s-4pphics - Tumblr blog

s-4pphics · 20 hours

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about a girl ⭑┆ e.w

sending nudes to your brothers best friend, deliberately.

—an; tbh this was supposed to be a drabble but now it's looking more short-form oneshot kms. first long fic in a while though!

—summary; possibly bored, maybe high, unmistakably horny— what could be more fun than sending a nude to your brothers best friend? you know, the girl that couldn't for the life of her be discreet about her nerve-wracking crush on you that sends her into a fluster whenever you breathe the same air? yeah. that girl. —content; 18+, bbf!ellie x reader, sub!ellie, clit stim (e!receiving), breast fondling (r!receiving), biting, implied next time, ellie is the biggest loser in town, she goes between being nervous and needy tbh, possible weed usage implied, purple texts = reader, green texts = ellie, petnames used: baby, no usage of y/n! (lmk if i missed anything!)

★ WC; 3.2k+ ★ DON'T BUY TLOU ★ PALESTINE MASTERPOST ★ MASTERLIST ★ proofread by @trackinglessons + @stars-for-circe !!

It fucks with her.

You know it does.

"Has to be a mistake," convinced by a heart-pounding whelm, Ellie is fiercely sure that the photo of a pair of tits spilling over the lunate neck of the tank you're fitted in today, and pouring from the rucked up sports bra— was a missend. That the reality where you like her, want her, and feel comfortable enough to send a nude to her is some farcical fantasy.

A big fat mistake.

Bolts of saliva shred her throat by the breath, a weak attempt at regulating the thirst her organs shrill for, "Shit, Ellie— fuck do I do?" even naming herself aloud in a hiss like the blame lands upon her slouched shoulders. The only lucky thing is that your brother excused himself to the kitchen prior, sanctioning her the space to squeak her frets, panic, run red at the cheeks, and beg it all into a dream.

A dream that realistically, she does want. The flustered fail to fathom out.

Unlucky thing being, he will return— and the hot strain tugging below her waistband.. won't excuse itself. For the entire weekend; the whole sleepover.

She's weak-kneed and tenacious about exiting your brother's room for answers. Craven to seek you out, set her eyes face-to-face with every onlooking oak vein on your bedroom door, and stutter her way into some highly awkward, gulpy tête-à-tête on why you should double-check the name of the contact you plan on sextscaring with fully bare, Louvre-worthy breasts that her damn brain just can't ignore the screen glow of in her peripherals. Thinking maybe— just maybe, she should double-scan for its legitimacy in case her mind had played a dirty trick on her one more—

Fuck.

You're horndog-brained, Williams. You've got a scandalous crush on your best friend's sister, Ellie.

Face it.

She can't. "Fuck my life." not when the implanted flash of you tangs sweeter than the physical copy bright on her phone. This one, she can play with. This rendition of you— meshed with the matter of imagination, meant to send those nudes to her.

Meant to flank her foot featherly with yours during past movie nights. Meant to impress her with your player-versus-player prowess those rare witching-houred nights, cupping your mouth and going, "Suck my diiick!" in loud alto hollers. Meant to tackle and straddle her that one odd day you three actually mucked knees up outside for a game of family (plus friend) football. That hour— a juncture that changed her brain chemistry. Finches wallowed, the sun whisked, everyday naturalness continued as it always has. Disrupting the nature of no person. Yet there you were, tightening your calves on her hips while giving her the literal talkdown about being wary of her surroundings while running with the damned ball— if she doesn't want to end up in this pretty predicament a second time 'round and burst her heart to abundant bits.

Ellie had been disrupted from sleep that night. All night— hands in her pants.

Bad-dog yearning. Guilt accumulates under her guts for even taking notice of her crush for you. For rubbing her clit with your name. For purposefully sitting chairs away from you at the dining room table in composure-saving abstinence. For apologizing the very next day and culling you in for embrace, lading her empty nasal cavity with you. Only peeling away with an even bigger void that wasn't lined with your scent, or your orchids, or your drug.

Only dearth, and mock, and facts served unappetizingly. The fact that she can't see you every night.

That she couldn't see you that night.

It doesn't aid, though, that she playfully nudges your foot back with hers in sincerity. It doesn't help that she gives you these screwed expressions of dramatic pseudo-offense and starts blushing like an idiot when you shit on her shooting skills. And it certainly does not help that you like her too.

And can read minds through rows of drywall.

"come to my room?"

A scarily timed text. Her heart nearly plummets to the nauseous pit of her gut, and aches when she hesitantly scrolls the notification tab down with her thumb.

She panic-whispers, "Fuck fuck fuck," consumed by the endless possibilities on why you would've asked.

Ellie grinds her teeth over the idea, strung across the indecision of going, or staying. Text you back— call you, question you, maybe? With her brain buzzing like a beehive and no intelligible plan emerging from that hubbub, it leaves her with scraps for choices in spite of her dependency on some saving grace.

"outside ur door rn"

"sorry that sounds creepy"

"don't want him hearing lol"

A pang of nerves strikes at her sternum when your doorknob begins to turn, slowly paced, like this whole sneak-meet quandary has to be secretive; the immediate assumption being that you two would be judged for it. She slips inside your room, thoughtless, spotless, her mind slyly shimmying a cold shoulder towards the fact that she did see your nudes. That maybe you did mean to send them to her, considering you prompted her to come— oh-so spotless, oh-so thoughtless; subterfuge at play. Pretending your purposes didn't lie bare in that damn photo. In that damned text.

But aren't you just lucky that her focus is halfway split between your voice and a thousand faerie-sized ones to grasp any traces or be brave about things, huh?

"Hey." croaks whisperingly out of her, hands stuffed in the pockets of her navy running shorts. The pair fondly worn; lint-littered.

Quirking one brow, "Hey weirdo," you greet, just as quietly as she, just as nonchalant, but spare not a handy huff else for her anxiety to loosen up on. Nothing long off the mark from vanilla chit-chat, "My brother ditch you again?" casually heeling the door shut.

Not like she would— could— spare a husk of help either, her reasoning was just comparatively more vulnerable and humiliating to even broom a thought over. Softly, a prefacing sigh sets up her answer, "Yeah," piling her mouth with unneeded context, "Somethin' that's taken him like thirty minutes now— I don't know, he didn't say. We won a few games, then he just dipped. Probably making some kind of fucked up, five-course victory dinner, hmhm." chuckling dry. The nervous rambler type.

Ellie rambling her breath away is something she's given to, and you, seasoned to. Ears well-kept and ready to lend a listen.

"Mhm," a simple hum, you sung, and a spin of your heel turns you the other way, sweeping her long-drawn (and definitely not a symptom of her flared nerves) explanation aside.

Your bedroom swells with her stare, everything up for her interpretation. Were you bored? The surface of your bedding steers clear of any sort of scattered activity, not even coursework. Were you high? The remnant of a plastic baggie Ellie had gifted you from whenever ago lays shimmering under your handed-down, thrifted bedside lamp. Were you horny? Ad hoc question— she just assumes based on the— yeah.

Contain your brain, Ellie.

"Music?" you ask.

"Sure."

Reaching for the oaken cubby of CDs nestled together like dentist-model teeth, you pluck a specific one. As a silent homage to her rambling, "My room, my choice. Welcome to the party, Kurt." you mumble stupid somethings, and pop the lid off a one-album disc— Bleach, Nirvana— distinctly recalled to be one of Ellie's choice favorites that you claim to be a motive of your preference, pressing the radio drive inward to insert.

Nah, you're just being thoughtful— or setting the mood.

A shiver crawls under her skin, a sensation induced by the sweet beckoning whisper of her name, "C'mere, Ellie." then, your palms cull her clammy ones, and you guide her to your visibly slept-in, dim-lit bed, not a breath escaping your lips before you pivot fast and plop on the edge. Beckoning her aside with an outstretched arm, she joins you; one leg tucked under her butt, per the uncomfortable usual— and you both finally lay your awaited gazes on each other. Grassy rings of April, thinner and thinner, peering and peering, her heart coldly nervous, and banging too loudly to hear her own inhalations— until she breaks the silence contest a few seconds in, disturbed by the obvious. And the fact that her puffed up clit was threatening to rub against her panties with each anxious jostle her hips gave, was not fucking helpful at all.

Ignorance was bliss, and then it became an aching blister to bear. Ouch.

"What are we?" she presses for clarity. A contort pinches her brows, and she shies her eyes downward, inattentively absorbed by the black phone screen in her free hand, "Do you.. genuinely like me?" she really just can't look you in the eye— or doesn't want to accidently full-eye your chest. Either or, it's synonymous. "Cause if this is.. just.."

"Just?"

Reluctantly, the choices of words sail past her throat, but hardly her teeth, "Just.." folding under that implicit pressure. A trusty chuckle— while bated against the acoustic cries of Nirvana— leads her into dropping the cherry atop her answer. Retracing her pupils to your gaze unmoved and sighing audibly to unlade her shoulders, she fishes out the words. To confront you all in all. "Teasing me? Fucking with me? Flirting? I don't— I dunno' how to word this," another dry laugh to add insult to injury, shimmying like she wanted to spring out of her skin, "Did you mean to—"

"Hehe, d'you want me to tease you, Ellie?" a satiny whisper from you intrudes, eyeing her, wanton of the girl you see— to be in the keen cleft of your teeth.

It was glaringly obvious that her inbound words were related to your little photo porn sesh she won the sanction of seeing; ruddy as a rose in fertile spring. But dismissing that reality was a whole lot more..

Thrilling.

"Huh?" and her eyes wear this gloss as she hums so, cast by the lamp pale-lit beyond your shoulder. Knits the skin dividing her brows together, drawing all sorts of muddled lines in her forehead— cute confusions suit her well.

"Let me show you, then I'll ask again."

Fuck.

Plus, the reaction written across her features relaid desire and less so worries. She just couldn't get out of her own damn way. Or she found herself intimidated, you think. Those big, dumb eyes of a hazel-haired girl drowned in your audacity, dull-shining eyelids retreated back to make sure the words her ears pick up are truly fleeing your lips, or if her mind was playing the fool twice over.

Adorable, though, that she twiddles both thumbs like she has to twiddle over the texture of your answer; consider what's about to happen. If it'll turn volatile or fall anticlimactically. Will she burst into more abundant bits— or will she suck you up and reciprocate reckless abandon?

Either way, she trusts you.

Lessening into a fragile sough, "Right here," your fingers enclose her limp left wrist and handles it upright. Unbends the joint and hooks over the weathered webbing of her thumb, cupping her palm to your right, cotton-covered breast.

"Oh," she shudders, forming a loose oval with her strawberry lips.

"Touch me here."

From that oval blossomed a puppy-eyed regard, uncertain about whether she should withdraw her hand out of respect or phase into your move by inviting her other mitt to your opposing breast, hesitating her head faceward to glean if your eyes illustrate the choice for her. But you shadow a palm over her knuckles and squeeze— cram the fat of your tit in her calloused warmth, and she melts. Melts into a face worth a moan, melts into her reflexes.

"Something tells me I don't have to ask you again."

"Tchh— shut up."

Snappy. Ellie gets snappy when confronted with a truer-than-the-sky-being-blue fact or some smart-assed innuendo, notably comments that concern the juicy anatomy of her fat, fated and violently gay crush on you. Spur your tongue enough, and you'll force hers; she'll let the profane tendencies of hers unravel a name-call or two. Softly-spoken and ever so content-looking, dimples carving if you take her meaning just as lighthearted as she meant it. Ellie is the only girl in this wide and woeful world who could loathe your mouth— the things spilling out of it, and still look at it like she wants to be inside it. To shove profanities beyond it.

And since the moment has dawned; a cara cara sunset depthening what she can lift off her mind, "You knew what you were doing," she decides to be a bit cheeky about the topic at hand, "You are fucking with me." taking up the self-imposed offer to route her free hand over, filling two gropes.

God, and she does that head tilt thing. Nosing your space with a dope-lidded gaze that purrs: "Fuck me, instead?" weighing into the sliver of teeth she beams. Total reform of behavior.

"In what way?"

Her eyes roll, "Knew you were gonna fuckin' say th—"

"Come on. Tell me, baby, hmm?"

Two can play at that game.

You bring your nose in, inviting the notes lingering under her jaw to coat your senses; sudor, worn linens, sex— anticipated sex. You can smell the long for it on her body; natural pheromones that pooled when you sent that nude. Invisible vapors dating back to when you two first met.

Muscles beneath the wrap of her throat draw, taking in an amused swallow. And she opens up her neck— just for you, extending the area your lips can explore. Eyes swiping firsts, they peer at every nicety, and ruminate about every bare inch. Wonder how her freckled skin tastes— how her freckled skin feels. Does every sunspot hold a different sweetness? Saltiness? Will it taste as cinnamony as its likeness? No clue, no mind; you're thinking with your tongue and teeth, licking the panel of them exactly how you yen to lick the perch of her collarbone.

Her reply kick-starts in the tips of her digits, tamping your boobs in individual, synced rolls. Then it travels up in a hitch of breath, in a contemplative pinch of brow, "Cause you.. like me?" her words a rebound to topics past their prime, immediately eating her words back in a regretful head-shake. "God, I don't fucking know—"

Smothered along her tee's neckline you peeled back to expose the wispy skin in hiding, you whisper, "What do you think?" in an evasive ploy to get her to confront her own feelings, driving her tongue further. Yet, in contrast, your own spit-lined muscle slips from its hot grotto and wets the peak of her collarbone once, empowering your hunger for flesh to just— bite after.

"Fuck," she rough curses, and rows her shoulders into your mouth reactively. Hands minding your teeth and the sting given contra to what is held in them, they fall sharply to your waist and scratch at your sides, carving a haiku of lines with three digits. "Seriously? Gonna play this game?"

"What game?" speaking through a second bite, you iron curiosity into the mark.

"You're not answering my question!" Ellie giggles, high-pitched and croaky in the warmth reserved behind your ear. Words strangled in hysterics, you miss to recognize the beginnings of her sentences— the other raspy, less laughy half, "You're biting me, n' kissing me.." intrigues you regardless of the context, anyways. Not when her fingers trickle up your shirt. Accident, or no accident.

Lips stick together and paste above your previous tooth marks, "Mhm?" humming all thick. "I've always wanted to.."

"Oh?"

"Mhm.."

"Okay~" surprise drips from her tone— but, off the record, her undertone reeked of appetite. Excitement. That's all you needed to hear; all you ache to focus on. "I mean, me too? But does that mean you— ah.."

A bite thrice— and she's out of her mind. Maybe literally. Swanning idle fingertips up your ribcage, blooming them outwards, caving her palm in to feel it expand against the pressure, carefully testing the waters by your underboob. Commits a dreams act, now fiercely sure that your ministrations meant more than just bepainting her upper-torso in a splatter of roses and violet petunias.

That it means more than just streaming flat-palmed touches up her thighs. Means more than pressing for her heaven spot at the center of her thighs because she's clamping the sides of your ribs and soundlessly whining for it under your lobe, "He probably thinks I'm in the bathroom or something. Come on, won't last longer than a minute." discarding the loom of ticking time from her mind's clock. Means more than sinking her own teeth into your lobe when you finally shove her waistband open— just barely, and handle the beady, beating and bloated button in tapered circles, muttering "This answer your question?" delicately, to which, she chokes out, "Y-Yeah." and it has you drifting your head away to watch her unravel. Eggs you to faster flicks. The type that flex your hands and flexes her brows, itching that staved knot at the back of her walls, cinched around nothing. Wet around everything.

"Fuuckk," a legato groan fills her mouth. "Just how I like i-it— fuck baby.." and fills your skull, also satisfied by the feel of her folds smoothly hugging your top knuckles. By the increase of slick coating her slit from when you first dove your fist, to now. Rubbing and patting that heat down. Telling her pussy just how lucky it should feel.

Eliciting twitches and humps you beam a subtle eyetooth and coo to, "Gonna come?" sounding condescending, because you yourself lack the need of an answer; you already feel the anticipation, the wanting, the opinion that the sensations of having your hands down her pants, is better than she could have ever wrought herself. Pulsing at the pleasure points, pleasured at the sound points.

Apart from the sticky noises under her beltline— and Nirvana, Ellie is vocally eager to praise and vouch for how good you're making her cunt feel, "Uh-huh, uh-huhh.." cordial nods all around. Manifold factors heighten that ecstasy— but they're all just thoughts surrounding you. Where this will take both of you, how this won't linger off her mind the whole sleepover, questioning when you might fuck her next. And— sometimes, when she folds into the darkest, dirtiest backwoods of her delusions at the dead of night, she'll think about her unused strap and whether or not you'll take her when she wears it.

Ruminating on it now definitely helped; took a chokehold on her clit when her eyes dared to roll back and visualize the day when you bounce and grind and stretch your pussy wide on her—

"Fuck fuck fuck," she frantic-moans, hit by an abrupt wave of climax.

Except, she never knows when 'fuck her next' will happen. And she definitely won't seek you out, to find out. Not yet. No way.

"Good girl," so fucking beautiful when she cums: flushed and shiny as an apple, shutting lids to your rhythm. "Right on my hand, there you go," you encourage her, and tuck the slack hairs dangling from her hairline to watch the earthly freckles on her face congregate as it all tugs to her nose.

So grabby, too. Squeezing your tits together over the thin nylon of your bra, madly pushing, madly maledicting your bra for being in her way. Her thumbs brush your hardened nipples, headbutting her face into your chest while she rides her filthy slick all over your fingers.

Ellie presses a long, open-mouthed kiss to the slope of your chest, and warrants the rest of her delighted breath to fix there, "Hngh, oh fuck— oh fuck," thrusting into a half-kneel, inner-thigh muscles clenching in on your hand.

Maybe she'll wait for another text message.

"Such a fucking mess, Williams."

Who knows.

perm taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @slynxs @maleelee @littlegingerperson5 @seraphicsentences

fic taglist; @boobdrug @lawofblla @darkerstarsstuff @alexhhr

[lmk if you'd like to be added to my perm taglist!]

#TITS OUT FOR AESTRA!!!!!!!!!#eyetwitcheyetwitcheyetwitch #favs ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 . . . ♡

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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Source: haya.orouq on TikTok

Her family's GoFundMe is linked below! We are almost at $17k as of me writing this and need minimum $23500 to evacuate them all asap before the Rafah offensive and potential indefinite border closure that could occur any time now.

Even if you can't donate, PLEASE share this as widely as possible! Any words of support for Haya and her family in the tags or notes will be passed along to her! Thank you so much everyone. FREE PALESTINE!!! ❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸❤️🇵🇸

GOFUNDME

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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Israeli bombing near the displaced persons' tents

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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🇵🇸🇺🇸 In an interview in the early 1980s, the legendary Palestinian Columbia University Professor Edward Said expressed his pride in his campus. Today, he would likely be even prouder of the strides made.

🇵🇸🇺🇸 في مقابلة أجريت معه في أوائل الثمانينات، أعرب الأستاذ الفلسطيني الأسطوري في جامعة كولومبيا إدوارد سعيد عن اعتزازه بحرمه الجامعي. واليوم، من المرجح أن يكون أكثر فخراً بالخطوات التي حققها.

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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Hello, I want you to help me. My family is in danger. I saw you helping people.

Please I don't know anyone who can publish for us and share our story I saw you by chance Please share my story on your profile and tell people about it Family consists of 7 members and we are now in Gaza we can't get out Please help us post our link gofund.me/7489c83c

Thank you so much for reaching out.

To everyone else, another legit GoFundMe to support!

Ahmad's family is raising funds to leave Gaza and they have not raised nearly enough funds to leave. This family urgently needs help. They are only at €1,172 out of €70,000!!

Please donate and share!

(ID in Alt)

The Turk family is stuck in Gaza under threat of bombardment as well as sickness and famine. Their lives and their home were stripped away from them by the occupation. Any help you can give would go a long way.

You can check in with Ahmad on his tumblr @ahmadturk00 and twitter @/ahmadturk_

Aseel Al Turk also frequently posts updates on the situation on her twitter @/aseelalturkk .

Below is a video of Aseel describing the Turk family's situation as well:

youtube

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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A PALESTINIAN CITIZEN AND HIS DOG FROM GAZA RAISES THE VICTORY SIGN FROM INSIDE HIS DESTROYED HOME.

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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a lot of the coverage of the Palestinian genocide is focusing on the US student protests and the narrative is constantly in danger of shifting away from what the protests are actually about and a lot of the language is now speaking in terms of police brutality, silencing of free speech, etc. It's not a radical thing to say that this isn't exactly helpful to the Palestinian cause if the actual reasons for the protests aren't constantly front and center. A lot of people have already made this point. I do not think the genie can necessarily be put back in the bottle with how the protests and the police reaction to them are entering the public consciousness of the USian people. A lot of people are or will become aware of these protests through the lense of these simply being instances of police brutality, and police brutality is a critical issue that many USamericans are very passionate about thus making it difficult to reframe the context of these images of police slamming white professors into pavement towards awareness of Israels decades long illegal occupation and systematic and indiscriminate displacement and murder of Palestinians. What I feel needs to be done is try to reframe these images flooding the internet not *away* from issues of police brutality and homesoil fascism, but in the wider context of imperialist governments taking the lessons they learn oppressing "foreign peoples" and turning them inwards. That police brutality is not disconnected from imperialist mass murder. That the one thing connecting the assaulted USian protester and the trans israeli denied gender affirming care for refusing to serve in the fascist Israeli military and the Palestinian child buried alive for the crime of being Palestinian... the one thing connecting them is that, sooner or later, they are all victims of power. Our rights are granted to us inequitably, unevenly, and are just as quickly stripped away when we do not serve the interests of fascist power. We are either a tool of the state or an enemy of the state. The Palestinian, not the innocent or the guilty but the human being Palestinian, is murdered because she can not be useful to the state while she is still breathing. She can never have the "privilege" of being a tool. I'll say it again: We outside of Palestine who can go to protests, who have families, who are able bodied, who can work, who can keep their head down or speak without immediate retaliation have the "honor" of choosing to be a tool of the state or an enemy of the state. The Palestinian has no choice.

There will always be an armed cop ready to arrest you and kill your brother as long as there is a bomb ready to drop on the heads of Palestinian children. Fascism trickles up and inward.

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s-4pphics · 22 hours

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moth. (e.w.)

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, suicide, religion briefly, cult-ish bindings, ellie's coven is so cunt, mentions of witchcraft, future tags: hypnosis, abducting, crazy smut

teaser.

1927

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest.

The cycle formed over the last decade has revolutionized you. It is all you know; the only remainder of solace you have in this dastard domain. The older you've grown, the more burials you attend. For strangers, for comrades. For children who have been brutalized and left to rot like swine. All enacted by the Devils that lurk in darkness. Radicalization overcame your senses; first writhed beneath your bones at the age of thirteen when intent to kill the Earth’s torturers flourished within you. Welcomed your stout standing with an offered, sharply angled wood. You have read. You have fought. You have been scarred and beaten bloody by the Overseers; suffered numerous nights of unrest due to the wails of your comrades under their scrutiny.

Another burial, another Overseer. A prime Hunter that controls your underground dominion, trapped trenches below civilization that beam with only candlelight and the creeping rays of the flaming sun.

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.

The lines you march alongside your comrades are congruous; heads covered with black hoods, dozens of silver-soled heels echoing against the tunnel walls. Not one Hunter out of place. Gruesome symmetry. The narrow halls of the tunnel spread into a perfect sphere near its end. Hunters due their promotion disperse along the widening space, encircling the flaming Crest in the center of the chamber. Both rows of teeth are inseparable; a dull ache in your jaw.

Your heartbeat is reminiscent of drums. Each step is calculated. A second of delay, and… your brain cannot fathom the consequences.

Rows of comrades enclose and tighten, standing strong before the risen floors where the Overseers inspect their battalion, hoods removed and insignia burning through their black capes. You sneak glances at them despite the rules of a downcast gaze in their presence; no longer than a second. Their years of battle have overtaken their appearance; gray drapes of wool that cascade their shoulders, creases by the eyes and mouth, hands that tremor.

“Rise.”

Necks crane until straightened. Palms raise for the Uncovering, hoods pushed until they lay flat at the peak of spines. The first time your heads have seen the unnatural light of the underground. Your Overseer from your recruitment has been replaced with anew; woman, tall and eyes as kind as a doe, but just as ruthless, just as conniving as he. Her lips spread around her white teeth, somehow more venomous than the ghouls that taunt the lands.

“Welcome to the commencement of our Prodigies.”

Despite you being only three rows from the raised platform, the Overseer sounds miles away. The rushing in your ears; the thumping in your chest is intruding.

“You are all here to be recognized for your efforts. You should be proud of choosing the path of righteousness. Your dedication does not go unnoticed, and today marks the finality of your attainment.”

“We bless you all with our thanks. For this night embarks society’s next generation of Hunters. You have all accepted your duty as a protector. A leader. A virtuous soldier for our Lord.”

“The battle against Demons will be unkind… Many will be lost, but after years of sacrifice, use this night as a celebration of your bravery…”

Silence. Then a seized breath. Faulting from an Overseer is unforeseen.

“It may be your last chance to witness a night of peace… Of unity.”

Her sudden somber timbre jostles your comrades, backs stiffened under their cloaks. Empathy: considered a display of weakness from your leaders.

The winds of the tunnel shifted, aimed to suffocate.

“Live as kings for this last night. Eat, drink… dance if you must. Because come dawn, you will abandon comfort, and return to the higher lands where anguish awaits.”

One overseer, the man closest to the orator, extends a black, velvet pillow to her. A silver chain dangles from her wrinkled hands; a Hunters pendant, bordering a lit flame.

“As the world’s Hunters, you will be honored with our sanctuary’s Crest. This will be your protection against the Lustful… They have demonstrated a great deal of power as they develop… Their spread is alarming… To even us.”

“Do not fall victim to their allure. Their only desire is our demise. Deceit is their only weapon… But it will never compare to the light in your hearts.”

Rumors have spread through the training grounds; ones of Hunters, Overseers, being blinded by their darkest desires. Controlled by the Devil’s knights to turn against each other. Entranced by pleasure, by riches. By immortality. Their desperation of becoming the rulers of society, tyrants of the land, past the seas… Brought them to their end. Many believed they were created to birth disarray — distrust between comrades. You, still, are not sure what to believe.

“… All of your souls are blessed… Even in death.”

Your palm rests over your pounding heart in oath recitation, promising to die for the cause of freedom. For humanity. The remainder of the ceremony hazes as cloaked patrons emerge from the depths of the cave as the Overseers disperse, dressing prideful Hunters with their pendants. They hang perfectly at the center of the sternum, the flames roaring the closer it lays to the heart.

Your eyes do not wither from the ground, even with the silver shoes before you that penetrate the dirt. An Overseer is not often chosen to promote a Hunter, but she — the orator — blesses you. The heft of your pendant weighs heavy on your shoulders. You sigh a breath of relief at the glow behind metal.

“Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.” You say, dismissing your shock with a hand on your chest.

“Guarded, you are…”

Her declaration is barely a whisper. She pauses, trembling pupils entangled with the glow of your chain, hypnotized by its glimmer.

“Child.”

You remain indifferent at her condemnation, against the gulp from your throat. She inspects your stance with the strength of a stalking lion before vanishing, cape gusting up dryness from below.

“Someone’s special.”

A hushed snark airs from behind you. Made to be a laughingstock for your comrades once again. But you are not 13. All naivety has been torn from your consciousness, and your vacancies are filled with revenge.

The cave, for the first time since your recruitment, is undisciplined. Bass from the celebratory drums. Laughter… Laughter from your comrades, Overseers, patrons you recall from passing as they cheers with the finest wine. Intimidation and constraint are no longer. And still, you take no part in true fellowship. Jollity is forbidden. Leisure is forbidden. Benevolence is forbidden. You, and others amongst —children— were trained to hunt. To slain those who left the world in shatters. A morphed weapon of justice.

A laid hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, left frozen when you're met with the orator from the commencement.

Come, she whispers, and you follow her path through the tunnels of the cave. She retrieves a lantern from the cavity floors and leads you to its corners, deep and untouched. Never once have you seen an Overseer smile, but she is. A pitiful one.

“Why do you worry, Child?”

“I do not worry,” You bite more than needed, “And I am not a child.”

She takes no offense, “Pardon me. Why do you worry, Hunter?” Her tone is mocking, and your blood churns.

One slip of tongue could earn a blade in your chest. You self-soothe with the foggy air expanding in your lungs. Your agitation calms, only briefly.

“I do not worry,” Easier on the ears, “I am believed to be more than prepared—“

“There is no preparation against the Devils.” The hiss of a viper, her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction of your attitude. Your brows pinch.

“Why have you brought me here?”

Her chest rises and falls and her hands interlock.

“Do you know your history, Hunter?”

“It is all I’ve ever known, Master.” You retort with similar irreverence.

“Not the history of the Devils, you imbecile. You. Do you know of your lineage?”

Your head rattles, “Surely not… A-All outside knowledge of history is forbidden. That is all we’ve ever been taught—“

“Shame on your mother for leaving you useless.”

Her slander resonates through the tunnel and your conscience dissolves. The blade you always wield in your sheath presses against the throat of your superior, indented around the aged skin.

“I did not follow you to be defamed,” You rebuke with bared teeth, “Do not speak of my mother.”

“What spirit…” Others would not blink twice at the mention of their family, dead or alive.

“The Devils starve, Child.” She whispers.

“What.”

“They starve… Desperation grows within them as they migrate. They kill anything they can.” Distress grows in her face as she blathers. “Black magic. I have seen its bounds before my eyes. They have tormented and feasted on the blood of your ancestors! The controller of all Devils… She waits to enslave the last of your name—“

“I HAVE NO NAME!”

Why must she lie? Why are you only hearing of this now? She lies. A shout that cracks through the underground.

“Your lineage is most susceptible to the curse! You…”

Tears hang from your lashes before splintering your cheeks. Panic-struck heaves hit your leader’s, her flyways brushing with

“They’ll torture you, Child.”

Sympathy. Survival. There is no difference.

“What does it matter?” You whisper painfully, and your blade drops to your side, weeps unmasked. “So many have died before me. I-I do—“

“Your mother was one of us.”

Her wails are quiet and urgent.

“Ask… pray for her guidance.”

“Mas—“

The Overseer advantages the weakness of your wrist; snags your blade from between your fingertips and glides the edge across her jugular, maroon coating her hands as she chokes on her own blood, her eyes glazing as she slides down the wall. You holler, knees weakening when her gargling form collapses into your arms. Life drains from her eyes with every exclamation you throw to the Heavens. You shout for help, but the depths are too narrow.

No one comes.

You, by the grace of your Lord, somehow managed to flee the concaves without being spotted by your commune, cloak submerged in blood that is masked by its darkness. Anxiety forged in the pit of your stomach; unable to return to your base for the last peaceful rest, you ran. You cowered. Just when you believed it was out of your nature.

An Overseer committed suicide, and you were the only witness.

You went to your chambers after the accident—warning? — stuffed what you could into your satchel, and escaped the iron gates of your former home. Scaled them like a rabid hyena until your bandaged soles combined with tall greenery. The scene of never-ending land doesn’t ease your nerves, but you sprint until your lungs burn and your legs give out.

Your path is blind, but your end is near.

All fingers point at you.

The greatest form of betrayal.

The lifeblood of the wealthy always curdles: from concealed shame. From ego. From both; It always leaves a sour film over her tongue. Despairing times. The rosewood floors are bathed in red as the last breaths of her victim shake through her bedroom. A beautiful one, she was; dressed in skirts and stockings that ripped at the lightest touch.

Blood drips down from Ellie’s mouth to the collar of her unbuttoned shirt, stains seeping into the crew of her undershirt. Barely any effort was needed to lure them all in. Desperation makes obscenity much sweeter.

A knock erupts from the other side of her door before a sugary utterance echoes, “May I come in?”

Ellie scoffs at the pester.

“You may…” She replies.

The door opens, and she’s met with soft eyes twinkling with brown and burgundy.

Her brow arches, “Not.” She concludes.

The brown-haired girl squints playfully and shuts the door behind her, “Hush, now,” Her strides are strong and assertive, puddles of red soaking the bottom of her heels.

“Quite the mess,” she mutters at the scene with an upturned nose, “It smells.”

“Who am I to complain?”

“The only one that complains,” Her soft hands land on Ellie’s shoulders, and she sighs, taking in the worn appearance of her partner: under eyes darkened and sunk in, dry lips, voice hoarse.

“I bare news.” Dina whispers.

Ellie curls a tweel of black hair around her finger, “Hm?”

Dina leans in close, arms locking around the back of her lover’s neck, lips brushing Ellie’s ear.

“Our little flower is on the loose.”

Ellie’s body locks, and pressure grows in her fangs. “Liar.” She gasps.

“Nuh uh,” A kiss is planted to the corner of her stained mouth, “Word is she’s fled the sanctuary. Searches are apparently ongoing.”

“Where.” Ellie presses.

“Not sure… I came to ask if we should plan for her… arrival while the ladies are away.” Dina suggests with a conniving smirk.

Ellie’s lips curl dangerously around her sharp teeth, a blinding white. She lifts her darling off the ground, spinning her in celebration as she squeals, droplets of evidence seeping deeper into the floorboards.

“Absolutely.”

wittle taglist :3 HIII DEAR: @elliewilliamsblunt

#meekmook

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s-4pphics · 23 hours

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PART 2 OF A FRIEND IN NEED PELASE PELASE PLEASE PLESDE

OKAYAOAJYAAOKTAAOJTA

#nonnies ✄┈┈ ˚

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sike who’s horny

meep

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meep

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don’t know if you’re still doing requests but… finding out that sub!ellie likes to be choked while y’all are scissoring hhhnng oh my god

choking ellie choking ellie choking elliechokingelelicukcholcjgelleie

ellie either gets choked or does the choking in everything i’ve ever written and it’s for a reason it’s because i wanna be strangled….

idk i feel ellie finding out she secretly loves being choked would be goofy as shit. like she does something to irritate her partner and they playfully say “i’m gonna kill you!” with the lightest touch on her neck imaginable. their palm is literally laying there with barely any pressure but her brain goes into overdrive and her eye starts twitching… LEWWWWSEERRRR

she thinks about it for days. literally sun up to sun down. not an hour missed of imagining her partner choking the shit outta her… and one night, she’s getting fucked to hell and decides to start dropping ‘signs’…

one night, her partners riding the fuck out of her and she’s seconds away from bussin when she grabs her partner’s hand. she doesn’t know how to bring it up without killing the vibe, so she just awkwardly places it on her shoulder. i imagine whoever’s fucking her be looking down like “odd placement but okay…” and ellie’s staring up like a kicked dog because they’re both fucking stupid😂😂 and then she angles her chin at the ceiling to expose her neck a bit more… like their hand is right there… slide a few inches over, and she’s home free!

but they don’t. they both nut and kiss each other goodnight, but ellie’s about to tweak. 2 tortuous weeks pass when she finally blurts out her desires over a hot bowl of cinnamon apple oatmeal… at least she thinks she makes it obvious enough for her partner to catch. what started off as normal morning conversations turn into ellie dramatically asking,

“do you like throats?”

when her partner stares at her like she’s sprouted two heads, she rolls her eyes to mask embarrassment. she clarifies, “i mean… do you like my throat?”

‘uhhh… yeah?’ was all she got, so she boldly asks.

“cool, cool… can you choke me tonight?”

and that night they fuck… and it’s awkward. but it’s not either of their faults. her partner’s scared that they’re gonna accidentally kill their girlfriend so they barely touch her neck, and ellie’s fiending to go light headed from lack of oxygen.

when ellie’s close, she gets loose-lipped, so she just starts frantically begging for them to ‘choke me harder choke me harder’, but her partner panics. a constant drawl of ‘are you sure what if you die oh fuck im gonna cum’ so ellie’s nails retract from her partner’s waist to lay her palm over her s.o’s with the filthiest glare… just the slightest bit of added pressure where her fingers squeeze theirs, and her partner’s thumb is pressed right on her pulse that thumps with anticipation…

and she busts on impact! possibly the loudest she’s ever been and the hardest she’s ever came in a while. their sex dynamics are changed forever, and ellie can’t nut without neck affection!

this is canon btw🩷

#nonnies ✄┈┈ ˚#thot thoughts 𓈒⁀➷ ‿➹#ellie williams smut

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'HOLD IT DOWN, DARE!,

"You've got to press it on you, you've just been thinking!"

☆ STARRING: CAMGRL2 AND E.W

AN: put my midwestern pussy into this ngl

SAN8NY:- im not a pimp!! pinky promises!!

WARNINGS: mutual consent to recording, kissing, nervousness on Ellie’s part, size kink, dacryphilia, a bit of pretentiousness on readers end, tribbing/scissoring, strapping, lots of foreplay in the beginning, barely plot, slapping (both on face and..elsewhere), Ellie quite literally gets feelings fucked into her, hair-pulling, praise, cum-eating, spit-play, Reader collects donations while Ellie goes dumb on a machine at one point, JUST a buncha whores tbh..lmk what i miss k?

“so..” you murmur, picking up your phone and going through the settings, apps—anything to make this moment a bit bareable,

“so!” She chirps back, green eyes sheening over with excitement, trying to not let the scenery of the dingy denny’s you were both in distract you from all the comments that led up to this very moment.

The girl across from you clears her throat, cracking a small smile as she places her own phone facedown, “I..uh, have never, like..—like, done this ever so it’s..”She trails off, nervously scratching her neck

You feign faux shock at this, picking up a small fry inbetween your own acrylic nails from her tray with a small ‘no? ..really?’ as you pop it into your mouth, chewing as you stare her down, “never?”

“Never.” She gulps, hoping you don’t catch the way she rubs her thighs together pathetically at the sarcastic pout you had on, she had it bad.

You hum a bit as you nod your head, “Hm..that’ll bring in more views. You’re not like..you’re not like a virgin..right?”

Silence.

“No..” She chuckles, “Funny story, I lost it at—“

“Don’t care. Anyways, your place or mine?” You swiftly cut her off, smiling as you tilt your pretty little head up at her, almost as if you didn’t rudely interrupt her,

“W-we can do min—“

“Mine it is.” You interrupt her once more, digging into your purse and taking out a compact mirror before snapping it close when you decide you look presentable to leave,

“Tomorrow at 7?” You reiterate as you lift yourself out of the booth chair,

“Yeah..yeah, 7 AM?”

“No, in the PM, who makes porn in the morning?”

“I-it was a joke..” Ellie nervously coughs, clasping her palms

“Oh. Ohhhh..good joke. Bye Nellie!” You wave as you pat her shoulder on the way out,

“it’s..Ellie.” The auburnette sighs, evidently star-struck and dazed as she caresses the shoulder you’d just given her the glory as to graze, her eyes fixed on the way heads turn as you make your way out of the door, some dudes going out of there way to open it for you,

“Guess Nellie is a good name too.” She shrugs, jerking back some more fries.

That following week, Ellie sits comfortably on your bed, though a bit stiff when you begin to roll the cameras.

“Nervous?” You whisper, walking on over to where she sat, nodding softly when you run your fingers up and down her calves.

“That’s okay, sweetgirl, ‘just focus on me..” You utter under your breath, beginning to kiss down her neck ever so gently like she were to break; to say Ellie was calm was an understatement, she was absolutely about to break her composure each time she felt your lips on her skin.

Like that, the donations start pinging.

“Why don’t you read some of the comments out f’me?” Ellie groans, cocking her neck back as your palms begin massaging her breasts under the t-shirt she had on, nonetheless, she obliges, with reading a few of the earlier ones out.

“T-they’re calling me a whore..” She says breathlessly, her chest heaving as you begin to push her onto your bed.

“And are you?”

She hesitates before nodding her head.

It’s minutes before your entire demeanor with her switches, cruely making her sit inbetween your legs infront of the camera as you laugh in her face, “God..look how wet she’s got already?’ This is who you wanted over Anderson? You guys amuse me..”

Ellie’s head rests on your shoulder as you play with her messy folds, hooking a finger on the elastic band and letting it go with a snap, she looks already so out of it by the time you lay her back down, spreading her thighs as you align your face with her mound,

“She’s actually such a slut..” You croon your head to the side, leaning in to read the comments,

“Slap her?” You laugh at the suggestion, turning back to Ellie, “I don’t think my dirty girl minds, no?” Ellie whines, shaking her head as you harshly slap her cunt with 2 fingers, giggling when she raises her hips up to meet the impact in sheer desperation, “Send like, a hundred and maybe i’ll eat her out, deal?”

Just like that, 500 hundred dollars is directly sent as the text-to-speech automator blares off,

“Ooh, 500? Guess i’ll have to give you really good head, baby.” You fake-pout as you pull her panties off, “She’s so swollen..” You sigh, leaning back and taking some aloe-gel out of your cubby, returning to lay on your own tummy inbetween her legs as you slather the cooling ointment across her slit.

“P-please just get— ah..” Ellie trails off, eyes slightly fluttering shut when she feels your wet muscle prod at her cunt, messily swiping around like a credit card as your nose meets her hidden clit,

“Mm, tastes so good..”

You reach your arms forward, bunching up her shirt and pulling it up as you knead her small tits, nipples cold from the sudden air hitting them,

Ellie feels like she’s going to orgasm already when she gently raises her upperbody with her elbows, head feeling heavy when she makes direct eye-contact you.

It’s a messy scene, really, from the way you dart your tongue in and out of her sopping pussy to the way the girl rubs her cunt all over your face, she hasn’t felt this good since..well, ever

and here she was, sharing this moment with the hottest girl ever and her 200k followers.

“Y’wu still twhere?” you slur your words, face buried inbetween the chub of Ellie’s thighs with no escape as you snap your fingers, Ellie nods, crying out when you slam your said fingers into her unsuspecting hole with no ease,

You quickly sit up, digits still buried as you wrap an arm around her waist to secure her— your fingers pistoning into her pussy at a rate Ellie would equate to light-speed, “G—gonna! G’na!” Her eyes widen, feeling a hot burning sensation churn like molting lava in her stomach, hitting her fast when she begins to see white

You ignore her, shutting her up with a kiss as she absolutely drenches the bed, cum spurting out in twitches; you don’t let up on the prompted assault, simply holding her down firmer as she babbles uncontrollably,

Once it rides out, you take some deep breaths and drag a finger down your wet face, soiled with none other than Ellie’s fingers as you hold them to her. “Say ‘ahh’, doll.’ You say, humming when Ellie opens her mouth graciously, pressing them on her tongue as she threatens to moan, tasting herself.

“gooood girl...” You preen sitting up, untying your robe, “I’m feeling a bit jealous here, ellie. I made you feel good, only fair I get some in return.”

1,000USD SENT: lol scissor.

Ellie feels a moan errupt deep in her throat, thanking the gods at whatever subscriber requested that, finally about to feel your own swollen clit on hers,

excitement paints her face as you straddle her, her leg tossed on your shoulder as your pussies meet, kissing as both of your breaths hitch,

“Ah! Mm, god, feels so good..” You moan, arching your back slightly as Ellie’s lips form an O, gasping at just how warm and wet you were;

“Uh! Uh! Uh!— B-baby! Ohmygod ohmygod?!—“ She finds you shoving her leg off and instead pressing both of them to her chest as you rut into her,

This would be a long stream.

Ping!

“Another one thank you.”

Ping!

“Another one thank you.”

Ping!

“Another— gosh guys, I’m getting tired of thanking you all.” You chuckle, lips glistening with the sucker’s syrup as it’s wrapped around your lips, the noises of machinery in the back clear as day, “Oh Ellie? Yeah, she’s fineeee, ‘arentcha babe!” you spin in your swivel chair to face her,

she was flat on her stomach, arch backed up as the machine fucks a gorgeous silicone cock into her— drool pooling at the pillow her face was buried into as she hums shakingly, cum cascading down her thighs and onto your ruined sheets in a waterfall like motion,

You shake your head as you lean down to kiss her wet lips, petting her hair as you both sloppily makeout, exchanging saliva, “My pretty girl..you’ve had enough, yeah? So so so pretty when you cry..” to which Ellie nods, tired with her cheeks stained with unshed tears straining her dry-eyes,

“She’s cameeee…er, how many times now?” You ask the viewers,

@e11ie0: 10!

@Dickmaxxer: 8!

@Notmyrodrick5: just joined, hot tho

After some minutes and Ellie becoming increasingly overstimulated, you decide it’s enough money for one day,

Giving your followers a warm goodbye, you end the stream— shortly, also turning off the machine.

“D-did I do good? Did we meet the goal? Was I better than her?“ She whispers, almost afraid of her own raspy voice as you pull her off the machine and onto your lap, “Huh? Better tha— Oh..Abby? Fuck, so much better..” You soothe, kissing the crown of her head,

Sitting in silence with your warm plush arms around her, she meets your gaze with a certain softness,

“You’re really pretty you know..” She heaves, still catching her breath,

“so i’ve been told..”

“and I think I like you..alot..” She manages to let slip out, before shutting her eyes— this, this was why she’d never collabed with anyone. She falls too hard, and now you were going to push her away and hate her and shit-talk her and—

“Do you now?” you softly murmur, tracing along ellie’s forearm tattoo.

She peers up at you with teary eyes, “Can I stay over? I-i know it’s weird because collabs are—“

“Ellie, I wasn’t planning to kick you out.” You say, carrying her over to your bathroom for some well-needed aftercare and a good sleep.

"..You know my name," she finally says to herself in a hushed tonebbefore knocking out.

Safe to say your streams incorporated Ellie alot more now.

TAGLIST:

@macaroni676 , @mystellenia , @seraphicsentences , @sleepy-sheep-things @tohoko , @bearomanoff18 , @ellieswife4ever , @elliezlils11utt , @love4lyn , @sleepy-sheep-things @cattjull @strangepuppywerewolf, @emst4rr

#ATTTEEEEE #BOWBOWBOWBOWBOWBOW #favs ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 . . . ♡

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