something, if not everything. Ellie was mature, older and wiser. She didn’t need your roommate prank–call her like you were teenagers.

You clicked leap out of your seat right before she pressed the call. You snatch the device from her hand and it hits the floor with a pang.

You both scrimmage to pick up the device, screen face down on the floor. You swear under your breath when you review the damage, the top half of your screen including the camera cracked to shit.

Callie shoots you a hyper apologetic look, rambling a string of sorry’s as she grabs at your broken phone. “Fuck! I’m so sorry!” she covers her mouth with her hand in disbelief. You can see the guilt wash over her instantaneously. You shake your head, immediately rushing to comfort her, rather than relish in the fact that your phone was broken and you could not afford to pay for it.

“Callie, it's okay, i promise. I'm not mad.” you place a comforting hand on her shoulder, her tank top strap now slipping down her arm. Callie pulls you in for a tight hug, promising to contribute to the payment of your new phone screen. You shush her, making it known that she doesn’t need to do that.

When you pull away, Callie sighs one last time, a deep yawn taking over her.

“Let’s get to bed, we can deal with this in the morning...” you yawn, taking her hand into your own. You take one last glance at the beaming bouquet before switching the light out and waddling to bed.

Callie bids you a quick goodnight, not sparing another second for anything else. You can tell she was already almost asleep when you got home but she was too curious about your secret lover to deny herself the opportunity to question you. You smile at your roommates previous state of regret, even if she was a so-called bad bitch on the outside, at heart she was a big softie.

You quickly wash your face and brush your teeth, taking note of your lack of moisturizer. You would need to replace that soon.

Phone screen repair - $200

New moisturizer - $49.99

You sigh again as you exit the bathroom, seemingly a common habit. The softness of your bed greeting you like no other, although you would like to shut your brain off and fall into the deep state of tranquility you so desperately needed, your mind denied you.

Soon, as you lie awake in your room, only the dark there to comfort you—your mind slips back to Ellie.

You quickly tug your newly broken device off the charger and set off for the kitchen, bare feet padding against the cold hardwood floors. You snatch the small paper quickly, it mocks you as you open it once again. You quickly tap the numbers into your contact list, fighting with your conscience not to call her and berate her. But it was too late for that. You should’ve waited till morning to text, or at least until you knew you would both be awake but turns out, fate did not have that in store.

Ellie ? |

What’s your problem? |

You can't find the words, you were already fighting sleep and did not have the energy to start up an argument, in case she did answer. So you settled for the classic,

???

And that was that, for now. You quickly discard the paper into the trash and tiptoe back to your room, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Ellie is a shell of the woman she once was. She was a coward. She had cheated on her wife a week ago and the regret hadn’t even hit yet. So, she did what she does best. She ran. She didn't show up at the bar the next day like she promised, unable to face you. Thursday was a blur, she didn't show up then, either.

Ellie was always stressed, it was a feeling she knew all too well, and learned to put up with. to grow with it. But right now—it was unbearable.

Dina was a parasite, clinging to her at every moment, but not out of love, she was watching. She was making sure not a drop of alcohol hit Ellie's tongue since she disappeared last Friday. Ellie couldn’t take it.

What was she to do? she sabotaged her only escape from this hellish experience. She got too greedy, too sure, and it was messy.

It was late when she received the text, no later than three. Her wife was working her mouth against Ellie's neck, a trail of love bites appearing against the left side of her neck. Dina's teeth lightly graze the supple skin, her hand working its way down, lower and lower.

Ding!

Ellie places a gentle hand against Dina’s waist, as she groans against her, muttering something along the lines of “Get it later”. But, Ellie knew. She had been watching the clock since the package was determined to be delivered at your place. She knew your hours, she waited for your reply with baited breath. Ellie grabs her wife by the neck, quickly smashing their lips together in a chaste kiss.

“Sorry, Baby. It could be important.” She lies through her teeth, something that's become a prominent part of her conversations with Dina. Some days she told more lies than she told truths. Her phone is plugged in on the bedside table, a sleek marble, clean and elegant. She reaches for it fully expecting a text from you, and lo and behold, she was greeted with just that. Three question marks from an unknown number, Ellie was sure it was you.

Dina scoffs as she sits up, eager to please. She throws her hair up, dark curls sitting comfortably in her bun.

Ellie chuckles at the text she's received, Dina raises an eyebrow. “Who is it?” She campaigns for answers, leaning forward to peek at the words on Ellie's device. Ellie brushes her off with the flick of a hand, quickly maneuvering off of the bed. Her feet carry her faster than her words of excuse can escape her mouth.

Dina is left confused, but not surprised. She figured it was just Joel or Jesse, but a quick glance at the clock proves that assumption false, so she quickly nabs her robe, covering her lingerie clad figure with practiced ease as she leaves the room, following close behind Ellie.

Ellie is no longer grinning at her phone when Dina enters the room. She now just looks bored, fingers refreshing the conversation over and over, hoping for a quick response. Ellie’s startled when Dina wrapped her arms around her midsection. She quickly shut her phone off, turning around to face her wife quickly. Ellie hopes to discard the topic, hoping her messy escapades would be forgotten by the woman. She hoped that Dina's lust would overtake her suspicions. But she knows her wife better than that.

“What was that about?” Dina asks, as presses her lips back to their previous spot on her neck. The older hickeys shone underneath the fluorescent kitchen light. Ellie brings her hands to the swell of Dina's ass, squeezing the fat like she's done time and time again.

“Just Joel, He’s gettin’ old, Havin’ trouble sleeping..” Her reply was slick, it wasn't exactly a lie, Joel was having trouble sleeping recently. Her excuse was polished. Dina hums into her neck, pulling her close by her pajama shirt. Ellie chuckles, ruffling Dina's robe. It slips off effortlessly, the emerald fabric adorning the pearl floors.

Dina moves her mouth to Ellie's own, their lips dance within each other, Ellie whimpers slowly against her wife’s mouth, Dina smirks, slapping at her shirt with grabby hands. Ellie quickly picks the woman up, sliding her onto the cold counter. The lock on their lips never broke, the wet noises filling the kitchen. Dina moans into Ellie’s mouth, eyebrows scrunched with focus.

Dina can tell that Ellie is fighting her distraction, working against her own conscience. Dina brings a hand to Ellie’s auburn locks. Their eyes interlock as Dina pulls her wife away, Ellie's hands squeezing Dina's thighs. “If you ever even think of cheating on me I will ruin you.” She whispers. Ellie nods, almost submissively.

“I wouldn't dare.” Ellie promises. Dina nods.

Dina was a lot of things. She was controlling, she was jealous, and she was determined. But Dina wasn't stupid. In fact, she was one of the smartest people Ellies ever met. Ellie knew she had to be careful, her mind was already made up. She needed you. She desired your warmth against her more than anything. So she had to be more than careful.

Ellie brings her mouth to the left of Dina's neck. the tan skin bruising under her lips. Ellie is quick to bring her fingers cloister to Dina’s sex, but Dina declines, grabbing ahold of her wrist. “Switch.” she murmurs into Ellie's mouth confidently. Ellie nods and helps Dina off the counter placing a hand on the small of her back as she guides Dina to the bedroom.

Ellie’s cunt was an altar and Dina was one hell of a sinner.

Dina gently kissed the inside of her wife’s thighs, the pale skin shaking beneath her. Ellie writhes, the feeling was too good to think about anything else. Except, her mind shifts. You plague her thoughts effortlessly, too easily. So much so that it became an inconvenience. Her gorgeous wife was between her thighs and yet all she could think of was you. You and your beaming doe eyes, your magnetic demeanour.

Ellie's hips buck as Dina's mouth begins working against her clit. “Dina..” Her voice is breathless, gasping for more; she pleads. She slips a hand into Dina’s hair, her loose bun cowering under Ellie's grasp.

Ellie's hips continue to dance under Dina's mouth, she moans into the darkness. The only source of light emitting the hallway shining through the crack of the door. Dina places a stabilizing hand on either side of Ellie’s thighs, holding her against the plush of the bed. “F-Fuck, Dina.. Dina!” Ellie's vision clouds, her wife eventually moving a single fixer to her pulsing hole. Ellie welcomes her with a short gasp.

“Doing so good f’me, El..” Dins whispers into her pussy. Ellie chases her high with maximum effort, her hips bucking into Dina's mouth whilst her hand pulls her by the hair. Dina eats Ellie out eagerly, her dominant facade slowly bleeding into her eagerness to please. Dina begins grinding her own wetness into the floor, she attempts to grind against the ball of her foot, but to no avail.

“Dina! I’m gonna cum!” Ellie screams, her wife continues to put her mouth to work. Dina nods, slipping a second finger into Ellie's sopping cunt.

“Let go for me..” Dina hums. Ellie's body locks up, her cunt fluttering around her wife’s fingers. Her high pitched whimpers herald her orgasm, pearly white cum coating Dina's mouth and fingers. Ellie detangles her hand from Dina's brown curls, gently soothing the area with a more gentle approach.

Dina crawls up the bed, her lips quickly making contact with Ellie’s own. Ellie's blissful demeanour makes Dina giggle. As she gently pecks against her wife’s lips, Ellie’s conscience shifts once again.

Dina strips of her lace and cuddles up against her. The sweat of their skin connects them indefinitely. Ellie’s thoughts prevail — she debates checking her phone for your response but she doesn't. instead focusing on the woman cuddled against her. The feeling of waiting for your response or being anxious to see you at the bar had Ellie like a teenager, and she was quite a fan of the reckless feeling.

“I love you.” The auburnette whispers into the darkness, she's unsure of who she's talking to but Dina’s already sleeping.

When Ellie was young, the words “I Love You” were uncommon. She never had a mother to nurture her, or a father to punish her. Her first placement didn't have her long enough to develop anything other than resentment for the curious child, and her last was far too neglectful to even notice her.

She spent her early days in the humiliating grasp of foster care. The awful case workers and the nights spent in cold, unloving homes made up her entire childhood. Throughout her few years in the system, Ellie had one friend.

Riley Abel was a few years older than Ellie. Her dark skin and confident voice caught Ellie by surprise, she was in love. She had Riley through all of the abuse. Every panic attack, every bruise, every court date, it was Riley through and through.

Riley meant everything to Ellie, she was the only stable thing in her life, the only person she could go to for comfort, or anything. They did everything together, sneaking out of their shitty placements, getting drunk in the park late at night. They were inseparable.

Riley was Ellie's first kiss. One night, after getting shitfaced in the basement of Riley's current home, Riley climbed on top of her. The music in the background was loud, but Ellie's thoughts were louder. Riley was older, more experienced. Ellie was awkward and shy and had very clearly never been kissed. It was a dream, Riley was the first girl Ellie had ever loved. She was ecstatic.

The first person to ever tell Ellie that they loved her was Riley. Then she was snatched right out from underneath her. Riley was always considered troubled, the adults around them called her a lost cause, told her she was going nowhere. But Riley always prevailed. She promised Ellie that once she aged out of the system that they would run away together. But that day never came.

Riley was Ellie's first love and her first loss.

When Riley passed, Ellie was lost. She had no one.

Then, at fourteen years old Ellie was adopted by Joel. A gruff and grumpy man who came from Wyoming as a favour to Marlene. Ellie quickly learned that affection was scarce, but the love was there. It just wasn't something Joel verbalized to her.

The girl eventually grew comfortable with her place in Joel's home, His family became hers under the premise that she would succeed. Ellie Williams went from a lone, grief ridden child to someone destined for greatness in the matter of weeks.. She was a model student, a child anyone would want to call their own, but she still felt like less than.

She was 16 when she met Dina and Jesse. The loud couple welcomed her almost immediately after they met. The love she felt for Dina couldn’t compare to what she felt for Riley, but the serotonin of it all was too good to ignore.

Ellie and Dina's marriage was built on nothing but love, Ellie was sure of it. It wasn't the guilt of taking Dina from her bestfriend, or the lack of love she received as a child; it was pure, innocent and simply not working.

But with you? you two were like fire.

and the flame was only getting bigger.

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