s4pphicghost

[s4pphicghost]

i just know the world will get better once i finish my 1 year old ellie fic

[s4pphicghost]

OHHH MY GAWDD

AU Powder!5th anniv, inspired by this feast👅👅👅

Zoom for details!

Full Gp!powder and Full strapon!

Mentions! @ac1dmeow @mxya-dreams @fortunxa :3

[s4pphicghost]

insanity .

Reader asking Ellie to record them fucking, and Ellie ends up getting really into it (love your writing btw!! 💋💋)

say hi to the camera ─⭑.

⭒ word count: 3.6k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content warnings: film student top!ellie x sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on (r!receiving), pussy slapping, hair pulling, filming kink, AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, rough sex, degradation + praise, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

࿐not part of the collide au (rip my absolute queens... this actually hurt my SOUL but hey sometimes we gotta go out of our comfort zone and get feral for... the craft)

you said it as a joke.

but it landed like a command.

it happens halfway through straddling her on the couch, your body already buzzing from the way she’s kissing you—slow and deep, like she’s trying to memorize your mouth. her palms are hot under your shirt, fingertips dragging slow up your ribs.

you lean back just enough to catch your breath, grin sharp as ever.

"you should record this next time."

her lips pause at your throat. she stays there, a little shocked, mouth barely grazing your skin, and then—voice low, amused:

"you want me to record you while i fuck you?"

you shrug, all fake casual, even though your pulse jumps.

"i mean… why not? could be hot."

ellie pulls back just enough to look at you. blinks once. and then she grins—all trouble. her hands drag down your sides, deliberate now, like she’s already directing the first shot.

"you want a sex tape, baby?"

your smile widens. "just for me. like, when you're gone late working on a project and i’m in bed missing you."

she groans. like, actual full-body groan. throws her head back against the couch, rubs a hand over her face like you’ve just ruined her life.

"jesus fucking christ. you’re evil."

you tilt your head. "you love it."

her gaze snaps back to you—darker now, her pupils blown wide, her lip caught between her teeth.

"i will story-board the fuck out of it. lighting. blocking. sound. i'll give you a score."

"you’re such a nerd."

“and you’re the one asking a film major to make a porno, so who’s the real nerd here?”

you laugh, leaning in to kiss her, grinding down on her lap.

“bet you’d narrate the whole thing like, ‘scene one—fucking my girlfriend. interior. night. single cam. practical lighting.’”

she chokes on a laugh, then groans, fingers digging into your hips. “shut the fuck up.”

“no, seriously—‘fade in: slut on couch. extreme close-up. one long take. raw as hell.’”

“i’m gonna ruin you,” she growls, and this time it’s not a joke—rough, all threat and promise.

you just smirk, mouth barely brushing hers.

“yeah, but make it auteur.”

she doesn’t bring it up again for a week. you think she’s forgotten, or maybe it was just talk—a shared fantasy that slipped between the couch cushions and the memory of her mouth on your neck.

but then it’s saturday night. you’re fresh from the shower, hair damp and clinging to your neck, skin still warm, still smelling like her soap. you’re wearing her old gray t-shirt—soft, stretched, worn in the best way—and nothing underneath.

ellie’s already in the bedroom. the lights are low, shadows moving slow across the walls. deftones plays from the speaker—just enough to feel in your ribs, not loud enough to distract.

when you step into the room, you freeze. she’s sprawled out on the bed in a black tank top and boxers, one knee bent, and a camera aimed straight at you.

not her phone. not some propped-up, shaky little attempt at homemade porn. a real camera—matte black, compact, handheld, with a flip-out screen angled toward her face and that unmistakable red recording light already glowing steady.

the kind of camera that says she’s thought about this. planned it. maybe even fantasized about how she’d frame you, light you, direct you. and now you’re here. standing in the doorway, already caught in the first shot.

“wait,” you say, blinking. “are you for real?”

she doesn’t even flinch. just looks up from behind it and grins, wide and wolfish.

“oh, i’m for real,” she says, voice warm and smug.

you snort, tugging the hem of your shirt down instinctively, "with a real fucking camera?"

"yeah, wanna see it in 4K" she responds, tilting it, lens still trained on you. "why? don’t get all shy on me now, babe. you're the one who said record it."

“yeah,” you arch a brow. “i just didn’t think i was dating a one-woman a24 production crew.”

“you’re not,” she says, adjusting the zoom. “you’re dating a visionary.”

you try not to laugh but fail.“you look like a lesbian scorsese.”

“and you look like the hottest thing i’ve ever filmed,” she says, voice thick, thumb adjusting the focus. “so maybe be nice to your director.”

you stay where you are for a second. let her film you standing still. let her zoom in the curve of your thighs, the way the shirt clings to your chest, the outline of your nipples through the fabric. the tension builds between frames, between your breaths.

“you’re actually committing to this?” you ask, voice softer now, a little breathless, as if the heat in the room just kicked up a notch.

“baby,” she says, adjusting the focus without even looking away, “i’ve been storyboarding this in my head since before we even spoke.”

her voice is calm, almost sweet—like it’s not the filthiest thing she’s ever admitted.

“freak,” you mutter, but you’re smiling, laughing again—breathier this time. your body already giving in. you step closer, hips loose, eyes locked on hers.

ellie lifts the camera a little higher, tracks the shift of your body as if she’s afraid to miss a second.

“show me,” she whispers, tone low but teasing. “come on, give me a show.”

and you give her one. you lift the hem of the shirt slowly. not for her—for the lens. you know exactly how this is going to look in playback. the glow of your skin in this light. the way your body starts to reveal itself, line by line.

you pull it over your head and let it drop to the floor, nipples stiffening in the cold air. your stomach tenses under her gaze, and you don’t try to hide the shine between your thighs.

she makes a noise—somewhere between a sigh and a curse—and the camera dips for half a second, like her hand twitched. you see her throat bob as she swallows.

you know that look. she’s not sure whether to keep filming or drop the thing entirely and fall to her knees.

and god, it turns you on even more.

"still rolling?" you ask, voice sugar-laced, cocky.

ellie nods once, "yeah. fucking hell, yeah."

you step closer, slower this time. not acting. not pretending. this isn’t performance—it’s instinct. it’s power. the way she’s looking at you, mouth parted, eyes glazed behind the viewfinder. you know she’s turned on before she’s even touched you.

“you better not cut the part where i called you a pervy little director,” you tease, all teeth.

ellie lowers the camera just enough to meet your eyes, flushed and slightly out of breath. hand still holding the lens like a lifeline.

“cut it?” she says. “i’m putting it in the trailer.”

you grin. shift your weight, your thighs brushing.

“turn around,” she says next, and it’s not a suggestion.

it’s gravel and gravity, all command. her voice has slipped into that other place—firm, sure, focused. all director mode.

you smirk but do what she says. slowly, hips swaying. your hands drag down your own waist as you pivot, and when your back is to her, you arch slightly—just enough. let her see the full curve of your ass, the slick glinting between your thighs.

behind you, there’s a sharp exhale.

"jesus christ," she mutters. then the soft mechanical buzz of her adjusting the zoom.

you don’t need to see her to know she’s locked in. her eyes drinking in every inch, the red light on the camera the only thing keeping her from touching you already.

you glance back lazily. “so, you gonna keep filming, or are you gonna fuck me?”

and that’s it.

the camera dips. her body snaps to attention like it’s muscle memory.

you’re pulled back towards the bed in one smooth movement—no hesitation. the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you drop, your body folding back on your elbows, legs parting without a hint of shame.

ellie stands over you, camera raised.

“holy shit,” she mutters.

she brings the camera lower, letting it drink you in, between your legs, over the slick. the way your chest rises and falls, nipples peaked, skin glowing.

“look at you,” she says. “you’re already dripping, just from being filmed.”

you shift, thighs tightening, and she catches the movement.

"such a fucking dirty girl," she mutters, one hand ghosting over your stomach.

she places the camera down on the nightstand, still rolling, still angled at your spread legs and heaving chest. her focus is so fucking precise it sends a wave of arousal through you all on its own.

and then ellie kneels between your legs like it’s her altar.

angel starts playing low in the background, slow and dark.

has she even prepped the soundtrack? you wonder for a second, half-laugh, half-moan.

(of course she did.)

she starts with your knee. presses her mouth there, slow and warm, a kiss that lingers just a second too long before she trails it upward. her hands follow—one curling firm around your thigh like she owns it, the other gliding up the center of your stomach, dragging heat in its wake.

she slips her palm higher, sliding between your ribs, under the soft weight of your breast.

her thumb brushes over your nipple and you gasp, chest lifting into her hand like you’ve forgotten how to do anything else but respond.

"you feel that?" she murmurs, voice low, like it’s just for you even though the camera’s still blinking red. "your heart’s beating so fucking fast."

you open your mouth to say something smart, something flirty, but then she’s kissing up your thigh again and the thought dies on your tongue.

she reaches your stomach, then your sternum, then your collarbone—and instead of diving down immediately, she pauses. tilts her head. looks at you.

and kisses you.

hot and deep, all tongue and teeth. one of those messy, all-consuming kisses that steals the breath right out of your lungs.

you moan into it—she swallows the sound greedily. her fingers are already moving again. one circling your nipple, the other caressing your side.

she pulls back just enough to speak, her lips grazing your cheek, then your jaw.

"you're perfect" she says, kissing beneath your ear, down your throat, impossibly reverent.

your hips roll up involuntarily, and she smiles against your collarbone.

"getting impatient, baby?"

"ellie—fuck—"

she chuckles. not unsympathetic—just pleased. her mouth finds your nipple next, tongue dragging over it slow, flicking, then sucking it into the heat of her mouth. her other hand moves to your other breast, squeezes gently, then rougher, thumb teasing over the tip until you whine.

"god, these tits," she mumbles against your chest, "camera’s not even doing them justice."

your back arches when her palm lands flat on your stomach, sliding lower, past your hip, fingers teasing the edge of your thigh.

"ellie," you gasp again, helpless this time.

she lets your nipple go with a soft, wet pop. looks up at you from your chest, mouth slick, green eyes lit up with that impossible mix of her—tender and ravenous, as if she wants to worship you and devour you in the same breath.

she shifts downward, dragging her tongue along the slope of your breast, down your stomach, until she’s eye level with your pussy. you’re throbbing, already wrecked, thighs trembling just from the anticipation of her mouth.

she glances at the nightstand, double-checking the angle like it matters. then brings her fingers to your folds, spreading you open with both thumbs, totally entranced by the sight.

“say hi to the camera, baby,” she teases, looking up at you.

and then, without warning, her tongue drags a slow, devastating stripe from your entrance to your clit.

you moan—loud, raw, helpless, trying to lift your hips but her free hand is already there, pressing you down into the mattress.

"f-fuck!" you whimper, voice cracking.

"that's right," she murmurs, licking again. "let it hear every fuckin’ sound."

she starts working you in earnest now—tongue circling your clit in tight, practiced spirals, her mouth warm and greedy. she moans against you, like the taste of you is enough to drive her insane. you can feel every vibration down to your toes.

your hands are tangled in her hair, thighs wide open, whole body arching into her mouth. she slips one hand between your legs and slides a finger inside—curling just enough to make your spine seize.

"holy shit," you gasp. "oh my god—Ellie—"

"more," she whispers against your clit, sliding in a second finger "let it see how messy you get for it."

and then she reaches back—without stopping—grabs the camera from the nightstand with her free hand, flips the screen toward you, and holds it low between your bodies. the image blinks into view—a live, unfiltered shot: your pussy stretched around her fingers, your mouth agape and brows furrowed, your thighs shaking with every thrust.

“you seeing this, baby?” she mutters, eyes flicking between you and the viewfinder. “fuck, look at you.”

and god—you do. you watch yourself fall apart in real time, every wet sound, every twitch of your stomach from overstimulation, every pump of her fingers, every gasp on full display. like it’s art, like it’s proof.

and it’s probably the filthiest, most turned on you have ever felt in your life.

its holy and obscene at the same time—your body laid bare, her fingers deep inside you, your face twisted with pleasure, and all of it immortalized in perfect footage.

you can’t look away. neither can she.

"ellie—please—I’m gonna—"

"do it," she growls, "come f’me, come for the camera."

you come with a cry that splits the room, loud, shaking. your thighs squeeze around her hand and your back lifts off the mattress, body wrung out like a rag.

she doesn’t stop, just slows her pace, works you through it. you’re trembling when she finally pulls away, kisses your thigh, and sits back with the camera resting on her bent knee. she lifts it, points it at your face.

you’re flushed, sweaty. lying in a wrecked halo of your own making.

“so damn perfect like this” she mutters, voice a rasp. "you want more?"

you nod, chest heaving.

"words."

"yes," you whisper. then louder, like she needs to hear it. like the camera does, too. "yes. fuck, yes. please fuck me."

and she grins like the devil.

she tosses the camera onto the nightstand—still recording, angled just right, lens slightly askew—but it only makes it hotter, messy, real. something she’ll watch for hours with her hand down her boxers.

she doesn’t say anything as she crosses the room, opens the drawer, and pulls out the harness. it’s not slow or performative. it’s practiced, casual. she straps it over her black boxers with one hand, the other slicking lube over the thick purple silicone cock. it gleams in the low light, catching the flash of the camera’s red recording dot.

you’re already moving, your body shifting on instinct—onto your hands and knees, face buried in the sheets, ass high in the air like it’s muscle memory.

ellie looks at you and lets out a sound from deep in her throat. almost a laugh, mostly a groan.“stay just like that.”

she climbs behind you, smooth and silent. spreads your cheeks with both hands and groans when she sees how soaked you are.

"fuck, baby. you made a whole fuckin' mess back here."

"ellie—"

she leans down, kissing the small of your back, then bites your ass, playful and sharp. one hand grips your hip, the other slides between your legs—and she slaps your pussy once, just enough to make you jolt and whine. it’s wet, loud, dirty.

she groans at the sound. "jesus. dripping."

then she drags the head of the strap between your folds, slow and heavy.

"you ready for it?"

you nod frantically, pressing your face into the mattress.

“say it.”

“please fuck me. please, i want it. i need it so bad—”

she wanted to draw it out—make you beg, make you squirm—but she’s just as wrecked as you are, barely holding it together. when she finally thrusts in, it’s with one deep, steady stroke that knocks the air straight out of your lungs.

you gasp, choking. “jesus christ!—”

“god, look at that,” she breathes, pulling back, watching the way you stretch and suck her back in with the next thrust. “you’re fuckin’ swallowing it.”

her hands find your hips. she sets a brutal rhythm, dragging you back onto her cock with every thrust, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing off the walls. the sound of your moans, the slap of her thighs against your ass, the headboard slamming the wall—it’s filthy.

she leans forward, chest pressed to your back, and wraps one hand around your breast, squeezing, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you whine. her other hand tangles in your hair and yanks your head back.

“you like getting fucked like this?” she hisses in your ear. “like a toy on display?”

“yes—fuck, yes—”

“touch yourself.”

you obey instantly. one hand between your legs, circling your clit in frantic, desperate little motions while she fucks you from behind like she’s trying to split you in two.

you notice that closer is softly but steadily playing, and the camera’s still rolling, capturing everything. the curve of your ass, the tremble in your thighs, the way your body jerks every time she bottoms out.

ellie groans like she feels it too—because she does. she’s grinding against the base of the strap, hungry and relentless, chasing the friction like she’s starved for it. the harness is soaked, her boxers nearly translucent with how wet she is, and every time she thrusts into you, the base rubs right against her clit.

“you gonna come like this?��� she pants. “gonna soak my dick like a good little slut?”

“yes—yes—fuck, ellie, i’m gonna—”

“say it.”

“i’m your slut,” you cry out. “i'm your fucking slut—”

and right then, without missing a beat, she grabs the camera off the nightstand, angles it behind you. the lens catches the mess of your ass bouncing against her hips, the wet slap of skin on skin, the slick sound of your cunt stretching around her the purple silicone.

and then she slaps your ass, hard. loud enough to echo through the room.

"fuck!" you yelp, back arching, legs shaking violently.

and you come like a landslide. body seizing, muscles locking, then breaking all at once as you scream into the mattress. it rolls through you in waves, loud and long, your thighs trembling, fingers still working yourself as you ride it out.

you feel it when she starts to lose it—her rhythm falters, hips stutter, breath hitching into short, high little gasps. her fingers dig into your waist and she presses forward, deeper, harder, her chest flush to your back like she’s trying to crawl inside you.

“fuck—fuck, baby—i’m—”

her voice cracks, and then she whines—high and helpless, the kind of sound you didn’t know she could make. desperate and slutty and fucking perfect. her whole body goes taut, then shudders, her thighs shaking as she ruts through it. she comes with her face buried in your shoulder, teeth clenched, breath shivering.

the base of the strap is slick and messy between you now, but she grinding against the harness like it’s not enough, never enough. she groans into your skin, broken and dazed, and you can feel her heart pounding against your back.

and when she pulls out, it’s slow and careful, hands suddenly tender where they'd just been rough. she leans forward and kisses your spine—once, then again—her breath hot and uneven against your skin.

“you okay?” she murmurs, palm sliding up your back in soft, grounding strokes.

you nod, barely able to form the word. “better than okay.”

she laughs, quiet and breathless, into your shoulder. a little dazed, wrecked herself.

she rolls you onto your back, her hand never leaving your skin, and collapses beside you. the room is humid with sex, thick with sweat, heat and the echo of everything that just happened. the air itself feels heavy, slow.

in her hand, the camera is still rolling. its red light blinks steadily, casting a faint glow over the two of you.

ellie flips the screen towards herself, then turns the lens on you—zooming in dramatically on your wrecked face.

“say hi, baby” she teases, still catching her breath.

you blink up at the lens, dazed. hair a disaster. lips kiss-bruised. eyes glassy like you’ve just returned from the dead.

“hi,” you mumble, grinning like a fool, “i just got fucked into the stratosphere.”

ellie then pans the camera to her own face—sweaty, flushed, hair sticking to her forehead—and raises both brows like she’s in a documentary.

“filmmaker. method actor. strap goat. i do it all.”

you burst out laughing, weakly swatting at her.

she grins, crooked and proud, turning the camera back to you. “and you just won best actress in a leading role, doll.”

“so, what’s the title?” you ask, giggling into the pillow.

ellie snorts—eyes gleaming like she just won an oscar and knocked someone out in the same damn night. she adjusts the angle, tilts the camera so you’re both in the frame: flushed, sweaty, radiant, completely ruined.

then, with the most serious voice she can manage, she deadpans to the lens—

“the slut and the lesbian scorsese.”

you wheeze. “shut the fuck up.”

“already submitted to sundance, actually.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“director’s cut drops next week.”

you try to slap her but miss—too sore, too high on her, too in love. she just laughs, smug and glowing, and zooms in one last time on your face.

“five stars,” she murmurs, “would absolutely fuck again.”

⭒ perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andiemiaswife @mayfldss @sewithinsouls @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pleasejoel @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @2against3 @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @imunpunishable @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ omg… first fic NOT set in the collide au in literal MONTHS and it feels SO weird but soooo good to write something different omfg 😭 rockstar!ellie and popstar!reader yall still haunt me everyday. my favorite lesbians for the rest of the eternity. i’ve missed this kind of chaos. huge love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!

i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on my perm taglist!

credits for divider: @cafekitsune <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me

[s4pphicghost]

omfg…………… hell yeah

Jinx!5th anniv🩷

I couldn't be biased.. So I decided to do them both</3 so be on the lookout for powpow as well!!!!!!oh and full ver here

[s4pphicghost]

a very impure thought but. can’t help myself. MDNI

her dark burgundy lips deliciously wrapped around your strap, her eyes full of burning desire and lust as she looked up at you, dark eyebrows slightly furrowed in the overwhelming need. her hands hold your thighs tightly, sharp nails pleasantly digging into sensitive skin, but even this sensation is clouded by the lovely, sexy picture in front of you. she takes it deeper and deeper, so ridiculously slow that you even worry about her comfort at first, but then you realize that she is deliberately teasing you. occasionally sticking out her wet soft tongue, running it along the length with the same unbearably low speed. but you don’t feel the plastic, right? then why is there this aching desire to speed up?

so you do. your hands caress her head gently with false praise, slowly moving further through her hair and then pressing slowly, forcing her to take you even deeper. she doesn't complain, of course not. obediently closing her eyes, she begins to move faster herself. your lips, parted for deep breathing, twitch in a smirk — her ability to take a strap so deep into her throat pleasantly surprises you.

"yes.. fuck, you're perfect.."

of course, you’d love to say how pleasant her hot and wet mouth feels, how sweetly her swollen lips squeeze the length, but alas.

however, just the look she gives you when she gazes up, the way her pupils swallow you whole, her wet lips, with increasingly smudged lipstick, makes your pussy get wet instantly, makes your clit throb from bitter injustice. when your hips join the movement, it spreads across the room — the amazingly arousing sound of her mouth swallowing the toy. you involuntarily let out a moan, your mind gets clouded by the erotic noise and absorbs every moment of this heavenly bliss.

you pick up the pace automatically, grabbing her hair roughly, ruining her perfect braids, supposedly starting to believe in the placebo effect.

"yes, jinx.. oh god, yes..."

her eyes start to lightly tear up and turn slightly red. she opens them occasionally to look at you, at how deeply dissolved in this intimate act you are. and she gets no less pleasure from this process. drool flows from her lower lip, even dripping onto the floor, her gaze burning with determination to please you as much as possible…

needless to say, you really did cum just from seeing her in this vulnerable state and from the mental dialogue you had through her gaze. the strap rubbed on your clit occasionally, but you didn’t really need active stimulation. the play of feelings and the pornographic nature of the act was what really made you see stars.

jinx made fun of you for a week for the fact that she didn’t even need to touch you for you to explode…

guys when i tell you i came in 3 minutes from this thought……… yeah.

[s4pphicghost]

— sleepover <3

au powder x fem reader; pure fluff! no cws, hope you enjoy ♡  (sorry for mistakes, feel free to correct me!)

it's common for you to hold hands, hug many times a day, have weekly sleepovers and spend most of the time together. even light kisses on the cheek have been slipping between you for a while now — neither of you thought about it for too long, giving friendly gestures an unfriendly coloring. at least, she didn't think about it, as you assured yourself.

Powder grabbed your hands tightly, her eyes burning with a mischievous blue flame. 

"you'll stay the night, right? I bought the eyeshadow, remember? that cherry shade! Vander gave me a couple of coins so I..."

this smile is more alive and dazzling than a newly born star. and a thousand of your entranced glances, opening other worlds in your head at every sight of these soft stretched lips and bared teeth, was not enough for you to get used to the warmth that was physically reflected in your body each time.

"of course… I promised, didn’t I?”

you faintly smiled back. the blue-haired girl was slightly shorter than you, and you didn't want to admit, but even such a small height difference seemed oddly adorable to you.

Powder (oh how she loved to do it), impulsively pressed you to herself, in usually unexpected — although, you should’ve gotten used to it by now — but such a comforting and sincere embrace.

“I’ll be waiting”

like a spring flower opening its delicate petals from the rays of the warm sun, her warming presence and such amazing calmness, trust in the whole world, made you cast aside all doubts and insecurities. it seemed even criminal — in her accepting gaze and soul-kissing smile to be embarrassed by your own sincere feelings. and still, you could not imagine actually confessing to her, overcoming your overwhelming fears. you only wanted one thing — to be a mirror of her soul, at least for a moment, to show her full beauty through your eyes — so innocent, naive, even though having gone through so much anger and injustice of the real world...

you always loved to see Powder like this — in large home t-shirts hanging from her small figure, with her blue hair gathered in a low disheveled bun, and tired, but incredibly beautiful deep blue eyes, and this tender look that she always generously bestowed on you in such intimate moments.

your knees were rubbing against each other — or rather, she deliberately initiated physical contact. you were lying on her messy bed, the new eyeshadow had long been lying open and forgotten on the table — she tried it on herself and made you give in to her requests to put some on you. she loved to share almost everything with you — delicious treats, clothes that had long seemed to belong to both of you (just divided into two different houses), sunny days filled with ringing laughter and even burdensome nights, when it was hard to just be, but being in your presence always gave her hope.

through her homely and thin from frequent wear t-shirt and the fabric of your nightgown, you could feel her steady heartbeat. you held her by the waist, not really pressing her to you, but just holding her in place without much effort, unlike her — one hand on your back, the other — a little closer to your waist, but she hugs you tightly, holds you close for 16, 17, 18 heartbeats seconds, and still doesn’t let go — your head is already boiling with thoughts, the almost dissipated sweet floral scent of her perfume fogs up your head, and you are on the verge of lowering your head to her shoulder, when she slowly pulls away, with a soft and slightly embarrassed smile — a sight rarely seen in other circumstances.

"I still can't believe they’re officially dating," she sighed, looking at the ceiling. if you were honest, you lost the thread of her thoughts quite a while ago, just watching the smooth rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips part and touch when she says the words. no, this feeling is not new at all. it feels like you've known her your whole life, even though you've only been friends for a couple of years. you started noticing intimate details about her a couple of months ago.

“sorry what were you talking about?" you whispered, lifting your head a bit so she could look at you. her eyes reflected the soft light from the window, causing the burgundy-purple glittery eyeshadow to shimmer unnaturally. a familiar and melting smirk graced her face.

"again? listen, are you sure you're friends with me... willingly?"

a soft chuckle fell from her pinkish-peach lips after her sarcastic reproach. she knew that you valued your friendship very much, she didn't doubt it for a moment and was forever grateful for your presence and efforts. and its not like she was actually annoyed by your lack of attention..

"this is the third time today."

the girl moved a bit, gently hugging you around the waist, pressing you even closer. you held back a sigh of unexpected sensitivity. you couldn't utter a word, not being able to come up with an easy excuse. Powder's gaze was directed out the window as you tried to get your thoughts in order. she felt like the soft warming sun breaking through the clouds after a cool, damp night. like the soothing sensation of loose, oily balm on dry, chapped lips.

"listen... can I ask you something rather... personal?"

your eyes seemed to widen for a millisecond, not even halfway through the last word. luckily she couldn't see it... not waiting for your answer (she was only asking out of politeness), Powder continued.

“do you like someone? romantically"

her eyes, now looking straight into yours, pierced your heart and soul. you knew that question would come soon, you really were bad at playing the role of a person who hides their true feelings perfectly.

although you may have known, you were definitely not ready, both mentally and physically. you still hadn't come up with an answer to that question...

it was hard to keep so many things under control at once — the rate of your breathing, the ‘confident’ relaxation of your body, the look in which she wouldn’t notice a drop of embarrassment. oh no, but you forgot one thing — you’ve been silent for a while now.

her smile widened sweetly.

the small, unnatural laugh cracked and died away. Powder averted her gaze.

"because I... thought it was just some platonic sympathy, but..."

her lips twitched in a forced smile before her teeth viciously sank into her lower lip. no, these lips exist only for the softest kisses! — your thoughts screamed. your brain did not even bother trying to process the information spoken by the blue-haired girl.

"when you laugh, look at me like this... no, it's something.."

Powder seemed so... different. complete opposite of the girl who talked incessantly with the enthusiasm of a child who had just learned to talk, confidently doing ridiculous and sometimes even risky things. oh no, the creature in front of you has the thinnest skin, the most tender heart and the most fragile soul of all that you’ve ever met.

"I want to wake up with you in my bed. I want to fall asleep with your warmth..."

your heart stopped for a eternity second. you had been looking at her face for at least half a minute, but it was as if you couldn’t really see anything. only an involuntary twitch of your hand brought you back to her disordered bed. her blue, ocean-deep eyes read every strain of your facial muscles. the girl's breathing was uneven and clearly audible to you.

"sorry.. I guess im kinda slow," you exhaled with a broken laugh, "do you mean..."

her voice sounded deeper and cut off the thread of your knots of thoughts

"sorry, this is probably a bit harsh. I'm not forcing you to answer this in any way now, I just wanted you to know, I guess..."

your heart was beating too loudly, the echo seemed to even drown out her voice. it was unnerving to meet her gaze, but what could you do when every cell of your body felt so alive, so real? it was difficult to pull out at least one of the millions of thoughts swiftly leading a round dance in your head.

“you.. I always felt like I was just imagining things when you... well, me too-“

her sweet, warm laugh dissolved the rest of the words on your tongue. her arms wrapped around your shoulders, foreheads connecting with a soft thump. your eyes could only recognize the smile that was so easily ingrained in your memory, always being the last thing you thought of before going to bed and the first thing in your head in the morning.

“god, I was so scared.. I thought I would never confess just out of fear”

unable to say a word, you pressed yourself against her, hugging her tightly. your fingers slid over the thin fabric of her shirt, feeling every vertebra. the girl’s body twitched with goosebumps running across her skin, but she did not pull away. burying her nose in your shoulder, inhaling your scent, she spoke, her voice lightly muffled.

“I’m so tired of thinking about this alone.”

“you never thought about this alone, trust me. but the silence was truly devouring.” you gently laid her down next to you. of course, you had hugged before — a thousand times. and in her bed, too. but at this moment, it felt like more than just your intertwined bodies; the embrace warmed more than just the top layer of skin — the warmth pierced right through.

“I’ll wake up in your bed tomorrow. and every morning after that."

im sorry this took so long for no reason ;-; hopefully it was worth it!

[s4pphicghost]

❝ HOT & COLD ❞

Jinx x fem!reader / modern AU

summary: Jinx and you are over—officially. But the lease says otherwise. Add a blizzard, a broken heater, one very unfortunate bed-sharing arrangement, and too many grudges to count. The blanket is thin, but the line between hatred and muscle memory is even thinner. Who knew emotional repression could be this warm?

contents: soft angst & fluff, exes to… something, forced proximity, only one bed trope, accidental intimacy, domestic tension, mutual pining, idiots (still) in love, poor communication skills, romcom fic, modern AU.

wc: 4.4k

Jinx masterlist ⭑.ᐟ

Jinx and you broke up.

Like, broke up broke up.

With tears, screaming, one shattered mug (accidental), one shattered phone screen (less accidental), and silence, in the end. Not the peaceful kind—just the kind that buzzed with all the things you didn’t say and probably wouldn’t.

It was Jinx who muttered, “Fine. We’re done,” and you who said nothing in response.

Not because you agreed, but because you didn’t want to beg. Again.

But, in your infinite brilliance, neither of you remembered to check the lease. Or maybe you did remember—just silently hoped the other would cave first and move out.

Because rent was hell, and pride was worse. And if you left, Jinx would win.

She was absolutely thinking the same thing.

Weeks passed. Two months, technically.

Two long, passive-aggressive, emotionally charged, death-by-a-thousand-paper-cuts months of sharing the same apartment like strangers who knew exactly where the other kept their trauma.

She holed herself up in the bedroom, headphones always on, voice rising in chaotic bursts during gaming streaks or mechanical rants to no one. You took the couch, curled into yourself at night, watching bad movies on low volume, mouthing along to the dialogue just to feel less alone.

It was the kind of breakup that involved changing the other’s profile picture on Netflix to their least favorite character just to push buttons, arguing about mugs that were mysteriously “stolen” (Jinx still maintained that the “World’s Okayest Girlfriend” mug always belonged to her), and a dramatic declaration from you that you needed “space to grow without someone damaging your Minecraft village every night.”

You coexisted in a very passive-aggressive ceasefire, held together by sheer spite and a mutual agreement to pretend the other didn’t exist outside of kitchen-related war crimes.

“STOP EATING MY CEREAL” became a recurring sticky note on the fridge.

“STOP BUYING SHITTY CEREAL,” Jinx wrote back, underlining shitty three times.

You labeled your food with threats like a deranged librarian. She responded by using your fancy almond milk to water your plants.

“You poisoned my fern!���

“She was a bitch anyway.”

One particularly tense morning, you found all your movie posters defaced with crudely drawn mustaches. Jinx’s crime was marked by the signature blue Sharpie and the fact that she cackled for ten minutes straight when you discovered it.

You retaliated by unplugging her gaming setup mid-boss-fight.

The scream could probably still be heard echoing down the hall.

She logged into your shared Spotify account and replaced your sad indie playlist with Yodeling Kid remixes.

You bought a life-size cardboard cutout of some D-list actor she hated and propped it up in the hallway.

She put googly eyes on it and called it her new roommate.

It was a cold, petty war. Very stupid, but livable.

Until the blizzard hit.

It came out of nowhere. No gentle snowfall or cinematic build-up—just a sudden, blinding white wall outside the windows, like karma finally cashed in all its receipts. Within the hour, the entire city went quiet, like someone had unplugged the world.

And then came the outage—lights gone, Wi-Fi dead. The fridge stuttered to a halt with a shudder, and everything fell into a hush thick enough to taste.

You were in the kitchen, standing over a sad bowl of reheated soup—portion for one—trying to stir some kind of comfort into it. The only light came from your phone’s flashlight, its narrow beams cutting through the room like a lighthouse in a sea of passive-aggressive clutter.

Jinx emerged from her room like a startled raccoon, squinting at the sudden dark. She blinked blearily, purple hoodie half-zipped, screwdriver still tucked behind one ear, and a half-disassembled drone clutched to her chest like a wounded animal.

“Hey,” she muttered, “did you pay the—?”

“It’s the storm,” you said, not even bothering to look at her as you angled the flashlight toward the stove. Your tone was flat and practiced. The tone of someone who had once shared a bed with her and now shared nothing but bills.

She paused. Processed.

“Cool,” she said flatly. “I love the apocalypse.”

“You would.”

There was a beat of silence. Then she scratched her neck, the way she always did when she was about to say something either vaguely important or incredibly stupid.

“So, uh,” she began, rocking back on her heels, “the heater’s dead, too.”

You turned your head slowly, deadpan. “What.”

“It was making this noise like eeeeeeeeeeeck—” She flailed one arm vaguely, mimicking an engine dying mid-scream. “Then nothing.”

You stared at her. “I told you we should’ve bled the radiator last week. It was already wheezing like a dying Victorian child, gasping out its final confession.”

Jinx just shrugged, unapologetic. “Yeah, well. He died doing what he loved. Making terrible sounds and being a nuisance,” she shot back like a stubborn teenager before realization hit. “Wait—were you just speaking to me like we’re still on speaking terms?”

“No, I was speaking to the other emotionally stunted idiot I share rent with.” You rolled your eyes, but your jaw tightened.

She blinked at you for a long second, eyes catching the flashlight. “Must be a crowd in here, then,” she finally muttered under her breath.

The tension had been simmering all evening—quiet, sharp, inevitable. You and Jinx stood in the darkened apartment like two ghosts who hadn’t figured out how to leave the place where they died. Wrapped in too-thin hoodies and thicker layers of resentment, you both waited for the other to break first.

“We could light candles,” you offered eventually, voice clipped, arms folded across your chest like armor.

Her head turned slowly, eyes glinting. “You mean my candles? The ones you took from our room after the breakup?”

You scoffed. “You don’t even like vanilla sugar cookie.”

“I like spite,” she snapped back. Then, of course, she went and fetched them anyway. She lit each one like she was performing a ritual—striking matches with far too much intensity, her face flickering in the flame’s glow like she was summoning a demon instead of basic warmth. You watched her set the candles down on the windowsill, the kitchen counter, and the old coffee table stained with memories.

The room was suddenly full of soft light and the scent of synthetic sweetness. It clung to the air like nostalgia—unwelcome and too familiar.

You pulled on another hoodie and cocooned yourself in a blanket from the couch. Lukewarm soup in hand, you sat cross-legged in the living room, the spoon tapping gently against the ceramic bowl like a nervous tic. Jinx paced behind you like she couldn’t stand still for too long without combusting.

“Bedroom’s warmer,” she finally muttered, not looking at you.

You raised an eyebrow without lifting your gaze, watching the soup swirl in your bowl like it held some kind of moral high ground. “Because you hoard all the blankets.”

“It’s called survival instincts,” she replied, leaning one hip against the doorframe. “Sorry you weren’t born with any.”

“I was too busy being born with emotional maturity.”

“Boring,” she tossed over her shoulder and turned on her heel, feet thumping softly against the floorboards.

But she left the bedroom door open.

You stared at it for a while. At the golden light pooling in the hallway. At the shape of her shadow disappearing inside. At the crack in your own will widening with every second.

Eventually, logic won.

Or loneliness did. Hard to say.

Ten minutes later, you stood in the doorway like a reluctant truce offering with crossed arms and toes curling into the icy floor through your fuzzy socks.

“You’re hogging the whole bed,” you said, trying for annoyance and landing somewhere closer to exhaustion.

“You weren’t in it,” she replied from somewhere under the blanket, her voice muffled.

“You left one pillow.”

“I am one pillow.”

“Gross.”

“True.”

You climbed in anyway.

The mattress creaked beneath you like it remembered things you didn’t want to. The blanket was warm in the places she’d already been, cold everywhere else. She didn’t move to make room, and you didn’t ask. Just shifted into the empty space beside her with the kind of caution reserved for old battlefields.

The silence between you was immediate and loud, only broken by the wind hurling itself against the windows like it had a vendetta. You lay stiff and awkward, the air filled with unsaid things and the scent of faint shampoo and stubborn memories.

“I’m still mad at you,” Jinx muttered into her side of the bed, her voice muffled and sullen, breath fogging faintly in the frigid air.

You didn’t bother turning around. “Then don’t cuddle me.”

“I’m not cuddling you,” she huffed defensively, indignation wrapped in shivers.

After a muttered argument and one poorly constructed pillow wall that collapsed under the weight of pettiness and shared body heat the moment you moved, the two of you ended up back-to-back, pressed together beneath the blanket like awkward divorcees forced to share a hotel bed at a family reunion. Two ex-girlfriends, one blizzard, zero dignity. But a whole lot of silence, tension, and regret.

Then, softly—reluctantly—she mumbled, “…Move closer, dumbass. I’m freezing.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it could’ve powered a generator. “Unbelievable,” you muttered, but you scooted back, just a little. She moved, too, slowly, like she wasn’t totally desperate for warmth. Or the smell of your hoodie. Or the shape of you.

Her toes bumped your calf, and you flinched. “Your feet are ice,” you hissed.

“You’ve got the warm ones. Share, frost witch.”

You kicked at her half-heartedly, but she just tangled her legs into yours like it was nothing. You both squirmed, adjusting awkwardly—arms crossing, knees knocking, elbows bumping into ribs—until you landed in a mess of limbs that felt more like a habit.

Jinx’s nose brushed against your shoulder—accidentally, on purpose—and neither of you mentioned it.

A long pause settled over the room. The kind of silence that comes after too many almosts and not enough apologies.

“…Are you still mad at me?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, like the question had snuck out before she could stop it.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment, then exhaled. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words leaving your mouth half-formed, like they didn’t want to exist outside of your chest.

Silence settled again. Not cold, but careful.

“I saw you crying during Finding Nemo last week,” she blurted out, trying—and failing—to keep the amusement out of her voice.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glare half-heartedly. “That movie is devastating. He literally loses his son.”

She grinned in the dark. “Yeah, but I was emotionally dead inside before the stingray scene.”

You let out a short, reluctant laugh—sharp at the edges, but real. “You’re the worst.”

“You love it.”

“I did.”

The air shifted.

Not just the temperature, but the weight of everything unsaid, and you could’ve sworn you felt the mattress dip with the gravity of it.

“…So. Past tense,” she said quietly.

You shifted beneath the blanket, fabric brushing against her leg. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Her voice was too innocent.

“Make it sound like I’m the villain in your sad indie song,” you murmured.

Jinx blinked. “I would never.” Then, she smiled. Softly, almost fond. “Your vibe is more… tragic lesbian who dies in Act III.”

That earned another huff of laughter from you, but quieter this time. Sadder.

You turned to face her—just barely—and your noses nearly touched. Her breath was warm against your mouth. You didn’t move, and neither did she. The space between you was almost nothing, but still everything.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other in the half-dark. Breathing the same cold air, wearing the same old ache, still pretending the word love wasn’t curling in both your throats like smoke.

Her eyes fluttered. You could see her trying to stay present, to stay with you. But every few seconds, her gaze would soften, blur a little, until she blinked hard again and refocused on you—like your face was something she didn’t want to lose track of.

Your chest rose, and so did hers. In time.

It was around 3:00 a.m., though neither of you knew it. Because Jinx was curled against you like she forgot you broke up and lost the right to touch, and you didn’t remind her.

Maybe neither of you cared.

You fit together the way people who’ve fought and fucked and forgiven each other a hundred times always do—like old puzzle pieces with frayed edges, soft from use.

You weren’t really awake, but not quite asleep either—somewhere in the middle, suspended in that liminal space where your body acts before your brain does.

So when you stirred beside her—shuffling closer, sighing softly into the crook of her neck—it felt natural to respond. Familiar, like muscle memory. Her arm curled instinctively, draping over your waist like it used to.

You didn’t flinch. Simply exhaled, deep and steady, while your nose brushed against her collarbone in the dark. A second later, your lips followed, grazing soft skin—too lightly to be deliberate, too precisely to be random.

“You still grind your teeth when you’re about to fall asleep,” Jinx mumbled suddenly, her voice low and heavy, half-buried in the pillow between you.

You smiled into the dark—one of those worn-in smiles that surfaces from memory before thought. You didn’t mean to. It just happened, the way muscle remembers softness even after months of tension.

She exhaled, her breath warm against your temple, slow and even like the rhythm of a tide she couldn’t resist. Her lips brushed skin—not purposefully, not quite. But close enough to blur the line.

It wasn’t a kiss.

But it wasn’t not a kiss.

More like an echo.

A ghost of the old days, when goodnights always came with kisses and mornings meant shared coffee—too sweet, made one-handed while you still wore your blanket like a cape—and legs entangled in sleepy domestic knots.

An entire life lived in tiny routines.

You shifted slightly, voice drowsy as you murmured, “You’re breathing on me.”

“Can’t help it,” she mumbled, her words slurred with sleep. “You’re warm.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“Probably,” she hummed in response, a quiet, contented sound. The words melted into the quiet like honey in tea.

You moved again, slowly, thoughtlessly—half-lost to sleep yourself. Your nose brushed the curve of her cheek, skin to skin in the dark. “You’re soft.”

Jinx didn’t respond to that.

Because what could she say?

That she knew?

That she’s only ever soft with you?

That the word soft coming from your mouth made her want to cry in a way nothing else ever did?

That she missed being called that more than she’d miss breathing?

So, she said nothing.

She just leaned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to your temple—so light it could’ve been imagined, so instinctive it didn’t feel like a choice at all.

Not even thinking.

Just moving. Reacting. Remembering.

“I still set the kettle out for you,” you whispered suddenly, voice barely audible in the dark.

She stirred beside you. “What?”

“Every morning. I don’t know why.”

She went quiet for a long moment. The kind of quiet that meant she was holding something between her teeth, turning it over.

“I still charge your phone when you forget.”

You blinked, eyes stinging suddenly, inexplicably. The quiet pressed in around you again, heavy with all the things you hadn’t said.

“…We’re so dumb,” you said, almost laughing. It came out cracked.

“The dumbest.”

Another silence, but not empty.

Never empty.

Then she shifted, just slightly, like her whole body braced for impact before the words even left her mouth. “You know,” she said, quiet and careful, “I didn’t stop loving you. I just got tired of trying to become someone you could stay with.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t respond right away. Not because you didn’t have words, but because none of them felt like enough—not for this, not for her, and not after everything.

But slowly, tentatively, your hand found hers under the blanket. The touch was gentle, almost shy. Yet when your fingers slid into hers, they fit the same way they always had. Like nothing had changed. Like everything had. Like love learned how to hold on even when you tried to let go.

Your thumb brushed over her knuckle once. “You were always someone I wanted to stay with,” you whispered. “I just didn’t know how to stay with you and not lose pieces of myself in the process.”

Jinx’s grip tightened, just a little. Just enough. “I would’ve given you space,” she murmured.

“You didn’t know how,” you said, not unkindly, just true.

“I do now.”

Silence again.

Then, slowly, she tilted her head. Her mouth brushed the edge of your jaw—featherlight, slow, like she wasn’t sure she had permission. Like she was trying not to wake you. Like the memory of loving you was still rooted in her muscle memory, twitching to life in the dark.

And you let her. Turned into it, just slightly, because you were too tired to pretend you didn’t miss the way her lips used to know exactly where to land.

You met halfway.

The kiss was nothing like the ones you used to share. No urgency, no hunger, and no frantic pulling at clothes or gasps between apologies.

It was soft and short and not entirely awake—it happened so gently, so sleepily, you didn’t even realize you were kissing until it was already over.

Just a peck. The kind people don’t mean to give—like a sigh, or a yawn, or reaching for the light switch in a room you haven’t lived in for months but still remember.

Like coming home for three seconds in the middle of a snowstorm.

And then, without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose. Barely a whisper of contact. Just enough for her to breathe in sharply, like even now, even half-asleep, your affection still caught her off guard.

Then a third one—this one landing a little off-center, a little clumsy, brushing messily across the corner of her mouth.

A hello.

I remember you.

This still lives here.

Jinx made a small, involuntary sound—something between a sigh and a whimper—low and soft against your lips, like her body remembered you before her mind could. Your noses bumped lazily, and you smiled into it like it hurt.

When you finally paused for air, foreheads pressed together, you whispered, “This doesn’t mean anything… right?”

She nodded against you. “Right. Just… survival. Warmth.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, breath puffing against her lips. “Like penguins.”

She cracked a smile. “Exactly.”

“So if I kiss you again—”

“It’s so I don’t freeze to death,” she finished for you.

“Obviously.”

Another kiss.

This one lingered—longer than the last, warmer, steadier. There was a quiet kind of certainty in it.

“Penguins mate for life,” you whispered against her lips, the words soft and teasing, but not without weight. Like you tried to make it a joke so you didn’t have to admit it sounded like a promise.

Jinx blinked, caught mid-breath.

“…Shit.”

You laughed, breathless, and buried your face in her neck again, smelling her body wash and deciding not to comment on the fact that it smelled suspiciously close to yours.

Her arms slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. “Sleep,” she murmured, voice raspy with exhaustion and something far too tender. “Before we say something even dumber.”

“Too late,” you mumbled back, the words muffled against her collarbone.

You fell quiet again, tangled up in heat and history and every part of you that never quite let go, her thumb tracing something lazy into your spine.

“We’re a mess,” she whispered.

“Always have been.”

“Still want toast in the morning?”

You smiled, eyelids heavy now, the weight of the moment pressing down like warmth. “Yeah.”

Jinx’s grin was lazy and crooked, her voice slurring at the edges of sleep. “I’ll burn it just how you like.”

Outside, the storm continued.

Inside, two idiots kept forgetting they ever broke up, suddenly remembering how to be soft again.

And maybe the heater would come back.

And maybe you’d go back to hating each other in the morning.

But the body doesn’t lie the way the mouth does.

Because love doesn’t vanish—not really.

Sometimes it just moves into the living room and leaves sarcastic sticky notes.

yippeee i haven’t forgotten how to write softness!!

[s4pphicghost]

jinx’s moans are probably very yummy, but i need her rugged breathing.

uneven breaths, sometimes barely audible, deep, almost soothing, forcing her chest to rise in slow waves; sometimes sharp, ringing, so deliciously interrupted by an overwhelming heat, followed by a long exhale that almost escapes as a sweet moan. each breath laced with need, spreading through her body with merciless speed…

[s4pphicghost]

what perfume do you think s2 powder would use??

i might be writing something… ♡

[s4pphicghost]

i feel like jinx is so slutty i need to eat her out and call her degrading names in the process

[s4pphicghost]

thank you guys sm for all the likes, comments & reblogs on my first fic 🫶🏻 it means so much to me!!

[s4pphicghost]

congrats on your first post ❤️‍🔥

tysm 😼😼

[s4pphicghost]

Omg if you have it can you post the full pic of Ellie with eyeliner?

i made a few 😭 they’re kinda ugly though

[s4pphicghost]

doing ellies eyeliner ⋆｡˚ ❀

first post !! hope you guys will like it <3 (im sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language) feel free to correct me/give advice!!

!! palestine links !! & !! daily click to help !!

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

your girlfriend frowned and crossed her arms at your words. "seriously? me and makeup?” she looked at you doubtfully. "yes!!" you cried out happily, “i’d really like to see how eyeliner would look on you.. please, ellie”, you looked at her with a soft, sweet look, trying to mentally convince her. the girl rolled her eyes jokingly. you were so excited by the idea, she just couldn’t upset you with refusal.

“okay..”, she sat on the bed, leaning on her hands and watching in a relaxed position as you rummaged through your makeup bag with enthusiasm. “gonna sit on my lap?” ellie grinned playfully. “only if it makes you more comfortable” you glanced at her and sat on her lap. she wrapped her arms around your waist and looked into your eyes. her touch sent pleasant goosebumps across your skin. you placed your hands on her cheeks and she leaned into your hands… you couldn’t help but smile. “close your eyes and don’t open until i tell you to”

ellie obediently closed her eyes. you spent a few seconds admiring your girl: freckles randomly scattered across her face, cute thick eyebrows and that scar... the features that made her stand out. you stared long enough, she realized what was happening, smiling without opening her eyes. noticing her reaction, you got down to business. you carefully traced the tip of your eyeliner along her lash line, trying not to move too fast. such thick and dark eyelashes, they always impressed you and you loved it. silence filled the room. you were so close to her, you could hear and feel her breath on your hands. the moment felt kind of intimate, it made you slightly nervous. your fingertips gently stroke the girl’s cheeks. she seemed very calm and relaxed, unlike you. ellie frowned when your movements became more confident, her eyelids twitched from your touch out of habit. you accidentally moved your hand with the eyeliner in the wrong direction. “fuck..” you whispered through a dissatisfied sigh and stood up from her. "whats wrong?" the absence of you in ellies hands, even for a few moments, upset the girl.

“you’re twitching too much, the line is crooked..” you returned to her lap with a cotton swab in your hands. she raised her head again. "too ticklish." she said sharply, her voice filled with playful annoyance. you carefully wiped away the crooked line of the eyeliner, trying not to press too hard on her thin skin. “be patient a little longer baby”, you kissed her forehead softly and again did your best trying to draw perfect lines. the girl put her hands back on your waist and squeezed a little, pulling you closer. she smirked in satisfaction, without opening her eyes. you melted under her touch, but you tried to keep your hand strong and make confident movements, even if your hands were a little shaky. after a few minutes of suffering, you got more or less accurate triangles. “open your eyes..” you closed your eyeliner and looked at your girlfriend with admiration. she frowned a little “ugh, this thing tightens the skin..”

you smirked contentedly and placed your hands on her shoulders. “you look so cute.. i knew this shape would suit you.” the girl smiles back at you, happy that you are happy with the result. “you’re such a pro”. “you didn’t even see it!”, you exclaimed, quickly got up from her lap and ran for the mirror. "here.." the girl was slightly surprised by her reflection. “wow.. this is really good,” she said, looking at herself from different angles. the eyeliner really did highlight her eye shape well and the forest green color of her eyes seemed to pop out more. “im surprised i even like it". a smile spread across your face and you began peppering your girlfriend’s face with endless amount of soft, small kisses. she laughed softly, feeling the warmth of your lips that made her blush a bit. her arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.

"what's next? you’re gonna dress me in your evening dress?” she asked jokingly through your nonstop kisses. you paused for a couple of seconds and looked at her. the delight on your face made it clear to ellie that she just made a big mistake. her eyes widened with slight embarrassment. "oh fuck no..."

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i would be really grateful for any feedback!! ty<3

[s4pphicghost]

I’ve done so many requests now but.

nerd!els (glasses 😖) x reader: always helping reader but reader wants to return the favour..?

NERD!ELLIE

cw: smut, bottom!ellie, kinda loser!ellie? she's mostly shy, oral, the glasses omg

PALESTINE MASTERPOST and HELP WITH A CLICK + ISRAELI THEMES IN TLOU

"—then you add this to your previous result, and you're done." ellie's patient voice reaches your ears as she taps the dark numbers you wrote down on the paper in front of you. you nod, following her directions and pausing to do the math in your head before you write down the result. expectantly, you look up at her, and grin in victory when she gives you an approving hum.

"finally!" you breathe out as you toss your pencil on ellie's desk, "took me five of these to get it right." the brunette smiles at your enthusiasm, her eyes flicking down to your stomach while you stretch, looking at your now exposed skin due to your shirt riding up. she immediately averts her gaze, a faint tint coloring her cheeks. you notice, of course you notice, but give no signs of it.

the girl next to you clears her throat and fixes her glasses on her nose, "five more to go." you groan, "if tomorrow i don't pass the test, i'm going to be so upset."

"you've passed all of them so far." she reminds you. you nod, "thanks to you."

and that's true, ellie's been helping you for months now. after your first failed test you practically begged her to study with you, and of course she accepted. you've been study buddies ever since.

to ellie, it felt like a dream. despite the two of you not being close, she's had a massive crush on you for so long now, always admiring you from afar. you'd once worked together on a group project— that's when she first talked to you— and she's been hooked ever since. she was always looking forward to group meetings just to have a chance to talk with you and see you laugh, and when that was over, she always sent glances your way just to immediately look away when you caught her staring. for that reason, she was beaming on the inside when you approached her one day and asked for her help.

it took her a while to get comfortable around you and not stutter or look away whenever you held eye contact for too long. she was embarrassed about how incredibly shy she was around you. however, little by little, she got to know you and learned how to calm her nerves whenever you came over to study. she didn't want you to see her as a loser, so she had to stop blushing like a fool.

needless to say, her crush got bigger and bigger as time passed. she couldn't help but let her thoughts wander, often imagining what would happen if she touched your hand when you were sitting so close together, or if she turned her head and kissed you when you leaned over her shoulder to see what she was writing— of course, being too afraid of rejection, she never tried any of that. she just kept her fantasies to herself, hoping you wouldn't notice what was going on inside her head.

she's brought back to reality when you let out a groan, bringing your arms back down to your sides, "can we take a break?" she definitely needs one as well, so she mumbles a small 'sure'.

a long moment of silence follows. you turn to look at her and tilt your head to the side, quietly observing the girl sitting next to you. your eyes follow the curve of her nose, then jump to the few dark locks adorning her face, just to travel down her jawline. eventually, you set your gaze on her lips. the brunette keeps her focus trained on the textbooks on the desk, trying to not squirm under your scrutiny. 

"you know," your voice causes ellie's head to snap your way, "you've been very helpful. without you i'd be a mess right now." her chest fills with pride at your praises and thanks. she tries to suppress her smile and instead shakes her head, "no need to thank me, i don't mind helping you out."

"you're spending your afternoons with me instead of going out and having fun, but i swear i'll make it up to you!" another shake of her head follows, more vigorous this time, "i don't really have much to do anyways... i'm not the most outgoing person." 

you hum in understanding, considering her statement. "so, no hanging out with your friends?" she responds with a small 'nope'. "no dates either?" the question makes her awkwardly laugh, "not really." she drifts her attention to the pencil on the desk, rolling it around on the smooth surface in order not to appear too awkward. 

"want to change that?" it takes a second for what you said to register in ellie's brain. she freezes, looking up at you over her glasses. her mind starts reeling with thoughts and hopes— are you asking what she thinks you are? does that mean you're actually into her? you patiently wait for her to say something while trying to suppress the amused smile that's threatening to appear on your face. finally, she speaks up. "i...are you asking me out?" 

"i mean, why not? we've been spending quite some time together and you're both smart and good looking, so..." you drag out the last word, letting it hang in the air between the two of you. ellie must be dreaming, right? she's been quietly crushing on you for an eternity and you're finally asking her to go on a date? with you? the stars were finally aligning in her favor. 

"plus, i did say i wanted to return the favor. and i can think of a few ways to do that." your hand moves to rest on the brunette's upper leg, causing her body to immediately tense up at the unexpected contact. her green eyes widen a tiny bit when she feels your fingers experimentally graze her inner thigh, her gaze darting back and forth between your face and your hand. she can feel her heart thumping so loudly in her ribcage, and her mind struggles to come up with any kind of response.

when faced with her stiff reaction, you start wondering if maybe you've read her completely wrong, so you retreat your limb, "it's okay if you don't wan–" ellie's quick to interrupt you, "no! i mean– i want to..." 

you search her face to assess the situation, then nod. getting up from your seat, you straddle her lap instead, trapping her body between you and her wooden chair. ellie's heart skips a beat and blood rushes to her cheeks as she stares into your eyes. 

you then lean in to link your lips with her plump ones in a careful kiss, which sends the other girl's brain into a frenzy at finally being able to taste you. the initial tentativeness gradually morphs into eagerness until you find your tongue dancing with ellie's in a more sensual manner. you can feel the brunette grow more confident with each passing moment, her hands squeezing your waist as she occasionally breathes muffled sounds of pleasure into your mouth. needless to say, you're positively surprised by how quickly her shyness is disappearing.

you lower one hand from her shoulder to sneak in between your heated bodies. the instant ellie feels the gentle pressure you're applying on her center, her breath hitches in her throat. she involuntarily ruts into your hand in search of more friction, and you pull away from the kiss.

you brush your nose against her ear, catch it between your teeth, then brush your lips against it as you whisper, sending shivers down the girl's spine. "let me taste you?"

her body responds to your words in an almost instinctual way, arousal pooling in her underwear at the thought you've just installed into her head. she nods.

you leave your place on her lap to swiftly lower yourself on your knees, halfway under the desk and right between her legs. your eyes find ellie's big, doe ones as you start unbuttoning her jeans before you pull them down her legs to pool around her ankles— simple black boxers, it fits her. your nails drag up her pale things, scratching her skin with just the right amount of pressure to make her bite her lip.

the glasses hoisted on ellie's nose start slipping down, and when she goes to remove them, you stop her. "keep them on." why does that turn her on even more? she obliges to your request— or order, really— and readjusts them so that they won't fall when she looks at you.

you hum in approval and hook your index finger into the hem of her underwear. she raises her hips to help you pull it down her thighs and past her bent knees, leaving her naked in front of you. her inability to close her legs and hide herself from your hungry eyes makes her shift in place. nonetheless, she doesn't do anything to cover her body.

"so wet already." ellie feels her cheeks get warmer, if that's even possible, but she'd be lying if she said that she doesn't like your tantalizing comments. you use the pad of one finger to collect her slick and smear it all over her clit, facilitating the movements of your digit over her puffy bud. 

it takes all the willpower she possesses for ellie not to buck into you, your touch electric on her body. "please." she begs, the simple word carrying so much neediness with it. you smirk up at her, "say it again."

her voice comes out smaller, "please..." but you want to have your fun as well so, "again." fuck—, you're driving ellie crazy. three time's the charm, because the brunette's tone is louder, driven by the desperation she's starting to feel. "please, fuck me."

that gets to you. without a second thought, your tongue peeks out of your mouth and licks a long, slow stripe up ellie's folds. you flatten your pink muscle and repeat the motion a couple times, the taste so deliciously intoxicating. your hands securely grip ellie's thighs to keep her wide open for you; then, you get to work. the tip of your tongue circles her pulsing clit, playing with the bud in such a way that elicits a long moan from the flustered girl above you.

you spend a good amount of time flicking and sucking her clit with a consistent pace. ellie fights the urge to close her eyes, not wanting to look away from the view of your face between her legs and your mouth latched onto her cunt— she's mesmerized, incredulous and so turned on, she could explode. one hand grips the hard edge of the chair, knuckles white in effort, and the other finds your hair to cling onto it and hold you close to her.

you decide to switch it up a bit and focus your attention on her tight hole, teasing it with the tip of your tongue before pushing it inside as you start fucking her. that winds a whine out of the brunette's mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head in ecstasy. 

she lets her body move on its own accord, vigorously bucking into your face with no restraints— you don't mind it one bit. wanting to help her chase her orgasm, you flatten your tongue so she can grind on it however she pleases, your warm breath fanning over her heat. 

ellie is in fucking heaven. pleasure floods through her veins and the pressure in her stomach increases with every bump of her clit against your tongue. "shit, it feels so– oh my god." her words come out slurred in an almost incomprehensible way.

with one last powerful motion, she comes undone on your tongue, her grip tightening on your hair. you lap at her folds to let her juices invade your taste buds, and don't stop until she squirms away in overstimulation.

her head is thrown back and she's looking at the ceiling, trying to clear her mind from the fog. you abandon her pussy to rest your chin on her thigh, just above her knee. when her drowsy eyes meet yours, you send a grin her way and receive a sheepish one in return.

but the post-horniness clarity hits ellie like a truck and all her forgotten shyness comes back to her, making her hide her face behind her forearms. "i was so loud." she complains, which makes you laugh fondly. "a little."

you leave a peck on her inner thigh and stand up, finally allowing her to clasp her legs closed. "we're going on a date, then?"

"after this? i'm ready to do whatever you want."

[s4pphicghost]

HAI LINAA

HII DAYANA 🤞🏻🤞🏻

[s4pphicghost]

do you live in russia right now? i’m just curious cause i heard some ridiculous things regarding lgbtq community there… hope you’re safe if you’re in russia

yes, unfortunately i do :// and yeah, lgbtq community is considered extremist 💀

thank you though <3