vahnilla

[vahnilla]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ let me hear you

guitarist!ellie x leadsinger!reader smut oneshot

synopsis: things get heated during an argument with your band mate…

warnings: smut, 18+, ellie’s kinda mean :( (but also hot, so…)

“what the hell?” you turned back sharply, shooting ellie an irritated look over your shoulder.

“why do you keep messing up on this part?” ellie looked up from her guitar, annoyance shown clear on her face as she rolled her eyes.

the exhaustion of repeating the bridge of the song for the last hour had finally gotten to you. you were already fed up, but ellie's nonchalant reaction finally sent you off the edge.

angrily, you turned to fully face her, mic gripped tightly in your white-knuckled fist. “i'm gonna strain my fucking throat if i have to keep doing those high notes again! what about this is so hard?”

ellie always had a response for whatever insult or complaint you shot at her. this time was no exception.

“what about this is hard? having to listen to your goddamn screeching without clawing my ears out is hard.”

you scoffed incredulously. “screeching? my screeching won us five grammys you asshole!”

now it was ellie's turn to scoff.

“you think your voice is what got us those wins? unbelievable.”

you opened your mouth, just about to fire out another scalding retort when dina interrupted from the back of the room. “let's not do this right now, ok?” she said, voice tired and disarming, exhaustion clear on her face as she set down her bass.

you watched as jesse got up from his seat, face equally as tired, as he set his drumsticks down. “we can just continue tomorrow.” he agreed.

you looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “don't we need this done by the end of the week?—“

“we have time.” jesse said, voice authoritative and full of finality.

ellie just shrugged as jesse left the room, dina following close behind him.

you sighed, fastening your mic back on the stand before turning back to ellie.

“what’s up, williams?” you asked provokingly, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “what about that chord switch you’ve done a million times before is suddenly so hard?”

she glared back, the muscles on her arms flexing as she lifted the guitar off around her neck. “you sure talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t do her job.” she fired back.

“how the fuck’s your voice even getting tired after a few riffs on notes in your range?”

she was unbelievable. “most people would have blood streaming out of their throats if they had to sing those notes as many times as you’d messed up!”

“yeah, and you don’t, don’t you princess? cause you’re soooo special.”

you stepped closer, face beginning to heat up. “at least i do something. you just stand in a corner high as fuck while you strum your goddamn guitar, waiting for flocks of fan girls to tell you how much they wanna fuck you.”

that seemed to really get on her nerves.

ellie strode towards you, fully fired up. “the fuck is your problem? why d’you always come for me, and only me?”

you just glared at her in response, fists balled at your sides, refusing to back down, desperately trying not to pull away with ellie’s face a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“what?” she whispered tauntingly, voice venom-laced as her breath fanned against your cheek. “you have a crush on me or something?”

that caught you off guard. you weren’t ready and it was about cost you.

you’d recovered after a few moments, but it was too late. you’d stared too long, face guilty, eyes telling ellie everything you wished they wouldn’t.

“oh. my. god.” she scoffed, corners of her mouth drawing upwards as she stared at you in disbelief. you’d never wanted to wipe a smirk off her face as much as you wanted to right now.

“are you being fucking serious right now?”

you stared straight back at her, heat of embarrassment flowing to your head, rendering you unable to think.

“fuck off.” you spat, hoping the bitterness in your voice was convincing enough to distract from the internal shame you felt, finally caught.

she just looked at you, face both smug and incredulous at her new discovery, gaze so intense you struggled to keep it.

you cringed as your eyes involuntarily flickered to her lips. crap.

ellie just chuckled under her breath, low and quiet. “you want a kiss, baby?”

you froze. the unexpected pet name only further turning your brain into mush.

“i think you actually fucking do.”

she watched you, eyes slowly raking down your body before snapping back up to meet your gaze, lingering on your lips on the way.

“you want this?” she whispered, leaning in a little closer so that she was just out of reach.

it was all you could do to stare back in silence, exhaling shakily as you let your eyes fall on her lips, having completely given up on trying not to.

you leaned forward involuntarily, lips just nearly brushing hers before she swiftly pulled away.

“ah-ah,” she tsked, smug smirk strewn across her face, “i need to hear you say it.” she whispered lowly, the type of voice fans would scream over in concert.

you felt ellie’s hands ghosting over your arms, painfully hovering over your skin, as a whimper escaped your lips.

“c'mon,” she encouraged at your silence. “use your words, babe.”

you swallowed nervously, throat dry and head hazy at the surreality of the situation, as you forced out a reply.

“i want this-you.” you corrected, “i want you.”

“yeah?” ellie asked, teasing tone fading from her voice, replaced by something hungry, something more genuine. “so do i.”

your mind went blank the second ellie’s lips finally met yours. what did she just say? her hands held your face on both sides, firmly pressing her lips onto yours.

almost immediately, your hands wandered to her arms, her neck, her hair, desperately looking for something to hold onto, to ground you as you lost yourself in her.

you moaned into her mouth, allowing an opening for her tongue to slip in.

she worked your mouth as she walked you backwards, your gasps and moans lost between your lips.

your back hit the cushioned wall with a soft thud as ellie pushed you up against it, body pressing against yours, desperate for contact.

you were mid-moan when she pulled away from your face, slowly taking you in; needy eyes, swollen lips, the picture of desperation.

she smiled to herself, shaking her head at the ground. “look at you.”

you felt her run her arms slide up and down on either side of your waist. “you sure about this?”

were you sure about this?

did you need oxygen to breathe?

“ellie, are you stupid?” you asked pointedly, voice only slightly breathless, the feeling of a retort familiar on your lips.

you watched as she quickly let go of your waist, arms raised just above her shoulders in disarm.

“els, please.” you whined, the want for her touch much too strong to keep you defiant.

you sighed as you felt the warmth of her hands on your waist once more. a chuckle left ellie’s lips. “that’s more like it.”

you moaned as ellie began kissing down your neck, tilting your head back against the wall to allow her more access. “mmh-fuck.”

you let her take your wrists in one hand, lifting them above your head and pinning them against the wall.

her knee slot between your thighs, pleasure shooting through you at the friction your cunt had been craving since you started fighting.

“is this why you were such a bitch to me? to get my attention?” she mumbled against your collarbone, breath hot against your skin, as you whined in response, hips involuntarily rolling against her knee.

“this why you kept giving me shit for all the girls i ‘take home’? huh? you just wished you were one of them, didn’t you?”

you probably would’ve stormed out of the room if she’d said that any other time, but right now? as she was fucking you up against the wall? you wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.

ellie moved back up your neck, leaving a trail of wet licks and kisses on her way, before returning to your lips. “fuck, you’re so hot.”

you arched against the wall, hips grinding down on her as she continued pressing up against you. you felt her move to the side of your face, lips brushing the soft cartilage of your ear.

“you been waiting for this, huh?”

she kissed along your jaw, “you wanna, fuck, know the real reason i kept messing up that riff?”

what the hell was she talking about? and now? “ellie-wha-? hah-!”

“your voice gets real fucking breathy at high c.” she groaned against your skin, lips dragging down your jawline, “you sound like such a slut.”

ellie’s lips reached on your neck, sucking a spot that caused a high-pitched moan to escape your lips.

“yeah, just like that.”

you felt the knot in your stomach tighten as your hips began moving faster, grinding down hard as ellie pressed up into you, hitting your clit just right.

“fuck, els—i-hah-!” you babbled, face fucked-out. as you completely lost yourself in pleasure.

“yeah, baby?” ellie panted against your skin. “you gonna cum?”

it was all you could do to moan in reply, suddenly thankful for the soundproof padding along the walls of the studio, as filthy praises fell from ellie’s lips.

“cum for me, baby. come on.”

“lemme hear you.”

“hngh-! ellie-i-ah-fuck!” your orgasm rippled through you, leaving you arching against the wall, eyes rolling back in ecstasy, as ellie fucked up into you, working you through your high.

your body stuttered and slowed as you came down, ellie letting go of your wrists as she caught you in her arms, limp body falling forward as your legs gave out.

she helped you up, holding your sides for support. “you okay?” she asked breathlessly, reveling a little of the state of you.

“i-mm-fuck, yeah.” you managed to reply, mind only beginning to clear from the intoxicating haze. “i should’ve done that sooner.”

you didn’t catch the little smile playing on ellie’s lips. “yeah?”

her arms rubbed your sides affectionately as your eyes slowly met hers. “well, we could always do it again.”

she nearly laughed at the way your eyes lit up at her suggestion. adorable.

you chuckled, a mischievous smirk spreading across your face. “what, you wanna hear me hit high c again?”

you watched as she rolled her eyes, not missing the light blush that began creeping up her face at your tease.

“c’mon,” she said, taking your wrist as she led you out the door. “let’s get to bed.”

[vahnilla]

down your throat

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ Vampire Ellie strapping you, but she licks it after !

1k words ! ໒꒱ masterlist !

Ellie loved when you were on your period. The type of hunger your blood provided her could keep her going for hours. She could be between your thighs for weeks, watch your blood coat her fingers or strap for hours, anything to see or smell or get a taste of your blood. The blood she treated like a treasure, something sacred.

It was sacred for her, since she only got it once a month.

It was probably around 3am at this point—you didn’t care, not when your alarm clock had been on the floor for hours already. Especially not when Ellie had been fucking you over and over again the entire night. Since the moment you stepped through the front door and felt familiar hands wrapping around you and pulling you to the bedroom. The bite marks were proof—but so was the mess.

Ellie had blood on her fingers from fingering you, there was some on her lips, on the sheets—the whole ordeal. But she loved it, she loved being covered in you. She loved being able to suck the blood off her fingers, lick it out of your pulsing pussy as she ate you out, and even lick it from your neck when she accidentally bit too hard. She loved to drag her fangs along your skin, feeling you shiver and squirm.

After making you finish so many times already, Ellie was using her strap on you. Her red eyes were trained on you below her, your legs spread and eyes half-lidded. She had that feral, unhinged look in her eye—the look that made other people scared but you turned on. Her lips were parted, fangs peeking out in the cutest way. Though, it was sexy too.

Ellie watched her strap slide in and out of you, her ears twitching at the squelching sound your pussy made with every thrust. When you’d moan, she’d snap her eyes back up to your face and smile. “You like it, baby?” she asked, as if you weren’t a mess beneath her.

You nodded, hands finding her pale bicep to squeeze it. You were gone at this point, having came so many times you felt a bit hazy. But yet, you craved more. After your last orgasm, you thought your exhaustion was too much, but when you saw the strap you changed your mind.

“Tell me then.” she ordered, clear and simple.

You moaned, back arching when she thrusted particularly hard. Ellie’s sharp nails dug into your thighs, but not enough to break skin. She didn’t blink once, pupils darting up and down your worn out body. She looked hungry, despite all the blood she already got that night.

“Feels so good..needed this so bad.” you managed, struggling to keep your eyes locked on her intense gaze. She angled her hips differently, making your body jolt and your back arch up. “Right there..Ellie!”

Ellie grinned, fangs resting on her lips like a threat. A threat you were oddly attracted to. “You’re so easy to please, sweetheart. Tell me what you want. I want you to say it.” she rasped, it was evident how much she loved hearing your breathy, needy voice as she fucked you. A kink? No, more than that. The friction against her clit didn’t help, she was praying you’d ask her for more.

A vampire praying? Taboo.

“F-faster—please.” you pleaded politely, a stark contrast to the situation you were in. She didn’t even reply, just started to fuck you at an animalistic pace. Now it was your turn to dig your nails into her skin, the sudden pace hit you harder than you had anticipated. “Ellie!” you cried, the bed crying and creaking beneath you.

“Thought you wanted it faster, baby.” she laughed, totally getting off on this. She kept fucking you, groaning at the way you sucked her in and the way blood coated her strap. It genuinely made her drool, she had to lick her lips to contain herself.

You felt a familiar knot tighten in your lower abdomen, you knew you were close. That feeling was something you felt that whole night, something you didn’t need to warn Ellie for—she memorized it.

“Close? Give it to me, baby. Wanna see that blood fuckin’ flow out of you.” she said, though it was hard to make out what she said through her own moans. “You know I’ll clean you up, come on.” she urged, a dangerous promise you knew she’d keep.

With that, you came. Messy and rough, your moans echoing off the walls and hitting her ears in the most blessing way. Your back arched up, nails digging crescents into Ellie’s biceps, and your fucked out hole spasming wildly around the silicone inside you.

Ellie’s pupils dilated, her whole focus on the way you clenched around her. She could see the blood—she could practically taste it. Even though she didn’t cum yet, she stopped. She pulled out, quickly taking the strap off.

Before you could voice your confusion, she heightened it. She brought the toy up to her lips, tongue darting out and licking the crimson you left on it. Your mouth fell open, face growing incredibly hot at the sight.

Ellie smiled at your reaction, kitty licking the blood off the strap. The strap that was just ruining you. It was fucking filthy, but you loved it. You loved how desperate for a taste she was, and how she showed you that. She then took the whole thing into her mouth, sucking the blood right off like succulent juice.

When Ellie got that load of blood in her mouth, she moaned suspiciously loud. That’s when it hit you—she came. She came from tasting your blood. You saw her eyes roll back, you heard her teeth sink into the silicone. And you were left dazed, eyes widened like you just watched the most insane thing happen before your eyes.

Well, you did!

With a pop, she pulled away from the strap and smiled at you. She had blood on her lips, fangs, tongue—all over. But she looked so, so satisfied. “You taste so good, baby.” she praised, already lowering herself down so she could be level with your pussy again.

“Did you seriously just cum?”

“Lay back.”

“Answer my question.”

“Watch your tone, I don’t like repeating myself. I said lay back.”

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @hyperbabes @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv @smaugayra @andieprincessofpower @elliesfavtoy @sewithinsouls @pariiissssssss @aliselune @myla-wyla @nattakasuperlesbian @xiletay @sawaagyapong @ellies-real-wife @lostdecisions @liddyflyer @talyaisvalslutsoldier @dustandpearls @vicluvsu @urmomssideh0e @ilovetaylorrr @shynymphh @mars4hellokitty @sevikasswifee @miracletyphoon

A/N - this is ass..BOOOOOO. but, i’m working on something else so don’t worry!

[vahnilla]

── stream sniped

a one-shot about streamer!ellie falling for a random influencer who wants nothing to do with her (except she actually does).

content: streamer!ellie x influencer!reader, strangers to lovers, ellie's down bad, so is reader you’re just better at hiding it, twitch chat/discord sever/titkok comment antics (that were a bitch to write ngl), MDNI 18+, fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (e!receiving), there's like a splash of meta during the smut that made me giggle when deciding to include it, reader described as having a clit

word count: 5.6k

author's note: so this is where i reveal myself as having quite a bit of knowledge about streaming/gaming/chronic online-ness in general. also, does this count as loser!ellie? am i part of the gang?! anyways, i hope you enjoy!

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: we're soooooo back 😤 !discord !drops

“alright, alright,” ellie muttered, dragging a hand down her face as she leaned toward her second monitor. “let’s do today’s discord submissions. i’ve been skipping out on them because you guys have been fucking weird lately, so... don’t make me regret this.”

her camera’s a little off-center—she obviously just rolled out of bed, the unmade sheets still visibly rumpled in the background, and her hair's clearly unbrushed beyond probably a haphazard comb through with her fingers.

ghostpeekr: !!!!!!!! tryqt: BE NICE ELLIE elliesdischarge: i just sent a pic of my cat meow for her rn whiffytiffany: is she playing with chat members for fortnite tonight???? elliethrows4me: dude make your bed.

ellie sighed, already regretting everything. “i never make my bed, you guys know this by now” she grumbled, clicking into her discord anyway. the #stream-submissions channel lit up immediately. “alright. what are we working with today…”

she scrolled through hundreds of chats, stopping at the ones with the most reactions. first up was a photo of someone’s dog.

she squinted. “this is your… dog?” it’s a tiny, wet-looking chihuahua wrapped in a blanket like a human baby.

“that’s—okay, listen, i’m sure she’s very sweet. but she looks like kind of like a maggot? why the fuck are her eyes doing that.”

lootsluttt: LMFAOOOO v4nitymirror: SHE’S MY BABY ellieclips: you’re the maggot-looking one actually. princessp3ach: UR GOING TO HELL

she kept scrolling.

“okay, next up—dinner pic. we’ve got noodles, veggies… chicken? that’s chicken, right?” she tilted her head. “yeah, okay. this looks gas. eight out of ten. presentation is questionable, but i’d eat it.”

nerfventure: W DINNER flick_n_trick: it’s pad thai dumbass ecam96: NOT U CALLING IT UGLY NotElliesAlt: u’d eat anything tho

ellie glanced at chat and snorted. “okay, but i’m a growing girl, i’ve got a big appetite!”

elliesdischarge: i got something you can eat message deleted by a moderator. dusty_diamond: RATE MY SETUP PLSSSS I JUST POSTED IT sandydunez: okay so where’s the growing part tho?

next post. it was a tiktok.

she paused. “okay, wait. is this gonna get me banned like the last time?”

the video started playing anyway. one of those dramatic thirst edits. saweetie’s my type blasted in the background, and a slideshow began: a list titled in giant capital letters:

“THE HOTTEST WOMEN ON THE PLANET — RANKED.”

ellie raised a brow. “mmmkay. hot women, my specialty. let’s see who made the cut.”

#5 was some instagram model. she nodded approvingly. “valid…”

#4 was a streamer she knew—kind of annoying in real life. she wrinkled her nose. “mid. there’s better streamers out there, you know. ones that might be on your screen. like…right now. i dunno, just saying.”

#3 was that girl from a CW show that everyone insisted was underrated.

#2 was a picture of asami from nickolodeon’s the legend of korra.

she looked at the camera. “okay, but, like…deadass, why am i not on here? this one’s not even a real person?”

leilaniiii: GIRL BE FR nonbinarybullets: 💀💀💀 elliesyumyum: ur like top 17 at best tima0911: not everything is about you smelly.

she flipped off the camera, a grin tugging at her mouth. “you guys have no taste.”

and then—#1.

the music swelled. the tiktok cut to a clip of you.

it was casual, not even a thirst trap—just you in a tank top and sweats, talking to your chat, laughing at something off screen. it was one of those clips where someone was effortlessly attractive without trying, and ellie immediately leaned closer to her screen.

she blinked. “who even is that?”

whiffytiffany: NO WAY mikuirl: THAT’S MOTHER maybemaddie: HER @ IS pastaluvrrr NotElliesAlt: ELLIE BE SERIOUS

ellie’s brows pulled together, genuinely confused. “i’ve literally never seen her in my life. also her user is literally pasta lover. i’m supposed to be impressed?”

usuallylurkin: L + RATIO + SHE'S HOTTER THAN U ellieclips: ur username is smellie btw paine_45: she's like famous famous slaystation_: SHE’S SO GFFFF

she waved a dismissive hand and clicked off the video.

“never heard of her,” she muttered, already loading up fortnite. “anyways. queueing up squads. if you stream snipe and don’t let me win, you’re getting banned.”

it took approximately four hours.

four hours between ellie squinting at your face on stream and someone from her chat catching her lurking in your comment section.

the tiktok in question wasn’t even that serious. you’d filmed yourself in your bathroom mirror, hair half up, wearing one of those off-the-shoulder baggy t-shirts, mouthing along to some audio.

and right there, in the comments section, was ellie’s account:

@ smellie: “wait she’s kinda bad tho”

of course, one of her viewers immediately took a screenshot before ellie even had the chance to delete it. not that she would’ve. but still.

by midnight, the screenshot had already gone viral.

a photo post popped up on for you pages everywhere, featuring a zoomed-in screenshot of the comment with saweetie playing again in the background (naturally). the caption read:

“i think ellie figured out who she was.”

it had 70k likes within the hour.

and, of course—you reposted it.

the comments on the post immediately flooded with:

“OMG SHE REPOSTED” “not ellie switching up so fast” “ellie back up SHE’S MINE”

meanwhile, ellie’s discord exploded.

#general was moving so fast, the mods were genuinely worried:

smelly mod #7: sooooo @ smellie we saw the tiktok 😭

within minutes, ellie herself was typing.

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: GUYS chill out omg smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: you’re literally blowing my street cred smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: also there was NOTHING wrong with what i said. she’s fine asf. i was simply making an observation

naturally, no one let her breathe.

ashieee: street cred????? wizard bupple: what streets u live in wyoming cuh ellie's gf #real #actually: remember when u didn’t know or care who she was

ellie attempted damage control.

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: okay FIRST OF ALL, wyoming can get scrappy. i have plenty of cred. smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: and SECOND OF ALL. y’all clipped me out of context smelly mod #2: you literally said “who even is that” allyson.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱: in 4k babe. we got u in 4k

at some point, she just gave up.

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: i hate all of you smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: ok but if someone made very hot, sexy romantical edits of us tg i’d probably hate you a little less smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: #otp?! 🥺

smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: new drop just landed. ur welcome 😎 tiktok.com/smellie

it was… a thirst trap.

or her version of one, which meant it was shot in her kitchen with bad lighting and camera half-tilted, lip-syncing to some dumb audio while wearing a backwards hat.

before her regulars could even start roasting her for it, someone had already forwarded the message from #announcements to #general with a reply:

pastalover: nobody’s watching ts 🤣

the server went feral.

laffey ʚɞ: HELLO???? marisol (she/they): EXCUSE ME??? ellie's shift key: you mean to tell me she has been here the whole time??? smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: YOU’RE IN HERE??????

ellie immediately direct messaged you.

smellie: you’ve been lurking like a freak smellie: you didn’t even say hi smellie: and THAT’S what you break the silence with??? pastalover: be grateful i even watched it enough to know it was cringe

and then, a day later, you went live.

a rare event. your streams weren’t regular—more like when you were bored and felt cute. your overlay was minimal. just chat, a little corner cam, and non-copyrighted lofi in the background.

you were doing a get ready with me stream, mid-eyeliner, when you glanced over at chat and smirked.

"yes, i saw ellie’s most recent tiktok. yes, i wish i hadn’t.” you said, voice lazy with disinterest. “she’s, like, obsessed with me.”

topnoodle44: MY OLD MARRIED COUPLE 🥰 0ping: BE SERIOUS ellieuseslightmode: ellie’s gonna faint altaccnumber26: she’s in chat rn btw iclutchforpastalover: she’s BEEN in chat

you paused.

“oh.” you looked at the camera with a raised brow. “she’s here? figures.”

ellie’s username popped up in chat two seconds later.

smellie: looking so good bestie 😳 smellie: drop the lip combo smellie: or come here and kiss me so i can try it on smellie: wait who said that-

you rolled your eyes. “i use a revlon lip liner in the shade mauve and then the elf lip oil in the shade jam session. not that these words would mean anything to you.”

smellie: blah blah blah. proper name, place name, backstory stuff.

you scoffed. “you’re unserious.”

mikuirl: just admit you kinda like her flirting maybemaddie: WAIT I LOVE THE ELF LIP OILS WE’RE SO TWINNINGGGG NotElliesAlt: ellie barely remembers chapstick LMAO chousey203: i can’t tell if you curve her bc you hate her or bc you like her

“actually, i’m doing a public service. her ego needs balance.”

smellie: my ego’s doing fine. it’s my heart that’s in danger.

laughing, you leaned into the camera. “see? she’s like… weirdly committed to the bit.”

smellie: this isn’t a bit 🧍‍♂️

you stared at the chat, deadpan. “sooo, yeah. back to the tutorial. mods, can someone time ellie out for 300 seconds.”

smellie: WTF message deleted by a moderator.

the entire interaction was timestamped, clipped, and in about 15 different tiktoks within minutes.

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: carrying @ pastaluvrrr in fortnite

“okay,” ellie said confidently, leaning so excitedly forward into her mic her voice came out slightly fuzzy and bass-boosted, “fortnite is all about communication. precision. teamwork. and—most importantly—aura. follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

“don’t you literally die first in every match?” you replied, sipping your drink without looking at the screen.

ellie scoffed. “i—okay, first of all, that’s slander. second of all, my KD ratio is… hold on…”

there was a pause as she scrambled to look it up.

“…okay, next topic” she mumbled after a beat. “ready up for me.”

ecam96: girl she gagged u elliesdischarge: ur trash but ur hot so it’s fine jmattsz: you’re both gonna get clapped in 2 minutes besosss: SHE SAID FOLLOW HER LEAD 😭

“wait,” you said as you readied up, “how do i do the little dance?”

ellie gasped. “oh my god. you don’t have any emotes.”

“i don’t play this game!”

“yeah, no kidding,” she muttered. “hold on. i’m gonna flex real quick.”

your screen suddenly showed her character cycling through a ridiculous line-up of skins—spider-man, ariana grande, peely in a tuxedo.

“i cannot believe you spend real life money on this shit,” you said flatly.

“hey! some of them are gifted, okay?”

“your chat literally hates you, babe. who is gifting you anything?”

“HEY.”

slaystation_: did i just hear "babe" 👀👀👀 macetotheface: she’s negging her ON STREAM ellieclips: ellie FIGHT BACK.

the game loaded in and she yelled at you to thank the bus driver like you had any idea how to do that or what she even meant. she picked some obscure landing spot and said “trust me” like she hadn’t already proven herself deeply untrustworthy.

you landed. broke open a chest. got a shotgun.

then immediately got shot in the back.

“oh my god,” you groaned. “ellie. help.”

ellie was halfway across the town, looting.

“you’re downed already?! hang on, hang on,” she said. “i’m coming. hey, don’t crawl away—wait.”

her character—bruno mars, she’d finally settled on—stood over you uselessly as the timer for the revive slowly ticked down.

“what are you waiting for, get me!”

“say please.”

“the fuck?”

“say 'pretty please with a cherry on top my most gracious streamer and fortnite carry god, ellie.'”

a beat.

you rolled your eyes, then smirked at the camera, clearing your throat and lilting breathily into your mic, “puhleeease, ellie?”

ellie stopped moving entirely, the tips of her ears going red in her grainy facecam. her character continued to stand there, unmoving.

“hello?” you prompted. “ellie?”

“sorry,” she said quickly, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “uhhhh.. got distracted by something.”

v4nitymirror: KEEP IT TOGETHER. looten_scooten: ellie.exe has stopped working elliethrows4me: she’s in love ur honor

she revived you with shaking hands and zero cover, getting absolutely lit up right after by a sniper.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME SAY THAT IF YOU WERE JUST GONNA DIE?”

“i panicked!!”

you cackled as the enemy finished her off, her reboot card popping up with all her loot (a grey pistol and a fishing pole).

and then—something strange happened.

as you ran to hide behind a tree, fully expecting to die immediately, two other players—clearly stream snipers—ran up to you. instead of killing you, they dropped guns. medkits. ammo. one of them started building a small base around your body like a protective little guard dog.

“ummm,” you said slowly, “are these… fans? what’s happening here”

“what the hell?” ellie said from the death screen. “they literally murdered me and are now… escorting you?”

one of the players' characters emoted and blew a kiss to you.

you laughed so hard you snorted a little. “babe. i think i have a fan club.”

“this is fuckin’ rigged,” ellie muttered. “i die first and you get princess treatment?”

you turned your character in a circle, doing a default dance in return for their affection.

“okay,” she said, “they’re banned. all of them. from chat. for life.”

boostedbytenshi: THEY’RE PROTECTING HER 😭😭😭 ayayayaim: reveal yourselves in chat this is too funny elliebutinallcaps: jealous!ellie i fear sandydunez: actual carrying. ellie could never.

you made it to the top five before your guards were finally overwhelmed and killed. you screamed as you got sniped out of a bush.

“so close,” you groaned, slumping back in your chair.

ellie sounded smug. “see? told you you needed me.”

you raised a brow. “i outlived you by, like, eight minutes.”

“semantics.”

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: IRL OVERCOOKED w/ baeee (pastaluvrrr)

ellie’s kitchen wasn’t exactly equipped for a baking stream. one of the cameras was actually just her laptop with a built-in cam propped up on a couple of books, the $19.99 two-pack of cheap amazon microphones left much to be desired, and someone—ellie—had forgotten to actually buy half the ingredients before you flew in.

nevertheless, the chat was buzzing at the concept of seeing you and ellie actually interacting together, in-person.

“okay,” ellie said, clapping flour-covered hands together despite the recipe not even calling for flour, “welcome to my kitchen. today we’re making… brownies.”

“from a box,” you added.

“from the heart,” she corrected, nudging your hip with hers.

NotElliesAlt: “brownies” is code for sesbian lex isn’t it usuallylurkin: HELLO? THAT HIP BUMP elliesyumyum: when are y’all just gonna make out

you glanced at the recipe on the back of the box and back at the counter.

“you didn’t preheat the oven.”

“i—” ellie looked down. “i forgot.”

“ellie.”

“i got distracted.”

“by what?”

she looked at you. you stared back.

chat was going a mile a minute despite being on slow-mode.

“riiiiight,” you said slowly, turning to grab a mixing bowl like your pulse wasn’t suddenly doing backflips. “anyways. dry ingredients.”

ellie poured in the bagged mix way too fast, a cloud of dust puffing out from the bowl making you both cough.

"careful, ellie."

she laughed, leaning in to read chat, her face taking up half of the camera.

"holy jumpscare, could you get any closer?"

ellieuseslightmode: back up WE'RE SCARED topnoodle44: where are her sweats from theyre so cute :00 elliethrows4me: can we start a prediction on whether or not they'll burn the brownies

she just laughed, her eyes continuing to skim through the messages. "where are the sweats from?" she leaned back, moving to tug on the waistband of the pants you were wearing, "these are actually from my highschool, funny enough."

you pressed your lips together in a thin line, giving her a look. you hadn't exactly planned on letting chat know you were wearing her clothes and they were about to have a field day with the information.

there was a pause. then she cleared her throat, turned back to the camera, and grinned, "and my shorts are from nike!"

"alright. moving on. can we actually bake now?" you opened a cabinet, scanned it. “where are the chocolate chips?”

“should be in the pantry.”

you walked over and gave the pantry a brief glance-over. not there. “can’t find it.”

“lemme help,” ellie said.

she followed you off-camera, into the pantry.

which would’ve been fine.

except you were really close in there. the shelves were shallow, the door was half-closed, and neither of you had thought to flip the switch outside that turned the lightbulb on.

“what are we looking for again?” she asked, a rustle of plastic punctuating her words.

“chocolate chips. i literally said that ten seconds ago.”

you glanced up as she pushed further into the pantry beside you, her shoulder bumping yours. she didn’t move.

“you found them yet?” she asked, not really looking at the shelves anymore.

“no,” you said, quieter than you meant to.

she turned her head. now she was looking at you.

you swallowed. “getting distracted again?”

her lips quirked into a small smile. “yeah.”

you nodded. "me too."

and then she kissed you.

it was sudden—soft and unsurprisingly clumsy, her hand brushing your waist as her other arm bumped into the baking powder and nearly knocked it off the shelf. your back hit the wall with a dull thud as she licked into your mouth.

and your clipped-on microphones were definitely still recording everything.

NotElliesAlt: HELLO??? tima0911: WHAT AM I HEARING RN tryqt: LIPS. ARE. SMACKING. elliesdischarge: holy makeout elliebutinallcaps: THE MICS ARE ON YOU IDIOTS

when you came back into frame, cheeks flushed and mouth definitely more swollen than it had been before, ellie trailed behind you with the chocolate chips in hand and the cockiest little smirk on her face.

you avoided eye contact with the camera.

“soooooo,” you said, voice slightly higher than usual, “we found them!”

“yep,” ellie said casually, “took some digging. but we got there.”

v4nitymirror: TOOK SOME DIGGING IS CRAZY jmattsz: i can't believe i said i'd gift 20 subs when they finally hooked up and it actually happened on stream.

you coughed. “oven’s ready.”

you leaned over the sink, dabbing at the last of your eyeliner smudge with a cotton round. your reflection stared back—cheeks still hot, lips a little too swollen.

behind you, ellie was half-sprawled across the bed, scrolling idly on her phone.

“you always take this long to wash your face?” her voice was soft. teasing, but not unkind.

you met her eyes in the mirror. “yes. i've made multiple tiktoks about my routine. and i know you've watched all of them.”

she laughed and didn’t deny it. just rolled over onto her back, one arm slung behind her head. “will you do some skincare on me?"

you flicked the faucet off and reached for a towel. “what am i, your servant?"

“you’re sleeping in my bed,” she pointed out, lazily. "you ought to be nice to me."

you turned, towel pressed to your chin. “you invited me.”

“i did,” she agreed. the look she gave you was unmistakable—open, fond, a little reverent.

you padded over and tossed the towel onto your overnight bag. the air between you crackled. ellie’s gaze tracked you the entire way.

she scooted over. you climbed in beside her.

there was a pause. your shoulder brushed hers. then, her fingers found your wrist under the covers, a gentle tap like a question.

you turned to face her. “you gonna be annoying if i kiss you again?”

her smile was slow and stupid and something close to relieved. “probably.”

you kissed her anyway.

this one lasted longer. and the next, even longer. not rushed, not frantic—just deliberate. exploratory. like neither of you were in a hurry now that the door had been opened.

her hand found your thigh. your knee nudged between hers.

she pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours. voice low, barely more than a breath: “i really like you.”

you blinked. something in your chest cracked open.

“yeah?” you whispered.

she nodded, eyes searching yours. “yeah. like… not just for streams or clips or whatever. i mean it.”

you smiled, soft and crooked. “good,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. then to her jaw. “'cause i kinda really like you too," you muttered, continuing to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.

she let herself sink back into the pillows as you shifted to straddle her, hands coming up to rest on your waist. "t-that's.... that's good. perfect. ideal, honestlaaah fuck—" the grip she had on your hipbones grew tighter as you sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone.

"you've got such a way with words, smellie."

"fuck off," she breathed out. "don't bring up stream shit when you're in bed with me."

"whatcha gonna do about it?"

she grunted, sliding one of her hands in between both of you to wiggle it underneath your sleep shorts. you gasped, feeling her fingers press up against the wet cotton of your underwear. "that. i'm gonna do that."

you reached down to grip her wrist and re-direct her hand so she was actually touching you beneath the fabric, "well, do a little more."

she groaned, her fingers sliding through the slick that met her there. "fuuuck, that's hot. guiding my hands 'n shit."

you huffed out a laugh that melded into a moan as her fingers fell into a quick pace, tight circles on your clit. "why are you— oh shit justlikethatyeah.." you gulped in a breath before continuing, "why are you fuckin' narrating our hookup right now?"

the angle was a little awkward and she could feel something in her wrist clicking with every swirl of her fingers but she would rather keel over and croak than stop right now.

the pain was irrelevant. especially when you were sitting up slightly to slide your t-shirt up and off and grab desperately at your own tits, manicured thumbs flicking nipples gone taut from the sudden temperature change.

and when you whined out a "fuuuck, ellie!" all tight and wiry and even better than she'd imagined on countless nights alone in that same bed with her hands shoved beneath her boxers, she couldn't help but nuzzle her head clumsily at your chest, nudging your hand away from your right breast with her forehead so she could replace your tugging fingers with her mouth.

your hips jerked forward and the now-free hand latched onto her shoulder for balance as you cried out, her lips pulling and teeth nicking just slightly before she soothed the peak with soft laps of her tongue.

"you like 'em played with, huh?" you could feel the vibration of her mumbling against the flesh of your boob.

"stop fucking talking, ellie. this is sex, not one of those slutty fanfictions people have been writing about us." you punctuated your words with fast firm rolls of your hips, now grinding your puffy clit into her palm as she fucked two long fingers steadily into you.

"yeah, well there's gonna be a whole lot more of those after that little stunt we pulled on stream earlier."

"i thought you said no stream talk in bed— ohhh, oh god. shit— fuck, 'm close."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" she was panting, damp puffs of air against your nipple interrupted occasionally by a haphazard suck or nibble. her wrist—aching by now—swiveled as her began to curl her fingers inside of you with purpose, the heel of her hand rubbing firmly against you.

"keep goin'— fuck keep talkin' to me. please don't stop."

"thought you wanted me to shut up? thought you said this wasn't some smutty one-shot, huh?"

the hand gripping her shoulder slid around to the base of her neck. you grabbed purchase on the short hairs there, tugging as she whimpered into you. "ellie if you don't talk me through it right now i sweartogod—"

"alright, alright! i gotcha, baby. cum for me. thaaaaat's it."

a loud moan punched out of you. “shit—fuck— 'm cumming.” your other palm left your own chest to clasp over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your sounds and she quickly moved the hand that was urging your twitching hips to grab your wrist and pull it away.

"hey, none of that. talking is encouraged now, remember?

"shut up." you gritted out through a groan, your hips jerking as your teeth caught on your bottom lip.

"alright, nevermind. not encouraged. copy that."

you tugged on her hair again to mash your lips together, effectively silencing her and sagging bonelessly against her as you came down from your high.

when the both of you finally parted, you looked down to see her mouth slack, head tilted back, and eyes so hazy you'd think she was the one who just came.

she blinked blearily up at you. "you're even bossier in bed than you are regularly. it's so sexy."

"if i hadn't told you to shut up so many times already, i would say it again."

she laughed out loud at that and you couldn't help but giggle back.

"how about i shut you up instead, yeah? put that mouth to work?"

you learned very quickly that she tended to be kind of squirmy when she was on the receiving end. it was as if she was unable to sit still in the onslaught of pleasure. honestly, it modeled how she was normally, always kind of twitchy and buzzing with energy.

you knew on future nights, you were going to revel in the experience of holding her down, pinning bucking hips to the mattress or firming your grasp on shaking thighs to keep them spread apart.

tonight, instead, you basked in the push and pull, chasing her with your mouth when she wriggled away and groaning in pleasure when she tugged you closer by your hair.

and when you slipped into a particularly good rhythm, hollowing your cheeks with every perfect pull of her clit into your mouth and lashing your tongue at the swollen nub, her hands scrambled to find purchase on something. anything. your sex-mussed hair, unraveled from the neat up-do you had put it in to prepare for bed. your bare, sweat-damp shoulders. and, finally, the perpetually messy sheets below her.

her left leg kicked out and she dug her heel into the mattress for leverage to thrust her hips up and up and up into you, her lower half rising so high you had to pull her by her bony hipbones back down so you could maintain the suction.

"fuuuh– ah, shit. i think i'm gonna—" she was propped up on her elbows now, fluttering eyes focused on you with a desperate gleam to them.

you worked her over with your mouth earnestly, keeping steady eye contact as she lifted a trembling hand, moving as if she was going to pull your head closer, bury your face even deeper in her.

but then those same eyes rolled back into her skull as she flopped back down, the hand falling to grip the sheets once again.

"fuck'mgonnacumbaby" she garbled out and the sight of her chest arching up made her tits look so pretty under her thin white tank top, you wished you had a free hand to reach up and tweak a nipple.

she let out a high-pitched, whispery whine that petered out into silence.

for a couple seconds, all that could be heard was the slurps as you lapped at her, and the hum of the fans from her pc in the corner of her room.

and then—

muffled groans as the strength of her closing thighs finally broke the grip you had on them and pressed against your ears. she wasn't good at staying still, but, apparently, she was even worse when she came, her body folding in on itself as she jerkily fucked her hips up into the heat of your mouth.

you let her fuck your face, your blunt nails dragging red lines down the sides of her thighs. the slight sting of pain grounded her, helping her ride out the waves and stopping her from getting too overwhelmed in the throes of an orgasm.

pulling your head back slightly, you alternated between soft, sticky kisses to her inner thighs and kitten licks at her entrance, cleaning her up and soothing her at the same time as she caught her breath.

"fuck. c'mere."

trembling hands cupped your face as she weakly tugged you toward her. you let her, shifting to settle into her side and throw a leg over her own. she sighed, wrapping her arm around you, pulling you even closer.

"whaaat?" she whined, craning her neck to glare when she felt you giggle. "why’re you laughin' at me?"

"because i know you’re about to try and convince me to go to sleep without washing my face again. and you know i can’t do that."

she didn’t answer — just flopped her head back on the pillow and shut her eyes tight, fake snoring loudly.

"ellie," you warned.

"can't talk. too busy snoozin'."

"my face is a mess, ellie. my hair too.”

"yeah, well. maybe you should've thought about this before you made me cum so hard i couldn't breathe. i absolutely can not move now, let alone clean up!"

you sighed, pushing yourself up off the bed — or trying to. the arm she had wrapped around you tightened in protest.

“ellie, seriously.”

“you can’t move either! i want you to stay. please? pretty please with a cherry on top my most gracious streamer and fortnite carry god?”

you shot her a glare and she grinned, clearly sensing how flimsy your resolve was.

“just five more minutes. then we’ll get up. wash our faces, brush our teeth. hell, i’ll even floss for you tonight, baby. bought those little sticks you’re always ranting about in those hygiene haul videos and everything.”

you huffed. wiped the back of your hand across the bottom half of your face like it would do anything. huffed again.

“fine. but seriously. five minutes. then we’re going.”

you woke up the next morning with a sticky face, ellie drooling on your collarbone, and your phone nearly buzzing off the nightstand from the amount of notifications you'd received post-stream.

twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: eating victory crowns for breakfast 🥱

she was streaming fortnite the next morning, acting like nothing had happened. hoodie up, drawstrings pulled tighter than usual to ensure the hickeys you’d sucked into her skin the night before were thoroughly hidden.

she was focused—well, pretending to be—talking about the latest installment of some comic she was obsessed with while looting in-game and ignoring the onslaught of questions in chat.

elliebutinallcaps: WHERE IS SHE?? NotElliesAlt: so you’re avoiding the MASSIVE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM? elliesdischarge: she’s kneeling under the desk, be honest message deleted by moderator macetotheface: she’s prob busy making breakfast in ur hoodie altaccnumber29: blink twice if ur post-nut right now message deleted by moderator

“okay, so—” she was mid-rant when she paused, squinting at the chat. “jesus. y’all are crazy today. can we just play the game?”

messages were flying so fast her eyes couldn’t keep up:

ellieuseslightmode: BRING HER BACKKKKKK ellieclips: we literally heard the makeout. you cannot gaslight us. v4nitymirror: wait did she leave?? is she even still there 😭 maybemaddie: GUYS WHAT IF THEY FOUGHT AFTER. what if it was a drunk kiss and now it’s awkward.

she was sorting through her load-out after an intense fight she nearly lost against a surfer jonesy when it happened:

pastaluvrrr: hiiiii girlfriend 😽

she froze.

the click of her mouse stopped mid-action. the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to react, but the flush across her face betrayed her instantly.

“oh my god,” she mumbled, shrinking into her hoodie. “why are you like this.”

chat, consequently, blew the fuck up.

elliesyumyum: GIRLFRIEND????? GIRLFRIEND. tima0911: please say this vod will be on youtube. PLEASE. elliethrows4me: NOOOOO SHE TOOK MY BITCH tryqt: not the hard launch via twitch chat LMAOOOO ayayayaim: SOMEONE CLIP THIS ellieclips: OH MY FUCKING GOD???

ellie tilted back in her chair, red spreading all the way down her neck. “i dunno why she’s lurking in chat when she’s literally downstairs,” she muttered, trying (and failing) to sound unbothered.

on cue, soft footsteps padded into the room. then came your voice, faint off-screen:

“i was making a matcha.”

the camera unfocused and refocused as you leaned into frame and planted a wet kiss on her mouth.

no warning. just one hand on her shoulder, the other still holding your drink. it was passionate, unashamed, and unnecessarily long.

“does that answer everyone’s questions?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

ellie blinked at you, dazed. then turned to chat—

only to see her character had died while she was busy making out with you.

“awesome,” she mumbled, cheeks ruddy. “you got me killed. hope you’re proud of yourself.”

jmattsz: holy tomato face mikuirl: THEYRE SO GROSS I LOVE THEM looten_scooten: i just took so many screenshots im out of storage iclutchforpastalover: MAMA Y PAPA

you breezed out of frame again like nothing had even happened. ellie cleared her throat. “okay. uhhhh, alright... so!”

chousey203: any day now…. elliebutinallcaps: SPIT IT OUT GIRL ecam96: 100% just creamed her pants message deleted by a moderator slaystation_: DUDE UR SO RED

“mods please,” she begged, hiding her face in her hands. “put chat in emote only. i’m not doing this.”

topnoodle44: 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈 boostedbytenshi: 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 usuallylurkin: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩💓🍑🍆💦 ellieuseslightmode: 😘😘👁️👁️

this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!

[vahnilla]

Can you do reader strapping Ellie for the first time??

you trust me, right?

strapping loser!ellie for the first time

cw: smut, fingering (e!receiving), strap-on sex (e!receiving), consensual first time, sub!ellie, dom!reader, emotional intimacy, praise, dirty talk, light teasing, aftercare.

the lights are dim. just the little lamp on your nightstand casting a soft gold glow across the bedroom; warm, hazy, like molasses. ellie’s curled up awkwardly on the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the sheets, in one of your old band tees, which she’s tugging down so hard it’s practically at her knees.

she’s fidgeting. which is… not abnormal. but this is different. her cheeks are pink. she keeps chewing the inside of her cheek. her ears are burning.

you’re standing near the dresser, adjusting the harness. slowly. carefully.

you shoot her a look in the mirror.

“you okay?”

she nods, a little too fast. then immediately tries to play it cool by stretching out her legs, like she’s not clearly about to combust.

“yeah,” she says. “just…yeah. totally fine. so good. not nervous. at all.”

you raise your eyebrows.

“ellie.”

she swallows. looks down at her hands, clenched in her lap.

“i’m just, um… thinking about the logistics.”

you fight a smile. walk over, slow and measured, the weight of the harness between your hips making her eyes flicker everywhere but your face.

“the logistics,” you repeat.

she nods seriously. “yeah. like. physics-wise. i was just thinking, like - do you go slow or… medium-slow? and then, like… do i hold your thighs, or do i grab the sheets, or like… your shoulders?” she squints, then gestures vaguely at your waist. “also that thing looks big.”

you laugh, gently - not to mock, but because she’s so her it hurts.

“ellie,” you say, easing a knee onto the mattress beside her, then the other, until you’re straddling her lap. you place your hands lightly on her shoulders. “you want this, right?”

her eyes finally meet yours. they’re wide, green, glassy.

“i do,” she says, quietly. “so bad.”

you lean in and kiss her - soft and slow, tasting the nerves on her lips, the anticipation buzzing just underneath. you kiss her until her hands finally, finally settle on your waist. until she’s sighing into it, needy and clumsy, like she doesn’t know what to do with her mouth unless you guide it.

when you pull back, she’s flushed. breathing heavier.

“okay,” you murmur. “so how about we go slow? i’ll check in. you tell me what feels good. i’ll take care of you.”

her face melts at that.

you kiss the tip of her nose.

“and if it gets to be too much, we stop. you say the word, i’m off you in a second. got it?”

she nods. but you wait.

“words, ellie.”

she clears her throat. “got it. yes.”

you lean close, lips brushing her ear. “good girl.”

she whimpers. actually whimpers. her fingers tighten around your waist.

you kiss your way down her jaw, down her throat, her pulse racing under your tongue. she tilts her head back with a stuttered little gasp as you ease the shirt up, baring inch after inch of her soft, freckled stomach.

“you’re so hot,” you murmur, brushing your mouth over her collarbone. “look at you. all pink. just from me strapping up.”

she lets out a noise - a mixture of a laugh and a moan - and mumbles, “don’t tease me.”

you grin. “never.”

but you are teasing her, and she knows it. you take your time stripping her down - slowly removing her shirt, dragging your fingertips up the backs of her thighs as you ease off her boxers. you kiss every exposed inch of skin like it’s holy, the dip of her stomach, the jut of her hipbone, the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she wants you most.

when you finally slide a hand between her legs, she gasps - already soaked.

you glance up. “jesus, ellie…”

she buries her face in her elbow. “shut up.”

you dip a finger in. she clenches, moaning into her arm. her thighs twitch.

you curl it, just once, then slowly ease in another.

she bites her lip, panting.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you murmur, lowering your head to kiss her inner thigh. “just wanna get you ready, okay?”

“mhm,” she hums, voice shaky. “okay. yeah. ready.”

ten minutes later, ellie’s flat on her back, legs spread, propped up on your pillows. you’re above her, braced on your knees, strap already slick with lube. her hands are clenched in the sheets, eyes fixed on your hips like they’re something divine. or terrifying. or both.

you palm her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“you sure?”

she nods again, but it’s shaky. so you dip down and kiss her again, slower this time - letting her relax under you, reminding her she’s safe.

and then - gently, slowly - you press the tip in.

she gasps. full-body shudder. one hand immediately flies to your arm.

“holy shit,” she breathes. “it’s-it’s not bad, it’s just…fuck, it’s a lot.”

you pause.

“too much?”

she shakes her head quickly. “no, no, just…keep going. just slow. please.”

you stroke her cheek with your thumb, easing another inch in.

“you’re taking it so well, els.”

she whines - actually whines - eyes fluttering.

you keep going, gentle, until you’re fully in and her breath is coming in hot, shaky bursts. her legs tremble around your hips.

“fuuuuck,” she groans. “you’re-you’re inside me, oh my god.”

you laugh softly and lean down, brushing your nose against hers.

“you’re doing so good.”

you start to move. slowly. rolling your hips in a smooth, shallow rhythm.

ellie moans - soft and helpless. her hands scramble for purchase, grabbing your back, your ass, your shoulders, like she doesn’t know where to hold on.

you keep your eyes on her face, watching the way she unravels under you, the way her jaw drops, her eyelids flutter, the pink flush creeping down her chest.

“fuck,” she mumbles, voice cracking. “this is so fucking hot.”

you kiss her neck, biting gently at the pulse point.

“you’re hot,” you murmur. “so desperate for me.”

“i’m not-!” she starts, but it melts into a moan as you grind down. her whole body arches up into you.

you press a hand to her lower stomach, gently keeping her in place.

“that feel good, baby?”

“y-yeah,” she breathes. “fuck. just-don’t stop.”

you start to fuck her for real, hips rocking harder, thrusts deeper. the strap glides effortlessly, slick with her arousal, the rhythm messy but so good. you grind down, letting the base of it rub you just enough to make you feel her.

ellie is a wreck underneath you. sweaty, panting, moaning shamelessly now. she’s babbling nonsense, “fuck, oh my god, you’re so hot, you’re so good at this, i can’t-i’m gonna-fuck-“

you lean down and grab her chin, turning her head to face you.

“eyes on me.”

her eyes flick up, barely able to focus.

“good girl,” you whisper, dragging your hips hard and slow. “taking my cock so well.”

she whimpers, almost folds in half. her legs lock around you.

you keep fucking her. letting the rhythm build. her nails dig into your back. her voice is breaking with every thrust.

“i’m gonna come,” she gasps. “i-fuck-please-can i-?”

you smile, panting against her mouth.

“yeah, baby. come for me. let me see.”

it only takes a few more strokes and she shatters. back arching, thighs clenching, hands flying to her face as she cries out and comes, shaking under you, moaning so loud you’re sure your neighbors heard.

you slow down, fucking her through it, coaxing her down from the high. kissing her forehead, her cheek, her temple.

when her breathing finally evens out, you ease out slowly and toss the harness aside. she’s boneless. pink and flushed and wrecked in the best way.

you lie down beside her, curling an arm around her waist.

“still alive?”

she mumbles something into your shoulder that sounds like “i saw god.”

you laugh and kiss her forehead.

“you okay?”

she nods, sleepy, already nuzzling into you.

“that was…” she trails off. “so much better than the logistics.”

you grin. “yeah?”

sh opens one bleary eye.

“you’re never allowed to fuck me like that again unless i have a full day to recover.”

you smirk. “noted.”

“…also do it again tomorrow.”

you laugh. pull her closer. and press one last kiss to her flushed, perfect face.

perm taglist: @yasmilks , @frosttbitten , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie , @celiacallsitcasual , @gurlbownerr , @l0veylace , @bluminescent-moon , @oatmatchalatte , @hitmehardmommy , @iadorefineshyt , @jksevendays , @liztreez , @clemrules , @yourl0caltrash , @rootytootymeow , @thebadwritersposts , @vanillacigarettes777 , @soltwent , @softqirls , @lesbian-useless , @lovewitchss , @abigail-andersons-wife <3

[vahnilla]

needy ! sub ! ellie

cw ! sub!ellie. oral (r receiving.) desperation. begging. ellie cums untouched. teasing. a little power play. loser!ellie-ish. requested. had to re-upload sorryy.

you're slouched over your laptop, busy answering emails while the screen's dull glow bites into your eyes, adding tenfold to the ache burrowed deep within your skull. the gentle clack of your keyboard is the only sound in the room — until the bedroom door creaks open.

ellie steps in, flushed and disheveled like she's going through withdrawal. not that you notice though, you don't even look up. "els, i'm busy."

she dampens her bottom lip with a quick swipe of her tongue. "i know," she says, voice small. careful. she crosses the room slowly, coming to stand behind you. you keep working, eyes glued to the screen as she pushes your hair aside and presses a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear. you shiver, but your hands don't stop moving.

"i know you're stressed," she murmurs, "and i know i shouldn't bother you, but.." her voice trails, growing quieter. you sigh gently through your nose, calm but tired. "but what, ellie?"

behind you, ellie lets out a shaky breath, followed by a broken whimper. "please let me eat you out," she whispers. your fingers pause over the keys. for a second. then you start typing again, like you didn't hear her.

she leans in closer, kissing your jaw, "please," she repeats, softer this time. "you don't have to do anything. you don't have to stop working. i'll stay under the desk — i'll be quiet. please? i need to taste you." her voice breaks off into a soft, desperate whine.

you swallow. hard.

"i've been thinking about it all day," she continues, and her voice cracks a little. "about how you sound when you're close. about your thighs around my head. i need it, baby."

a few seconds of silence follows.

then ellie gently pulls the chair back, just enough to slip beneath the desk. she sinks to her knees in front of you, hands resting on your thighs like she's trying to keep herself in check. "i'll be good," she breathes, kissing your thighs once, then again. "please let me."

ellie's breath is warm against your skin. her hands tighten ever so slightly on your thighs, like she's bracing for a rejection.

instead, you shift down in the chair. just a little. just enough. "you better be quiet," you say, half-teasing. your thighs part slowly, giving her the space she begged for. "i will," she promises instantly, breathless. "i swear, i will — just, fuck, thank you."

you smirk to yourself. who thanks someone for this? ellie was beyond desperate, but god, she's fucking cute.

she mouths over the fabric of your panties, slow and reverent. her fingers trail up your thighs, pushing them further apart until they're draped over the arm rests.

she starts with slow, desperate kitten licks over your panties. she's trying to keep herself at bay. to stay quiet while you work. but she's too needy. kitten licks progress into long, eager strokes of her tongue against the damp fabric, like she's trying to soak up whatever she can. but it's not enough. you can hear it in the tiny whines caught in her throat. see it in the way her brows draw together, her tongue flattening harder, sloppier, like she's getting frustrated.

"fuck," she pants against the cloth, her breath hot and heady. "i can't— baby, i can't taste you enough." she drags her tongue over the wet spot again, but it's still not satisfying her. not even close.

her spit clings to your puffy clit through the fabric, and every brush of her tongue sends little shocks up your thighs, making it harder to focus on your waiting emails. the blinking cursor taunts you, but your brain is too fogged up with heat and pressure and the soft, helpless sounds coming from under the desk. you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave more, too.

her fingers curl around the band of your panties, tugging the fabric aside. her breath catches when she gets her first look at your soaked cunt. "fuck," she pants quietly, hot air fanning over you. she's talking to herself more than to you. she leans in and kisses your clit before swirling her tongue to gather the slick clinging to it. it makes you clench around nothing. "taste so good— fuck," she grunts.

she's slurping, spitting, and licking like she doesn't know what to do first. her tongue moves everywhere, messy and wild, like she's trying to drink you in.

you glance down at her. her eyes are half-lidded, glazed over, mouth messy and pink and already slick with spit and arousal. she looks wrecked, and she's barely even started.

"ellie," you warn softly. "you're being loud." it's more teasing than anything. you gave up on the emails a while ago. "i know," she gasps, pulling back just enough to speak. "i'm sorry — i'm trying, i just— fuck, you taste so good, i can't think-" the words tumble out of her in one breathless stream, and they're barely past her lips before her mouth is back on you. her head moves side to side, yeah, she's desperate for that taste.

one of your hands drift down into her hair, fingers threading through before you tug, just enough to make her gasp. "quiet," you murmur, low and stern, letting her think you're actually capable of stopping her now. she nods quickly, mouth sealing over your clit again. you feel her whimper into your cunt like an apology. like she'll be quiet now.

but she won't. she's too far gone.

her hands are gripping your thighs so tight it boarders on bruising. you let your head fall back, mouth parting in a quiet gasp as her tongue works faster. she's not methodical anymore. not careful. she's ravenous. her tongue moves like she wants to memorize you with her mouth. that faint numbness is already spreading through your core and thighs. god, ellie is skilled — but more than that, she's hungry.

every time she pulls back for a breath, she's muttering something half-coherent against your skin: "so fuckin' sweet-mmph- your pussy's s'- fucking perfect-" her words blur into whines. you push her hair back, just to see her glassy eyes. she's totally gone, hips rutting against nothing but the carpet. you just know the poor girl's soaked through her boxers.

ellie is pussy-drunk. helpless.

and she hasn't even made you cum yet.

she shifts just enough — lips wrapping around your achy clit, sucking gently before dragging her tongue in tight circles, right there, over and over. she moans when your thighs twitch, when your hips start to rise. like she knows what's coming. like she's proud she's the one doing it.

"f-fuck, ellie-"

that's all it takes. pleasure slams into you, white-hot and blinding. your thighs clamp around her head and she groans into you, mouth never stopping. your thighs squeeze harder, and then she falls apart.

it starts with choked little gasps against your cunt, then her body shutters — shoulders tightening, hips jerking helplessly against the air as she cums untouched. her moan is high and broken, muffled by your pussy.

you feel her lose it, crying quietly into your cunt, still licking even as her body grows weak. she's gone. you're shaking.

after the haze, ellie stays tucked between your thighs, lazily kissing your inner thighs. you're slowly getting back into the rhythm of answering emails, fingers sluggish on the keys, brain still foggy with bliss.

ellie's so fucking good at making you cum. so good at de-stressing you. and honestly? you have no idea why your friends never believe you.

tag @k1utzymitry

[vahnilla]

trigger warning: no happy trail.

[vahnilla]

⋆˚ Cherry Engine ⋆˚✿˖°

overview ❋ Your girlfriend, Ellie, is a mechanic. For your birthday she bought you your dream car, the car she would fix up for you and make perfect. Your way of showing gratitude was sexual favors—somehow that came back to bite you. But how could you possibly complain?

warnings ❋ fem!reader, sub!reader, dom!ellie, established relationship, vibrator usage (ellie & reader receiving), strap usage (r!receiving), degrading & praise, swearing, pleasure control, kinky sex + tender sex yay!, idk yall…some filthy shit

word count ❋ 5k !!

You and Ellie��s relationship was nothing short of chaotic, ever since the two of you met. You met through her work, since she fixed up your rolling disaster of a car that was probably passed down through three generations.

Not only did she give you a discount, the way her arms looked while she worked on your car had you hot and bothered. The way her baby hairs clung to her forehead, the way she’d wipe the sweat off her face with a rag or the back of her hand—oh yeah, you were down bad!

One thing led to another, and suddenly you were fucking in her much nicer car. You were never one for car sex, but that woman truly changed the game for you. You wrote your number on the panties and gave it to her, an object she kept in a special drawer and often said she wanted in a resin cast. How ridiculous was that? Was that some sort of mechanic thing?

Ellie was everything you wanted in a woman. She was nice, extremely generous, funny, hot, and so u predictable that you found yourself wanting to figure her out. She quickly became the highlight of your life, more so when you moved in with her.

On the day of your birthday, Ellie surprised you with your dream car: a cherry-red 67 mustang. How she obtained this car was beyond you—some mechanic wizard shit for sure. Nonetheless, you were over the moon.

Ellie put so much of her time into that car. She made it perfect for you, even denying some clients just so she could have more time for it. It was the most generous gift you’ve ever received, and it only made you fall for her more.

A few days after the car was all fixed up, you and Ellie had a date planned. You were getting ready in the bathroom, putting on lipgloss and wiping away the mascara you somehow already smudged. You were wearing a black dress, a dress that Ellie loved to see you in the most.

Ellie walked up behind you, hands already finding your waist. She made eye contact with you in the mirror, one side of her lips upturned. “You look so good, babe.” she said, holding you close to her. You could feel the familiar warmth of her body, a comforting warmth you route yourself addicted to.

You smiled in response, your free hand finding one of hers. Her other hand drew small shapes on your hip, juniper eyes glued to yours in the reflection. You looked back at your own eyes, half of your focus on the criminally awful job you did on your mascara. You quickly grabbed a q-tip and fixed it. “Thanks, baby. I’m wearing your favorite dress.” you replied, voice soft and almost seductive.

Ellie hummed, burying her face in your neck and planting a tender kiss on your flesh. “I know, and you look sexy as hell.” she complimented, “You’ll look sexy when I take it off later, too.”

A small laugh fell from your lips, and you started to struggle while putting on your lipgloss. It was almost impossible when she was kissing up your jawline. You pulled your head away, trying to save your skin from Ellie’s attacks. “Right, later. I’m not sitting in a restaurant with hickeys all over my neck.”

Ellie laughed, grabbing your jaw and turning your head to the mirror. “Sure, baby.” she replied, squishing your cheeks a bit and listening to you complain. She turned your head towards her, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. You kissed back of course, eyes closing and all.

You were going to pull away so this didn’t lead elsewhere, but Ellie beat you to it. She brought her thumb up to your face, wiping away the smeared lipgloss. “By the way..” she started, “I want to take your car to the restaurant. But I’d like to drive it.”

You had a puzzled look on your face, eyebrow raised and eyes blinking repeatedly in confusion. “How come you want to drive it? Not gonna let me drive my own car?” you questioned, though there wasn’t any trace of annoyance in your tone. “You must be super jealous of my sexy car.”

Ellie patted your cheek tenderly, “Jus’ wanna try it out. I need to make sure everything is working before I feel comfortable with you driving it.” she explained, tone laced with something like hesitance. Though, there was something else—something hidden that you couldn’t exactly read. But you thought nothing of it, that was her whole brand!

You hummed and nodded, your face puzzled but trusting. “Sure, babe. If that helps you feel comfortable.”

A few minutes later, you were back in the bedroom. You had your new purse open on the bed, that way you could put some essentials in it. You didn’t hear Ellie come up behind you—didn’t need to. She hugged you from behind again, a gesture you had grown used to.

Her hands were on you, though you just kept stuffing emergency pads and tampons into your purse. “What’re you being so touchy for?” you asked, the corners of your lips turning up “Not complaining, but you’re more touchy than usual. Especially before a date. Are you ovulating?”

Ellie didn’t answer your question, she kissed your shoulder and let her hands rest on your front. Then, she finally said something. “Hey, remember that time I was fixing up your car and you snuck up behind me?” she asked

You raised an eyebrow, trying to turn your head back a bit to look at her. “Which time?”

“The time you shoved that bullet vibrator inside me when I was wearing shorts.”

You nearly choked, you almost forgot you did that! The fact she was bringing that up made you worry—so you decided to act innocent.

Well, as innocent as a guilty woman could act.

“You told me to try it out on you whenever.” you retorted, making no attempts to pull away from her. You didn’t have to look behind you to see that she was smiling. You could feel it in the way the air shifted. The shift in energy between the two of you with your bodies so close.

“You’re right, baby.” she murmured in your ear, sending tingles down your spine. “But while I’m working on your gift? Such a bad girl.”

You hummed and shut your purse, picking it up. But Ellie took it from your hands, setting it to the side. She then pushed you down a bit, bending you over on the bed. You protested in confusion, trying to look back at her.

“Shh, be quiet for me, sweetheart. I’m gonna do something, so just stay still, yeah?” she whispered, but you could feel the weight of her words pressing on you. If you weren’t already wet—you definitely were now. You heard her shuffle through her pockets, not even being able to fathom what she was going to do. But you couldn’t help but feel a bit excited, it was that feeling of uncertainty she provided that you loved.

You then felt something cold against the open part of your dress, though you couldn’t make out what it was. Before you could further question anything, she grabbed the hem of your dress and hiked it up. You yelped in surprise, body jolting in response to the cold air.

That’s when you felt it, her fingers pulling your panties to the side and pressing something against your folds. She scoffed behind you, but it was out of amusement and most likely excitement. “Ugh, so wet for me like always. And I haven’t even done anything.”

Right. As if she wasn’t perfectly being touchy to get you wet. But what did she need you wet for? To push this thing inside you?

Ellie then started to push it inside you. You groaned softly at the feeling, not completely ready. But you let her keep sliding it in, despite your initial confusion. Now you knew exactly what it was. The bullet vibrator—the same one you shoved inside Ellie not so long ago. You involuntarily clenched around it, even though it wasn’t turned on the small amount of friction had you craving more.

“That’s it, baby. Feel that?” she asked, patting your lower back softly. “If I remember correctly, you said I could always try it on you too.” There was a heavy weight to the room now, lust intertwined with excitement and nerves.

“But this is a new one. Just for you.”

A new one? Did she seriously buy another one? Now you were really confused. More so, since it wasn’t already vibrating. Did she put a dead vibrator inside you? What the hell was going on?

Ellie pulled your dress back down into place, leaning over you and pressing her front against your ass. She was practically laying on you, but it got you so needy for some reason. She placed her phone in front of you, calloused fingers holding it tightly. “Look at this, baby.” she rasped lowly in your ear, clicking a button on some app.

That’s when it hit you: vibrations. You immediately gasped and lowered your head, breath caught in your throat. “F-fuck..Ellie!” you whined, both in surprise and from the pleasure. You gripped the sheets involuntarily, the wet sound between your legs was a bit embarrassing. So kind of her to start you off on one of the highest settings.

“Cool toy, huh?” she asked, finally turning it off. She rubbed your cheek softly from behind, loving the way you panted. She turned off her phone, getting off you and pulling you up so you could stand.

Your thighs were already trembling, so you leaned back against her in support. “Ellie, we are going somewhere. Somewhere nice, might I add.” you tried to scold. “And a whole app? That’s ridiculous!”

Ellie just patted your shoulder and turned you around. She had an innocent smile on her face, it was cute how giddy she looked. Oh, how exciting. Getting to shove a vibrator in your girlfriend before a date. Now you were actually nervous, what if she turned it on while you were eating and you choked? Before you could warn her of this very possible disaster—she spoke first.

“Well, we have to get going. Get your shoes, baby.” she said, nodding towards the closet. You gave her a weak scowl, walking towards your closet to get your waiting heels anyway.

When you bent down to grab your heels, you felt it again. The buzz inside your pussy had an effect on your brain too. Your knees almost gave out, forcing you to grab onto the wall to hold yourself up as your legs shook beneath you. You let out a weak moan, looking back at her and trying to look mad. She laughed behind you, quickly turning it off. “Sorry, sweetheart. Couldn’t help myself.” she giggled, putting her phone in her pocket. “Don’t get too mad at me, I’m buying you dinner.”

You scoffed and slipped your feet into your heels, trying to act angry still as to conceal your nerves and the twinge of excitement settled in your stomach. “I’ll be as mad as I want, thanks.” you replied angrily, grabbing your purse and walking ahead of her.

In the car, you sat calmly and looked at the road ahead. You were humming some song the radio wasn’t even playing and admiring the interior of the car. It was everything you dreamed up, you could see the cherry-red coloring on the hood of the car, making you giggle a bit. Mainly because Ellie got you something she knew you’d love, something she knew she could make special for you. That kind of thought meant a lot, it made you feel seen and heard. Because she remembered, because she worked so hard just to make you happy.

That kind of love was so pure and so raw it was almost overbearing. But it was the kind of overbearing you craved and adored—but only with Ellie. You felt so warm and light that you completely forgot about the toy inside you. That is until you shifted.

Ellie looked over for a split second, she always struggled to keep her eyes on the road. How could she? She had her beautiful girlfriend beside her in the sexiest dress known to man. “What’re you giggling for? Like your present?” she questioned, as if it weren’t obvious.

You hummed and nodded, smile plastered on your face. “Mm, yeah.” you couldn’t even hold back the happy grin on your face. Didn’t need to.

Ellie loved seeing you all happy. But was she about to ruin this moment? Absolutely. But..she was letting you marinate in your excitement. For now.

When the next red light came, Ellie grabbed her phone. You thought nothing of it, assuming she was just checking a test or something. Until you felt it yet again, that overwhelming pleasurable feeling that would’ve knocked you off your feet if you weren’t sitting down. Those vibrations deep in your cunt that sucked all the air out of your lungs. She started it off low, as if it was some warm up. Your hand flew over your mouth, thighs squirming ever so slightly as if it would make the feeling stop. But it didn’t, and you didn’t want it to.

“Ellie, are you serious? I’m gonna be soaked by the time we get there!” you complained, though it wasn’t a real complaint. It felt so good, the pleasure was measurable but still so, so good. You were pulsing, your panties and the clenching of your hole keeping the toy nestled deep inside your aching pussy.

From the driver’s seat there was a laugh. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.” she replied, tone cool and level in a way that made you feel slightly insecure. The light was green, so Ellie stepped on the gas pedal again and focused on the road. Well, half-focused on the road.

You sat there helplessly, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure throughout your whole body. Before you could even plead for more, she turned the frequency up. You jolted up, a weak cry crawling out of your throat. You grabbed onto the armrest, the jump in feeling heightening all your senses at once. Your nerves were on fire, your whole brain felt like it was shutting down.

“E-Ellie!” you cried out, hand scrambling to her forearm. You panted heavily, squeezing your eyes shut. No matter how much you shifted your body and squirmed, the feeling never left.

Ellie sighed, struggling to not give you her full attention. “Oh, I know baby.” she cooed, smiling when you desperately grabbed her arm. “I know you can take it, but squeezing your thighs together won’t help you.”

“Shouldn’t you..g-get off your phone and focus on the road?” you challenged, voice coming out weaker than you had intended.

“Shouldn’t you be a good girl and take it like you said you would? Keep mouthing off and see what happens.” she threatened, you knew all too well that her words weren’t entirely empty. Before you could even try to come up with an argue, the tires of your car hit a pothole—sending your body up a bit. The toy moved inside you, as if it was a little thrust.

You gasped and dug your nails into Ellie’s tatted forearm. “F-fuck!—“ you whined, your thighs starting to shake. It was all too much, you were overwhelmed in the best way possible. The toy worked your sopping pussy just like it was supposed to, but it felt so perfect. Ellie turned it up again, all you could do was let out weak strings of moans and pleads.

“Ellie..please. I can’t do it!” you said between pathetic moans. But you didn’t want her to turn it down, you were in too much bliss. You tried to shift again, but it was useless. Your pussy was spasming around the toy, even though you hadn’t came yet.

Ellie clicked her tongue, one side of her lips more upturned than the other. Her green eyes were focused on the road, but her thoughts were aimed elsewhere. They were aimed to the right of her, to her girlfriend who was squirming and whining in the car she bought. Moaning like a bitch in the car she fixed, to say that was an ego boost wasn’t strong enough. “Is that really how you feel? You’re moaning like a slut and begging me. You want less?”

“Okay, baby. I’ll turn it down since it’s too much for you.”

You let out a sob, followed by surprisingly zero tears. You shook your head feverishly, eyes flying open. “No, no! Don’t turn it down!” you cried, squeezing your thighs together as if the toy would fall out because of her words. As if she’d pull it out of you and take away the pleasure you so desperately needed.

“Ask properly and I’ll consider it.” she replied almost immediately, looking away from the road since there was another red light. Her eyes zeroed in on your form. You had a fucked out look on your face; lips parted and eyes hazy. She loved when you looked like that—in fact, she craved it. Ellie would do absolutely anything to get that expression on your pretty face.

Some kind of weak noise left you, you swallowed hard and tried to form a coherent thought. “P-please don’t turn it off. Please!” you pleaded desperately, breath coming out in short pants and whines.

“Yeah? You wanna cum, huh?” she murmured, earning her a nod on your behalf. Ellie leaned in a bit closer to you just so she could see your pretty face. She hummed and stepped on the gas again, looking forward. It was a struggle looking away from you, you looked heavenly.

“Touch yourself, baby. You have two hands, don’t you?” She urged, listening to you whine and heating you squirm on the seat.

Yet, you complied. Your free hand wandered south, fingers racing to your puffy clit underneath your beautiful dress. You found the nub, putting pressure on it and jolting up. You were already overwhelmed—adding this had you in shambles. “Oh god—oh!” you whimpered pathetically, drawing small circles over your clit.

The noises you were making were downright sinful, they poured out of you like a running faucet. She hit another pothole—maybe on purpose—either way you jolted. Your nails dug into her arm, you didn’t notice the change in frequency until you nearly choked on your moan when it happened. She was turning it up and down, toying with you. Your fingers stuttered on your clit, brain short circuiting.

“You’re such a dirty girl. I want you to make these nice, new seats so messy.” Ellie groaned, her hands involuntarily gripping the wheel tighter.

You were getting close, your body was already preparing for it. Juices were dripping down from your sopping hole, getting the seat a bit sticky—just how she wanted. You removed your fingers from from your cunt. You angled your hips and pushed your pussy against the seat a bit to get friction on your clit, there was an embarrassing squelch from how soaked you were. It was like an endless stream, along with your moans. The vibrations coursing through your sobbing pussy were satisfying in the way that felt euphoric. Even though you had a death grip on Ellie’s arm—you felt bliss.

“E-Ellie..Els, baby. I’m close…” you moaned, moving to squeeze your thighs together again. You were a mess, and your girlfriend loved it.

Ellie side glanced you, biting her lip to control herself. The urge to pull over and fuck your brains out was so, so tempting. But something about having to control herself was hot too. She took one hand off the wheel, placing it on your thigh and spreading your legs apart a bit. She wanted you to soak the seat, to soak the brand new seats of car that was yours. The spot she manufactured for you.

“Oh, baby. If you wanna cum you have to ask for permission. You know that.” she cooed, rubbing your thigh softly.

A whine left your throat, especially when she turned down the toy by one notch—then two—then three. You could feel it, but it still had a strong hold on you.

“Baby, please? Please, I wanna cum. I-I need it!” you begged between pants, when you looked over you could see the smirk she tried to bite back. She failed, a lopsided grin blessing her already attractive features.

“Yeah? Do you deserve it?” she questioned, pointer tapping against your inner thigh. She collected a small dribble of slick, it stuck to her finger and stretched a bit, but she didn’t look.

You blinked and whined again, squirming an unfair amount. “I don’t know..just please let me!” you pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

“You don’t know? Try again, sweetheart.” She turned the vibrator down, ignoring your pleas and cries. It was almost at the lowest setting now—she was just torturing you at this point.

A single tear fell from your eyes, it was from pure desperation. “I-I deserve it! Please, please, please!” you cried, the neediness in your tone was painfully obvious.

“You deserve what? You can’t be shy when you’re begging to cum while having a vibrator inside you.” she teased, turning it back up a few notches.

When you felt her turn it up, you got desperate. All the shame and embarrassment seemed to seep out with your slick. “I deserve to cum..please!”

Ellie groaned and bit the inside of her cheek, her on clit throbbing against her pants. “Good girl, go ahead.”

With a sharp cry and the intense squirming of your thighs, you came. Your back arched off the chair, pleads of her name falling from your lips. To say the seat was a mess was an understatement. But you didn’t care, and neither did she. You panted, feeling the toy ultimately turn off after she let you ride it out.

But after seeing you cum—it hit her. She needed her hands on you, she needed to fuck you in this car, she needed that contact so bad. She needed to watch you crumble, just the way she liked. The thoughts swarmed her head, though they weren’t unwelcome.

Ellie couldn’t take it anymore and pulled over on the side of the road—though, it was pretty secluded. When she looked over, she saw your beautiful expression. Your half lidded eyes, your parted lips, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead—all of it. It was that expression she loved to see so much. The expression that fueled her to keep going.

“You’re being so good, baby.” she praised, the hand that was on your thigh came up to your head. She stroked your hair softly, then moved to cup your cheek so you were looking at her. If there was one gesture Ellie loved—it was eye contact. She loved your pretty eyes focusing on hers, especially since your eyes were just so expressive.

Ellie rubbed your cheek softly, and you looked at her with hazy eyes. “Take the toy out. I’m gonna prepare something.” she ordered softly, the teasing in her voice was gone now. She seemed more tender now, as if she just wanted to take care of you.

You obeyed. hand sliding between your legs and pushing your panties to the side. You groaned as you reached into your pussy with two fingers and pulled the toy out. You were overstimulated, causing another stray tear to roll down your cheek.

When you looked back over, Ellie had one of her straps attached to her body.

Did she keep one in the center console? This was your car, what the hell!

Ellie smiled and patted her lap, urging you to come sit. But before you found move, she grabbed the little bullet vibrator from your hands and slid it down her pants. She placed it against her clit, panties keeping it secure there. A groan escaped her when she felt your leftover wetness slosh against her clit.”

“Cmere, baby.” she ordered, patting her lap again. You listened like before, your thighs shaking as you crawled over the center console to get to her. You hovered over the silicone, staring at her with hazy, lust filled eyes. Ellie stared back, not blinking even once. She placed a hand on your hips, trying to urge you to start.

You blinked and nodded, putting your hands on her shoulders before sinking down on her dick. Your lips parted, head tipping back as you sucked her in favorably. Ellie groaned at the sight, reaching for her phone and turning on the vibrator.

The both of you moaned at the same time, and she finally placed both hands on your hips to keep you stable. “That’s it, baby. You’re taking it so well. Can you go a bit deeper?”

You nodded, looking at her with eyes that spoke the words you couldn’t. So full of love and adoration. What was better was how hers reflected back. You kept eye contact with her as you sank further down, the silicone sliding deeper inside you. Eventually you were as far down as you could be, your thighs shaking “Mmh..fuck..” you moaned softly, moving to bury your face in her neck.

That’s when she started to bounce you up and down, before you could even start doing it yourself. She couldn’t control herself when you looked so perfect like that. “Shit..my pretty girl. God, you’re unreal.” she moaned, turning the vibrator up as it hummed against her clit pleasurably.

You moaned into her neck, kissing and biting at it as you rolled your hips on your own. Maybe this was your way of avoiding eye contact. But it seemed to work—Ellie did have such a sensitive neck. You kissed up her sweet spot, sucking on it gently and listening to her moan.

“Just like that. keep riding it, baby. Take me.”

“Ellie..feels s’good..”

“Mhm? You like getting fucked in your dream car? My baby is so filthy.”

“I know I am..I’m so fucking filthy. Please help me go faster..”

That was the conversation—all breathy and sweet. Ellie bounced you up and down quicker, leaving you almost unable to make out with her neck anymore. You were hopelessly moaning into the skin, unable to muffle everything. When Ellie heard, she pulled you away from her neck and made you look at her.

“I wanna hear you, don’t muffle your moans. You sound so fuckin’ sweet.” she rambled, absolutely obsessed with how needy you sounded. Your pussy soaked the silicone, sucking it in greedily. It was hitting the perfect spot every time, returning you to that almost euphoric state like before.

“Can you moan my name, sweetheart?” Ellie asked, but her voice was so fucking desperate. She bounced you faster, looking at you the whole time.

You grabbed her phone from the side, turning up the vibrator nudged against her clit. She moaned and nearly rolled her eyes back, she couldn’t handle all of this. You couldn’t even speak if you wanted to, she was absolutely ruining your aching pussy by how hard she was slamming you down. You cried out arching against her and letting out sweet whines right in her ear.

Ellie pulled you back again, making you look at her. “Baby, moan it.” she ordered again, though her voice was more desperate now.

Your eyes struggled to stay in place, jaw slack and fingers digging into your girlfriend’s shoulders. “E-El..fuck!” you whimpered, your head tilting back.

Ellie took one hand off your hips, since you were moving fast on your own now. She grabbed your jaw, keeping your focus on her. You looked at her half lidded, jaw melting in her hands as you rolled your hips impossibly.

“Moan it, try again.”

“Elli—god!”

“Baby, come on.”

“E-Ellie..please!”

That’s what did it for her, right when you moaned her name she came. She grabbed your hips and dug her fingertips into the flesh, head falling against you as she moaned and shook with pleasure.

Seeing her finish had an effect on you, causing you to follow. You buried your head into her shoulder, “Ellie, Ellie!” you cried, desperately rolling your hips as you rode it out. There was a ring around the base of the strap now, your slick on her lap as well.

You sat there for a while, just holding each other. Ellie kept you on her, despite your pussy spasming and crying with overstimulation. You didn’t even try to move, weak whines leaving you every time you moved an inch. Though, you did remember to turn the vibrator off.

Ellie reached into the glovebox, grabbing a pair of gym shorts. You raised an eyebrow, face still fucked out. “What’s that for?”

She looked at you, expression serious as ever. “I need to change my pants, you got them messy.” she explained, looking down and biting back a smirk.

You nearly had an aneurysm. You could NOT let this woman wear gym shorts to a fancy restaurant “Are you crazy?! You’re not wearing those.”

Then it hit you—the reservation!

You gasped and weakly lifted yourself off the silicone, slick clinging onto you. You plopped down in your chair—getting it messy once again. “Weren’t we supposed to be there 20 minutes ago?!”

Ellie scoffed and smiled, looking over at you and trying not to laugh. “I lied to you about the time, We have ten minutes still.”

You blinked at her and sighed, rubbing your forehead like a movie character. “Right, because you planned this.” you mumbled “But still, you can’t wear those.”

“Should I wear the fucking strap then?”

“Ellie!”

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @hyperbabes @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv @smaugayra @andieprincessofpower @elliesfavtoy @sewithinsouls @pariiissssssss @aliselune @myla-wyla @nattakasuperlesbian @xiletay @sawaagyapong @ellies-real-wife @lostdecisions @liddyflyer @talyaisvalslutsoldier @dustandpearls @vicluvsu @urmomssideh0e @ilovetaylorrr @shynymphh @mars4hellokitty @sevikasswifee @miracletyphoon

A/N: for my beautiful @mayfldss !!! I LOVE YOUUUU!!! —- thank you to her for the plot, and my girl for the smut idea ☺️☺️💗💗

[vahnilla]

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. so 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 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

[vahnilla]

loser ellie getting strapped for the first time 🙈

──𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆;

(loser!ellie x reader): you know what your girlfriend needs and exactly how to go about giving it to her.

wc: 4.3k | cw: bottom!ellie (obviously), sub!ellie, kinda sweet all things considered, hand-holding, fingering (e!receiving), oral sex (e!receiving), missionary, MINORS DNI.

note: here you are my friend! i hope you enjoy reading it because i enjoyed writing it :3 the title is literally just the song i was listening to when i started writing it. i think it fits tho lol

You’ve been dating Ellie long enough to understand that she doesn’t ask for things. Not directly, anyway. It’s not a matter of comfort or shame. It's just the way she is, stitched together all wrong when it comes to wanting.

Instead, she longs.

And there’s nothing subtle about it. It’s not like you have to squint to see it or catch the slip of a word in passing. No, Ellie wears it—every need, every fantasy, every bit of desire—right on her face, in the twitch of her fingers, the stammer in her voice, the flush that creeps up her neck when she thinks you’re not paying attention.

Right now, you have it on pretty good authority that she wants you to fuck her. Like, really fuck her. Properly. And she seems dead set on keeping that little secret, despite the fact that you can read her like the easiest goddamn book in the world.

Unfortunately for Ellie, you’ve seen that glassy, almost dazed look in her eyes when your fingers are deep inside her, watched how her lips move around the word more even when she thinks she’s being quiet about it. Like she’s whispering to herself, like she’s hoping the room hears her but not you. It’s equal parts cute and pathetic, and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

But bringing it up? That's the tricky part.

Ellie’s a skittish thing when it comes to this kind of vulnerability. If you bring it up directly—say it out loud, put it on the table—she’ll dodge and deflect until she’s twisted herself up so tight she won’t even look you in the eye for days. She’ll pretend it never crossed her mind and probably pick a fight just to get the topic to fuck off.

On the other hand, if you try to treat her like she’s delicate, or worse, like she’s scared, that stubborn streak kicks in. Her pride’s a sharp, ugly thing when she feels exposed, and you’ll lose whatever tiny window of honesty you had for at least a week.

It’s a line you have to toe carefully.

You decide the best way to get what you want is to make her think it was your idea all along. Ellie’s a sucker for that; anything she doesn’t have to admit to wanting feels safer for her.

So you wait until you’re curled up together on her couch, her legs stretched out and yours slung over them, half-drunk on the lazy weight of the evening. She’s tracing shapes on your shin, not really paying attention, or at least pretending not to.

“If I ace my exam next week,” you say, casually, like it just occurred to you, “will you let me fuck you?”

Ellie’s fingers stop moving. She freezes. Not for long, but enough that you can tell her brain is working overtime trying to process and react all at once. Then she clears her throat, rubs at her nose, flicks her eyes to the quiet TV like it’s suddenly fascinating.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

She says it flat, detached, but you catch the way her voice strains toward the end. You catch the faint flush creeping up her neck, the way her hands twitch like she needs something to do with them.

You let her have the out, let her pretend she’s cool about it. But you don’t miss the way she acts after that—zoning out mid-conversation, fiddling with her cuticles when she thinks you’re not watching. She slips somewhere behind her eyes, somewhere private, and you know she’s playing the whole thing out in her head.

When your grade comes in, you don’t even have to remind her. She already knows; you’d texted her a screenshot the second you saw it, and she’d sent back nothing but a thumbs up. Dry, nonchalant.

But then she shows up at your place the next afternoon, standing awkward in the doorway like she’s got a secret. She’s got her messenger bag slung across her chest, hanging heavy at her hip.

She follows you to your room and sits herself down right in the middle of your bed, legs crossed, bag dumped in her lap. She holds it with both hands, clutching the strap, eyes fixed somewhere on your floorboards like they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

You watch her for a beat, arms crossed.

“What’s in the bag, Williams?”

She shrugs, but she’s fidgeting with the zipper, tugging it up and down a couple inches. She doesn’t say anything, just finally shoves the whole thing at you like it’s on fire.

You take it from her, a little curious, a little amused. When you unzip it fully, the first thing you see is plastic. Clear packaging, crinkled and slightly foggy. And under that, a thick purple dildo, heavy enough to feel the weight of it even through the plastic.

You can’t help it. You giggle, a quick burst that bubbles up before you can swallow it down. Not because it’s funny, but because your stomach’s all twisted up, nerves snapping under your skin.

Ellie groans, tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling, mortified.

“Fuck,” she mutters, dragging her hands down her face. “I knew you’d laugh.”

“Hey—hey, I’m not laughing at you,” you say, closing the distance between you quick. You set the bag down and crawl onto the bed, kneeling in front of her. “I’m laughing because you brought it in your fucking messenger bag, Ellie. Like you were smuggling contraband.”

She exhales hard through her nose, still not looking at you. Her hands rub up and down her thighs, restless.

“Wasn’t gonna just, like, carry it around in my hand,” she mutters.

“Sure. I mean, that’d be a choice.” You grin, but it softens when you see her shoulders still tense, hands still working themselves raw against her jeans. “Seriously though. I’m glad you brought it. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

She looks at you then, a little wary, like she’s not sure if you’re serious or still messing with her. You slide your palms up her knees, slow and easy. She twitches under the touch, but doesn’t pull away.

“So…” she starts, voice low. “How’s this gonna work? I don’t really—” she hesitates, cheeks red again. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

You bite back another smile, not wanting to make her any more self-conscious.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” you say, thumb stroking just above the seam of her jeans. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you.”

Her breath stutters. Her hands finally go still, just resting on her thighs like she’s bracing for something.

“Okay,” she says, soft.

“Okay,” you echo, leaning in close. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

“You sound like a jock from a 90’s flick trying to get into a girl’s pants,” she jokes. Still, Ellie swallows, her eyes flicking down to your mouth like she can’t help it. “Kinda hate that it’s working for me.”

She’s still a little skittish, still pretending she’s not desperate for it, but hers is a thin, transparent act. You can see right through it, straight to the part of her that’s aching for you to take over.

You push her back easy, just a hand on her shoulder, and she goes down like she was waiting for it. Flat on her back, her hair spread messily over your sheets. She looks up at you like she’s not sure if she’s supposed to be smug or shy, mouth parted just a little.

You settle between her legs and lean down to kiss her. She meets you halfway, eager, sloppy from the start. Her lips are soft but she kisses with a hunger that makes her teeth catch yours, like she’s too impatient to get it right.

She lets out these little breaths whenever you pull back for air, like each one’s a complaint. She tries to follow your mouth, hands coming up like she’s going to grab your face, but you’re already moving, kissing her jaw, then down to her neck.

“Fuck,” she mutters, her voice wrecked already.

You drag your teeth along her throat and she gasps, tilting her head without being asked. You suck dark bruises into the pale skin there, licking over each one after just to hear the way her breath hitches. She’s already squirming under you, hips bucking up in these clumsy little thrusts, like she doesn’t know what to do with all the need boiling up inside her.

“What are you even trying to do, huh?” you murmur against her neck, grinning against her skin. “You’re not getting anything like that.”

She groans, frustrated, grabbing at the sheets. “Shut up.”

But her voice is thin, barely there. She bucks her hips again, chasing friction that isn’t there, grinding herself against your thigh like she can’t help it.

You trail your hands down her sides, fingertips dragging slow, just to watch her twitch. She’s warm everywhere, the heat of her burning under her clothes, her chest heaving like she’s been running. You slide your hands up, palms smooth over the curve of her ribs, thumbs just brushing the underside of her tits. She arches into the touch instinctively.

“Shit,” she breathes. “You’re—fuck.”

“Articulate as ever,” you tease, giggling a little against her collarbone. “C’mon, Ellie. Use your words.”

She shakes her head, eyes screwed shut like she’s embarrassed to even try. You just laugh, biting softly at the edge of her shoulder until she whines for you.

When you finally grab her tits properly, squeezing, she moans outright, her hips jerking up again. You press her down with your weight to keep her still, kissing up her throat to catch her mouth again. She kisses you back harder, hands finally coming up to grab your waist like she’s trying to anchor herself.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you murmur into her mouth. “All needy and stupid.”

She groans, dragging her nails down your back just to hear you hiss.

“Shut up,” she mutters again, but her voice is shaking, her eyes dark and glassy when she opens them. You kiss her again, messy, deep, with your hands still squeezing and teasing her tits until she’s panting into your mouth. 

You sit back on your knees and pull at the hem of her shirt.

“Arms up,” you say, and Ellie obeys, a little breathless but quick about it.

You drag her shirt up and over her head, then toss it somewhere behind you. She drops her arms back to the bed, flushed and watching you like she’s waiting for her next instruction. You run your palms down her torso, fingers splayed wide, enjoying the way she shivers when you reach her waist.

“Your turn,” she says, voice still a little hoarse. She fumbles for the hem of your shirt, tugging at it with no real coordination.

“You sure you don’t want me to—”

“No, I got it,” she insists, already half tangled trying to get your shirt off.

It’s clumsy, her fingers catching at the fabric, tugging too hard in some places and not enough in others. But she’s determined, sitting up just enough to wrangle it over your head, her brows drawn together in concentration.

You let her struggle through it, hands on her shoulders to steady yourself, grinning all the while. It takes twice as long as it should, but the look of focus on her face is so stupidly charming you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Finally, she gets it over your head and off your arms. She exhales like she just did something difficult, then looks up at you with this tiny, pleased smile.

“See?” she says. “Told you I got it.”

You can feel the nerves starting to creep back in though—her hands slow where they’re resting on your waist, her eyes flicking down and then away, like she’s remembering what all this is leading to.

So you push her back down, kissing her forehead first.

“You’re incredible,” you say, dramatically serious. You kiss her temple. “Strong.” Another kiss, down to the edge of her cheek. “So capable.”

She snorts, already trying to twist away from you.

“Oh my god, stop.”

“An unstoppable force,” you add, kissing her right under the ear.

She’s giggling now, bright and real, her hands coming up to cover her face.

“Stop hyping me up like I just built a fucking house.”

“You deserve it,” you say. “You saved me from suffocating in that evil t-shirt.”

She’s still laughing when you kiss her mouth again, soft and slow this time. You press her back down with your hands, fingers skimming along her sides, taking your time just feeling her. Then you start your way down, mouth pressed to her sternum, the soft give of her ribs.

You kiss along the edge of each one, lips dragging, tongue flicking occasionally just to feel her tense under you. Her breath’s coming quicker again, her giggles melting into little gasps when your teeth graze skin.

You mouth down her stomach, slow and steady, her muscles twitching under your tongue. She’s watching you, you can feel it—the way her gaze drags heavy over you, her hand twitching like she wants to grab your hair but doesn’t know if she should.

By the time you settle between her legs, her thighs are already shifting, restless, like her body’s impatient even if her mind is still catching up. You look up at her from where you’re kneeling and grin, hands on her hips, thumbs tracing the bones there.

“Comfortable?” you ask, lips split into a grin.

She rolls her eyes, but her breath hitches when your hands slide further down, thumbs hooking into the waistband of her jeans.

You peel her jeans down slow, dragging them off her hips while she lifts them just enough to help. Her thighs spread naturally, unconsciously, like her body’s been waiting for this. She’s soaked through her underwear, a dark patch spread wide across the fabric.

“Jesus, Ellie,” you murmur, grinning as you hook your fingers into her panties and tug them down too.

She mutters something under her breath, too quiet to catch, but her cheeks are flushed bright red. She keeps her forearm over her eyes, like she can pretend this isn’t happening if she can’t see you.

You settle fully between her legs, hands sliding under her thighs to spread her open more. You kiss the inside of her knee first, then trail inward, your mouth warm and slow. She’s already squirming, her muscles twitching under your palms, but she doesn’t say anything. She just breathes, shaky and quick.

When your mouth finally meets her pussy, she gasps, sharp and startled, like she wasn’t expecting you to just go for it. She tastes as good as she looks, and you groan into her, tongue dragging slow, savoring the way she shudders all the way down.

She tries to keep quiet. But you can hear it, the way her breath stutters, her teeth catching her bottom lip. But you’re relentless, mouth working steadily, licking broad and deep. You press a kiss right to her clit and she lets out this thin, broken noise, her hips jerking up against your mouth before she catches herself.

You keep one hand under her thigh, the other sliding between her legs. Two fingers slide through the slick there, teasing her entrance, before you push in slow. She’s tight, the heat of her almost unbearable, and she gasps like she wasn’t expecting it.

You fuck her slow with your fingers, mouth still working her clit, working them just right until her hips start rolling up to meet you without her realizing. She’s a mess in no time, trying so hard to stay quiet, but it’s not working. Every breath comes out shaky, a whimper caught halfway between a moan and a sob.

“Shit—fuck—” she gasps, arm still over her face, like that’s gonna help. “Feels so—fuck, I—”

You smile against her, humming low just to feel her twitch around your fingers. She’s whining now, a constant undercurrent of noise that she can’t seem to bite back, her hips stuttering with every thrust of your hand.

When you feel her getting close—her legs trembling, the desperate, stuttering way she pushes down against your mouth—you pull back, slow and deliberate. You ease your fingers out just as carefully, leaving her empty and panting.

“Think you’re ready,” you say, sitting up a little, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand.

She makes a desperate sound, her arm finally dropping from her face so she can glare at you properly. Her eyes are glassy, her hair stuck to her forehead, her mouth still open like she’s catching her breath.

“You good?” you ask, voice gentler now. “You still want this?”

She nods immediately, no hesitation, but her voice comes a little rough. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, please.”

She’s not pretending anymore; there’s no cool detachment, no playing it off. She’s flushed, messy, eyes dark and greedy. You lean over and kiss her, slow and heavy, swallowing the tiny sounds she’s still making. Then you pull away with one last kiss to her cheek before sliding off the bed.

“Sit tight,” you tell her with a grin. “Time for the star of the show!”

You come back with the strap already buckled snug against your hips. Ellie’s watching, of course, her eyes stuck on the toy where it bobs slightly with each step you take toward the bed. She tries to play it off, but she’s not slick—her thighs shift restlessly, her lips parted like she forgot how to keep her mouth closed.

You grab one of your pillows and nudge her hips up gently, sliding it under her. She lifts them for you without being asked, pliant and eager despite the flush still high on her cheeks. Propped up like this, her legs fall open easier, everything on display just for you.

You kneel between her thighs, settling the toy against your palm as you lean forward to kiss her again, soft and slow. Your free hand finds hers, lacing your fingers together.

“Gonna go slow, alright?” you murmur against her mouth.

She nods, already breathless. “Yeah. Okay. Please.”

You keep hold of her hand, guiding the tip of the strap down with the other until it’s pressed just right, sliding through the slick still gathered between her legs. She shivers, her fingers twitching in yours.

You press in slow, watching every inch disappear, your focus split between the stretch of her body and the sounds she’s making—tiny gasps, breath caught in her throat, that shaky little whimper when the head finally pushes past the tightest part.

Her hips buck up, greedy, chasing more even before you can offer it. You hold steady, squeezing her hand. “Easy, baby,” you soothe. “You’re taking me so good already.”

“I can take it,” she insists, voice breaking a little with how badly she wants it. “Swear, just—just give me more.”

You can’t look away. Her cunt is swallowing the toy greedily, like her body was made for this. The sight of her spread open around it, clenching down and pulling you deeper, has your pulse pounding everywhere, a raw ache low in your stomach. You bottom out slow, seating yourself fully inside her, and Ellie is already panting, her grip on your hand tighter, knuckles white.

“Shit,” she breathes, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck—feels so fuckin’ good.”

You hold still for a second, just letting her get used to it, your free hand sliding to her hip to keep her from fucking herself too fast, too soon.

“You okay?” you ask, voice quieter. “Talk to me.”

She nods quickly. “Yeah. Don’t stop. Please.”

You pull out just a little and ease back in, slow strokes, watching the toy glide slick and steady. She whines, the sound caught and thin, her hips jerking despite your hand holding her steady. She’s already got that hazy look in her eyes, her hair sticking damp to her temples, mouth hung open like she forgot how to breathe right.

You keep the pace slow, savoring the way her body gives under you, and ask, “You ever done this before?”

She bites her lip, suddenly shy, eyes flicking away for a beat. “Not…not with someone else,” she admits, barely above a whisper. “Only, like, by myself. Not that I’m doing it by myself a lot.”

The confession is enough to have heat spreading throughout your body. Something possessive and greedy in a way you didn’t expect. You smile, slow and a little wicked, but there’s a softness there too, something fond beneath it.

“Well, I’ll make sure I’m your last,” you tease, leaning in to kiss her jaw, her cheek, her temple. “A great honor.”

She laughs breathlessly, but she’s still blushing, still squeezing your hand tight.

“C’mon…keep going,” she mutters, and you grin into her skin, rolling your hips slow, just deep enough to hear that sweet, choked little sob she makes every time you bottom out.

You start to find a rhythm—slow, deep, giving her time to adjust while you watch her face shift with every drag of the strap. She’s flushed and glowy all over, that stupidly pretty pink spread from her cheeks down her throat, her chest rising and falling quick and uneven. Her eyes flutter, her mouth stays parted, breath coming out in little puffs that sound like she’s just barely holding herself together.

But she’s getting comfortable, you can tell. She’s still twitchy, still working through how full she is, but she’s rocking her hips up to meet you now, small and shallow, like her body’s chasing the momentum before she can think better of it.

“You having fun down there, huh?” you tease, voice low, thumb stroking absent circles into the side of her hip.

She rolls her eyes—or tries to—but she’s already too gone to commit to the action. “Fuck...off,” she breathes, the words shaky. She tries to catch your rhythm with hers, meeting your thrusts, but her legs keep trembling, her coordination fucked.

You smile, slow and smug. She tries again to say something smart, you can see it forming in her mouth, but you cut her off by driving your hips forward harder, the strap sliding in deep, punching a sharp little gasp out of her throat.

Her whole face scrunches up, pretty and helpless, a high-pitched whine breaking in her throat.

“Sorry, what was that?” you ask, all fake sweetness. “Didn’t catch it.”

“Asshole,” she manages, but it’s thin and wrecked.

You’re thoroughly enjoying this, watching her try so hard to keep her composure, to talk back to you like she’s still got the fortitude for it. But every time she opens her mouth, you make a point of slamming back in hard enough to steal her breath, to wipe her mind clean for a few seconds.

She glares up at you, or tries to, but her eyes keep going soft, hazy and fucked-out. You lean in close, face hovering over hers, and pick up the pace just a little, hips moving sharper now, testing how much she can take.

She arches into you, the angle forcing a moan from her chest that she probably didn’t mean to let out. Her free hand fists the sheets beside her, her other still tangled with yours, squeezing like she’s trying to ground herself.

“Take your time baby,” you say, still smiling. “I’m sure you’ll get it out eventually.”

She shakes her head, panting. “You’re—you’re not—” Her words cut off with a sharp inhale when your hips snap forward again.

“Not what?” you press, grin widening. “Not giving it to you good enough?”

She whines, low and desperate, hips jerking under your grip.

You shift your angle slightly, sliding your thumb down between her legs and pressing it against her clit. She jumps, body going tense all at once, her head tipping back into the pillows. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out except a breathy, broken sound.

“C’mon, finish a thought for me,” you murmur, thumb rubbing slow circles against her clit. “Or I’ll stop.”

“No,” she gasps, hips stuttering. “Fuck, don’t—don’t stop.”

“Then say something smart.”

She tries—she really does—but every time she gets half a word out, you press harder, fuck into her deeper, making her voice catch in her throat. Eventually, she just gives up, shaking her head, whimpering instead.

You pick up the pace properly then, driving into her harder, faster. The slick sounds of her pussy take over, loud and filthy between her gasps and the slap of skin against skin. She’s so wet it’s obscene, her body sucking the strap in greedily like she never wants to let it go.

“Harder,” she begs, voice all shredded up. “Please—harder.”

You oblige, your thrusts turning rough, hips snapping forward in quick, deep drives. You keep your thumb on her clit, rubbing in tight, insistent circles, and she’s barely holding herself together now—legs trembling, toes curling, her mouth open like she’s forgotten how to close it.

“Fuck—fuck—oh my God,” she cries, her voice cracking high. “I’m gonna—shit—I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” you pant, fucking her through it, eyes locked on her face. “Let me see.”

She sobs on the next thrust, her whole body seizing up, her hand squeezing yours so tight it aches. Then she falls apart, legs kicking, a strangled cry ripping out of her like she’s been trying to hold it in this whole time but couldn’t anymore.

You keep moving, slow and shallow now, working her through it while she gasps for air, her thighs trembling against your sides. She looks ruined, all flushed and sweaty, eyes wet, lips bitten red from where she tried to stay quiet.

When she finally opens her eyes, she looks dazed, barely here, but happy—like she doesn’t even have the energy to pretend she’s not proud of herself for taking it.

You lean down, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then her jaw.

“Goddamn,” you murmur, smiling into her skin. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

She laughs weakly, still breathless. “That was so sick,” she whispers, voice is sweet, and her hand squeezes yours again like she doesn’t want to let go.

[vahnilla]

haven’t posted my own stuff in a while—here’s some western CaitVi

[vahnilla]

　　　　𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍. 𝐸.𝒲.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one here ! ellie must learn to be okay with what terrifies her as you begin to fight the invasion of your respiratory system. she's going to light a fire for you, no matter how much it burns her skin, as she is determined not to be the reason you go cold.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ MINORS DNI ( 18+ ) modern au. brother's best friend!ellie williams x fem!reader. ellie has haphephobia (fear of touch). reader has... something (hanahaki disease). reader also has anxiety and insecurities. angst. disaster lesbians. vivid descriptions of: hospitals, ptsd, foster system + past child abuse, poor mental health, panic attacks + fear, terminal illness + symptoms of nausea, vomiting, coughing, needles, medications (morphine) — gross/graphic descriptions, warning for squeamish readers. hurt / comfort. reader is 19, ellie is 21.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — ‧₊˚ ⋅ this part includes discussion of ellie's backstory, involving child abuse and neglect as well as the foster system. she suffers ptsd and this is where her haphephobia originated from—i've tried to portray this with respect and realism. there is no vivid description of these events but heavy mentions/references to it. just a trigger warning! i love this little fic so much. i don't know what to call this? a mini mini-series? a duology? anyway— sorry this part took so long. thank you for reading, i love you. and ellie. aaaaaaaaa.

　　　　m.list　wc — 7k.　mdni, please ♡

a constant itch irritating your arm, a monotonous beeping that grates your ears, a soulless room. it's gloomy, the only light granted by an overcast sky through the window.

you're waiting for a different kind of natural light. waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and it's taking its sweet time.

this is supposed to be comfortable. this was intended to be a comfortable few days. end of life care.

it's been one month. there's nothing comfortable about this.

morphine flows through your veins, it masks the aches only for a little. you barely notice how your breath stutters and shakes anymore, it's easier with the aid of the drug, but you're just not sure that it's better than being at home, conscious of every impairment.

you try not to look at the iv as much as it begs your attention. it will only make you feel sick.

the clock ticks away every second until dark. every hour blends into one another, each nurse flowing through the room seeming like they are simply the same words in a different font. you think you remember receiving another dose of morphine, but it doesn't feel like it.

your phone screen lights your face as you check the time. ten.

your eyes close and you think of her. it isn't like it used to be. it's not that you wonder what she is doing or if she is thinking of you. it's that she promised a visit soon.

if you get through this night, you'll be able to see her sooner.

you own a stuffed animal named hope. you couldn't touch the poor thing as your descent into ill-health turned dangerously fast. you'd look at the bear and think about how ridiculous the name is.

you've clung to hope for years and it's as if reality has slapped you in the face for it; a punishment for your wistfulness, served in rose scented bile.

hope was futile.

but now, it doesn't feel that way; ellie made progress.

so, hope sits in your lap day in and day out. she shares this gurney with you, and you squeeze and play and fidget with her. a piece of home, youth, and a reminder to fight what once seemed like a losing battle.

another hour passes. turning over and lying on your side takes the breath out of you for a moment, a hoarse gasp following after the action. it is never this hard, usually.

you squeeze onto hope. those browned curls warm your chest, the fluff soft on your fingertips, but you don't feel any less alone.

being a special case sucks.

they needed to give you a room away from other patients. from the moment you were wheeled into the emergency room you were treated like a risk. some people have allergies, you know. it made you bitter. your flowers are something beautiful.

you may be overly attached to something that harms you more than it does care for you. but ellie gave you these flowers. she's turned you into a walking perfume. maybe if those people knew who she was, they'd understand rather than turn up a nose and cringe at the scent.

sebastian sees you for a few minutes each day. he wears a mask—he told you the smell of florals puts him in a bad mood these days. he answers the phone slower these days.

your mother has been busy with work.

something tells you that's bullshit.

the nurses lack in personality. they're all bubbly and kind and at first, they seemed to look over you with pity. now, they seem eager to get your bed empty and ready for the next unfortunate patient.

are they getting careless? with time racing toward you until you meet your fate, perhaps they think it wiser to save resources? something about the dose you received earlier just wasn't right. it's not supposed to wear off this fast, right?

you're not supposed to be feeling like this anymore. that flicker of hurt inside your ribcage every time you take in a breath is back. the embrace of silence isn't supposed to be this goddamn loud. your ears ring as you glance around the dark room, something eerie in the way that cars and sirens yell and screech in the city outside.

the symphony of chaos out there is overarching at this point, you cannot even hear your pulse. but you can feel your feet tapping against the end of the bed like a metronome out of time.

you search your brain for lyrics that make sense and nothing of the sort erupts. it's all blurred—it's all panic. i don't wanna be alone anymore. you just want out, every thought pointing towards the door. if you had the strength to rip off all these needles and wires and march out there, take your life back, you might've done it already.

you tenderly brush a petal from the top of hope's head after coughing, reaching towards the side table for your phone. however late it may be now doesn't matter, you need noise; something that won't make you feel so small.

ellie put together a pretty good playlist for you. that'll do.

you underestimate the effort it requires to get your phone at this very moment, an audible whine leaving your lips as you stutter and struggle for breath. it pulls something. some neglected muscle in your back lashes out and you draw back into the bed.

hope tumbles out of your hold and onto the floor.

so you're not even allowed the solace of material comfort today, huh?

you have a hundred 'last straw's every day. this was the last of the last. you're in pain.

her fingers move along the fretboard with a practised passion, the joints tired out after hours of rehearsal and perfecting. sometimes ellie writes, but nights like these, she remembers why she doesn't do it often.

it doesn't come right the first time around. not ever.

she stops and watches the window. the sky is a blank canvas tonight, no stars nor flashing lights, just blackness and fog. her eyes follow the usual path around her room, twinkling string lights and old polaroids on the wall. those ones were her first happier memories.

ellie sighs, her fingers resorting to picking a random, comfortable pattern on the strings of her guitar as she stares down at the words scrawled into her journal. the acoustic rests in her lap and the pen hooked into the strap of her top.

she decides it's time to quit for the night. rearranging this bridge a fourteenth time is fruitless, because still, nothing could describe the feeling she had when she finally had the courage to hold your hand.

and still, nothing can describe how pathetic she feels for being afraid to do it again.

ellie liked it. she really, truly did. she cradled your hand with the same gentleness present in the way she holds the neck of her guitar. she took care and warmed every bone in your fingers, rubbed her thumb across the back of your palm to help you breathe.

she wasn't only doing something good for herself, but for you—she was admitting to you her blindness. she was taking the first step in the right direction.

now, ellie can't seem to replicate the same bravery she walked into your bedroom with. she's just a coward.

the first step is supposed to be the hardest—why did it feel so easy?

why doesn't anything feel as easy since?

she lets out a sigh, deep and slow, rubbing her face and moving her guitar to the bed. she's closing the blinds when her phone begins to vibrate and she squints a bit, fishing through her pockets. probably some scammer, she doesn't have anyone to call her these days—

okay, definitely not a scammer.

it's you.

answering feels just as easy as holding your hand felt. maybe it's the spontaneity. she doesn't have a chance to think about it, really. all ellie knows is that it's past midnight and you've called her.

no hello, no joking around—none of that, simply her voice rushing to beat yours. 

"are you okay? it's late."

"ellie, i just wanna hear your voice." nothing could prepare ellie for the way your voice sounds. she's never felt such a strong punch to the gut, but your voice—wavering and weak, quite clearly in the throes of tears—it has the impact of a hard fist. "please. i'm scared."

and she softens quickly, holding her breath so that she can hear all of you. how your own breath hitches, your tone runs pitchy around the edges, you sniffle. she can picture you in a hospital bed with teary eyes, and fuck. it's not right.

"i'm here." ellie sits at the edge of her bed, lip drawing between her teeth. she won't draw attention to your cries. it's not what you need.

"everything hurts," you say through a gasp. there's no need for convincing, ellie believes you from just the sound of your pain alone. there's a familiarity in the heartache, it's something ellie knows too, now.

"i'm here," she repeats. she feels so stupidly capable right now, her shoulder pressing the phone to her ear as she holds her hands together, rubbing the skin so gently as though it is your softness she caresses. she's losing herself to the thought of what she thinks she'd do in your presence at this moment. "i'm always here, don't panic. do you need me to be here when you go to sleep?"

without hesitance, you respond. "yes." and something of it makes ellie feel as though she's neglected you. she needs to hear your voice now, and not just muted by the peaking and crackling static of a call; she needs to be at your bedside. 

and there's no questioning that you need it too. she doesn't need to see you to know what you need. you need to see her courage once more.

"okay, baby— i—" she buries her face into her hand and suppresses a groan, rubbing out her temple. vulnerability is clawing its way out of her throat and yet, something in her still tries to stop it before it becomes too much. calling you that, ugh… it felt like second nature. "okay, i'm gonna stay on the line."

"everything hurts, it's too much," you say. you tried to speak, anyway—it comes out in a whisper, as though that's all you can manage. "can't breathe."

"i need you to try," ellie encourages. "but just slowly. think, maybe it hurts because you need to slow down, yeah?"

slow or fast, light or deep, breathing feels as though it's twisting each thorn, piercing your heart and your lungs. ellie may be right. maybe, it's your fear that does it. after all, these flowers have what seems to be their own intuition, and they prey on your anxiety.

and ellie's just as lost, trying to talk you down—god, if she could hold you right now…

you hear your name and it startles you to attention once more. "just need you to make it through this night, okay?" she asks. "if you get some sleep, yeah, i'll come hang out with you tomorrow?"

"yes, yeah," you reply shortly, sniffling. "please."

it's quieter after that. ellie coaxes you into silence, she promises you there will be warmth tomorrow. whatever that means, it brings you the slightest hope once more.

going through the motions of the morning was difficult for ellie. 

the shower burnt her skin red and raw yet she swore the water was lukewarm, her breakfast took its time going down, and when she sat in her car and turned the heater on, the air leaving the vents felt icy. she had not the patience for anything, her mind askance.

more like, she was waging war with herself—i got this. i'm gonna march into that room and take back what i lost. of course, the situation is not 'all or nothing', even if that's how she treats it. there are baby steps necessary for her recovery, but she'd rather not give herself flowers for those. and ellie's well aware that she's setting herself up for disappointment by rejecting the small wins. it's like trying to knock down a stone wall with a wrecking ball made of cardboard. it doesn't work.

she just wants to be normal; she just wants to be what you need.

and walking into that gloomy room, scanning every wire hooked up to your body, and, frankly, her ears assaulted by all kinds of beeping, it raises her hackles. hospitals are quiet, until they're not. they're all hushed voices and whispered reassurances, only for that to be combated by monitors and machines ellie has no idea the purpose of. they feel malicious.

"hey." 

the word startles you. but ellie sees nothing but relief in the softness of your gaze.

"hi."

ellie takes a seat, and she feels like she's accidentally just glued herself to this spot— it's something she'd liken to a duty of care. like she can't leave. "so, you're feeling better after last night? i wish i could've done more, you know, but…"

"the nurse gave me a lighter dose by mistake," you reply. "that's why i was in so much pain." your voice sounds more distant, more uncaring of what words come out—your eyes run ovals around her. it's as if you can barely believe she's sitting here. it's the fairest sight you've had since your last day at home, and you thank heavens she's not changed. every freckle is where you last pictured it, the corners of her lips curl up with awkward hesitance, that one strand of hair that never sat with the rest is still antagonising her.

her hands are bare. no gloves.

"shit, for real? that's fuckin'..." ellie trails off, replacing what would have been a protective rant with a simple sigh.

she doesn't like this. nobody does, seeing you weak and scared, perishing in the coldest place imaginable. but that doesn't make it fair to avoid you.

it doesn't make her want to be here any less. ellie's almost shocked by herself when her eyes lay upon your hand and she feels this absurd, unconscious jolt in her own hand with the instinct to reach out.

"how's your mom? and seb..?" she asks, her eyes set on your hands as much as yours are on hers.

"uh… next question?" you murmur, flashing a lopsided grin.

"oh." ellie blinks, and again, she feels that tightening in her wrist, this urge she's barely able to restrain. "you haven't seen them?"

"not for a few weeks," you say, shaking your head. "they're really busy lately." 

ellie can tell you believe that excuse as much as she does. and what does it make her feel? it's unusual for her. it targets something tucked away inside of her, blanketed by confusion and tears; the inner child.

she finds herself wanting to whine. that's not fair. 

"that's— but they're— you're their baby. they can't make some time?"

you brush it off with a croaky voice, taking the cup of water at your bedside and having a small sip. "i'm not sure. it's fine though."

her eyes flick from your hands to your lips, the skin no longer as soft as it used to be, instead dry. it reminds her of that post-crying feeling, and even worse is the barely restrained hurt in your eyes that she catches. 

ellie knows it isn't fine. it isn't fair. she's been lonely. she's been the black sheep in every herd she was passed between, she's been the skeleton hidden in tiny closets. she was young, and innocent, and so easily forgotten. passed from family to family, no stay intended to be permanent, she suffered—she was deprived of attention.

it was always the warmer families that couldn't keep her, and the colder ones that she had to endure for longer. she was replaced, she was ignored, she was neglected, so long that touch soon felt like a foreign luxury. 

and soon, it became not a luxury, but something to fear. for a while the only touch ellie felt would be a push or shove on the playground, and of course, she'd push back and scoff (and perhaps use some language too vulgar for her age). it became something to cry over when she'd leave detention and whomever she was under the care of would be waiting for her. arriving to an address that was not hers, different homes that never felt like home, where human mistakes left bruises on her body.

touch became something worth flinching over. she learned to see kicks and punches coming before they left their impact.

and now that it's all over, ellie never unlearned that.

inside, there's still a little girl who aches for love. it stung, but she craved it. and to ellie, looking at you, withering and wilting by the lack of her affections, it feels like looking at that little girl.

so she feels that she is being pulled, suddenly, the legs of her chair screeching across the floor so she may sit as close as possible. it's no conscious effort, just her limbs working in tandem with what her heart needs at this moment.

ellie reaches, and then pauses, breathing in through her nose. "can i—?"

your lips work into a small, but reassuring smile, pursed tight to contain excitement. you don't want to be overwhelming, or intimidating, or too desperate, or whatever else—doesn't matter if your entire predicament is the overwhelming result of a desperate yearning, you tense like a statue just in case. "of course."

from their frozen position in the air, her hands finally move. you weren't sure where she was going for, but ellie has been telling herself this is what she would do to ever since the last time she saw you. 

she cups your face, palms meeting your cheeks slowly, as though she holds a piece of her very soul in her hands.

your two sets of slow breathing mingle in the silence of the room, and for seconds ellie just holds your face. then, her thumbs caress the high points; they run along your cheekbones, her callouses press into the curve of your jawline, as though mapping out every depth or crevice in your face. analysing the structure, appreciating the curves and the softness, not only with her skin, but her eyes. it feels like she can see through you, and it's not even an invasive feeling. in fact, it's not been this easy for you to breathe in a long time.

ellie thinks of her half-written poetry from last night. her mind is fresh with ideas, the passion reborn. she's realising it now, that unless she turns this into a habit, she won't be able to remember how it feels to touch your skin. she'll be back tomorrow, or maybe she won't even leave. it would be alright to hold your hand as you sleep.

your cheeks, once lifelessly icy, now warmed by ellie, rest in the palm of her hands like they are a bed. her face is rose-flushed, but more calm than earlier. inside, there's fire spreading from heart to hands. it doesn't burn like she thought it would. sure, the initial connection was scorching, but now it's comfortable, healing.

something beautiful happened. you would describe ellie's touch like some kind of healing power, in fact, so might she, in a different way; things that used to feel impossible for the both of you are quite easier.

you can breathe on your own, without medical interference—no drugs, no machines. your voice is clearer, food stays down, you can stay awake. ellie wasn't aware of it herself until you stood for the first time in weeks. it was like she had seen a ghost rise from the grave.

of course, it wasn't like you'd taken any miracle cure. you were frail and failing to maintain your balance. it was okay, though, because ellie darted over to catch you. she walked you to the café downstairs.

she could see herself quickly becoming nothing short of an addict to the feeling of your skin beneath her fingertips. when once she was uncomfortable by the feeling of another's shirt, she now feels like it isn't enough to dig her fingers into your pyjamas.

doctors who were certain you were perishing before were now bemused. tests and scans were ordered.

not only was there a clearer picture and tidier result, but the specialists found that what little was left of your flowers were charred. it aligned with what nurses had been reporting as well—a higher body temperature, and black, dried petals leaving your system. 

the hanahaki was dying, and you were blossoming. eyes brighter and face rounder, fuller, softer.

you could go home.

and it could've been better—perhaps it would've felt nicer if your room had been cleaned before you got home, and if things weren't so awkward between you and your family—you can't help looking with bitter eyes at them for how they had acted. it was like you were disposable. 

but getting to see ellie for the first time since you got home makes up for it all. strategically planned so that your mother and sebastian won't be around, of course.

you open the door before she can knock. it's like the tables have turned, and ellie is the one who struggles to breathe when you're near, looking so alive and so comfortable like this, with a smile on your face that knocks the wind out of her lungs, and a recovered lust for life. 

"hi," you say with a small nod, and you inch closer almost hesitantly, which she notices, of course. to save you the trouble of asking for it, she wraps her arms around your middle and holds you. 

but you don't miss the hitch in her breath. still, every time you touch, she stiffens or holds her breath. what would you take it for, if not discomfort? this time, though, when you try to pull away, ellie snorts a little and tightens her grip, nosing into your neck.

"you're fine, baby."

the look on her face when she pulls away is reverent and somewhat sheepish, the corner of her lips curled up and eyelids heavy. if there's one thing ellie hates about this, it's the process. why can't she snap her fingers and be rid of the side effects of her past? why must she sit through all of the messy feelings, the awkwardness, the way that touch still makes her skin blister even when she likes it?

and how, still, are you so patient with her?

"listen, so, uh… i wasn't sure if you ever wanna see another damn flower again, but, i figured you deserve something nice, right?" ellie pushes the single tulip forward, shrugging one shoulder. "s'not a rose, at least. think you might hate them now. that would be reasonable, yeah.."

you nod, that same grin on your face as always, plucking the flower from her grip. "this is okay. but— can i have another hug..? just one more?"

"oh—" ellie's throat tightens, arms opening before her mouth. "sweet girl, you don't even need to ask. c'mere."

this time, you sink into her. it's like being doused in fire, her body warming yours on the way to the car, all because she couldn't bring herself to let go. and that brings another one of those half smiles to her face that she always tries to hide. a hint of pride. progress.

she thinks about resting a hand over your thigh on the drive—it would be even better progress, but something makes her hesitate. something of a debate takes place in her mind before she finally does it, and once more, she feels that sense of pride. the pride of each move forward burns every doubt as though they're pages in an old diary.

plus, ellie truly enjoys the way your leg tenses beneath her hand and how you're quick to gaze out the window with the hint of a smile on your lips.

the drive is empty of conversation, the space filled by the stereo, and it should be that everything about this is already familiar to you. the route, the person, the intention. you're heading to the park, but this time you sit in the passenger seat, you actually trust that the driver will keep you safe (you'd never tell your brother this, but ellie is a far calmer driver than him), and your stomach isn't tying itself into knots. your breathing isn't stifled by stems and thorns and petals.

sometimes you still struggle with chasing for her touch now you've had your samples of it, but it battles with the need to make her comfortable. and so, you grip onto her sleeve as you walk to the old ice cream van stationed in its typical spot. your fingers cling to the fabric, pulling it taut, in the hopes that it won't hurt her, but soothe your need. 

"cookies and cream?" ellie asks, glancing down. your heart lurches when she starts pulling her arm back, only to replace her sleeve with her hand.

you search her for fear from the corner of your eye, but there's no wide eyes or bitten lips. "uh, yeah. i miss it."

"i'll have it too," she says, giving you a fond grin. "you don't know how much of the stuff i've been pigging out on these past few months. it makes me think of you."

you let out an involuntary giggle, squeezing her hand. "i extended my comfort food to you?"

"pretty much, yeah." ellie nods. "i started gorging myself the second i got kicked out of your house."

"well, i'll take that as though you were doing so in my honour," you reply, a cheesy grin on your face. "i missed having an appetite."

soon enough, with a cone in each of your hands, you sit beside ellie on a bench and share a comfortable silence. birds sing in the distance, trees shielding you from the summer fever.

ellie is so unusually quiet that it's powerful, and you turn your head towards her at the very moment that she is, apparently, leaning closer, and the sudden contact makes her jump back this time—something about the unpredictability of it frightened her.

"jesus, you almost killed me."

"oh—! sorry. payback, i guess, because you almost k—"

once ellie closes her mouth (that comment rattled her a bit too hard), she gives you a light pinch on the arm. "don't say that kinda stuff, that's morbid as fuck. i didn't try to—"

"sorry," you repeat, laughing softly. "it's a little bit funny though."

"it's not funny." ellie's words are betrayed by her own chuckle, however. "that's a sore spot still."

"alright, i won't say that again. you have my word." you give ellie a tiny salute, then nod your head to the ice cream sitting idle in her hand. she's barely touched it, if at all. "are you okay? just.. thinking a lot?"

ellie glances down at her hand, a stream of melted ice cream dripping down her skin. "uh… yeah. just…"

she takes a pause, eyes flitting back to you, landing on your lips. she realises she must look like a deer in the headlights, and forces herself to look away with a halfhearted shrug of her shoulders.

"i'm just happy we're here."

why can't i just kiss her? ellie wracks her brain on the way home, so distracted she's driving on autopilot. the world passes by in blurs of colour, her heavy huffs of breath the only sound in the car. the scent of your perfume still lingers in your wake, and when she's idling at a red light, ellie looks over to the empty passenger seat. the sight of a little black petal clinging to the seat makes her smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

it's like you leave a little trail, the occasional remains of scorched flowers following you wherever you've been. maybe she'll pop this one into her journal tonight.

ellie takes the long way home. it's filled with deep sighs and her white-knuckling the steering wheel, her inner monologue rather unhelpful. if only she could explain why she halts right on the edge every time she is about to meet a goal.

she tries. she really thought she could do it today. she felt so ready to grasp your chin and press a little kiss on your smile, but she faltered at the last second, when you turned and caught her staring. fucking faltering. she always does it.why am i so fucking scared? she grits her teeth, willing herself not to pull over when tears start to pool. she's nearly home, anyway. yeah, she narrowly avoided death trying to merge with blurry vision and some asshole in her blind spot. but she just wants to be home.

it's like drowning in shallow waters; she should be fine, but something is holding her hostage. something keeps her holding her breath, something's weighing so heavy on her that she can't pull herself out. there's always something ugly working behind the scenes to keep her from living. whether she's conscious of it or not, there's a memory or an instinct that rears its head. nightmares, flinches, even a small gasp—it's as if her body remembers it more than her mind.

a hand near her head, it makes her think her hair will be yanked.

a movement too sudden, it makes her want to brace for impact, only for it to be the gentlest embrace.

ellie hates it. she hates the way you pull back with a crease worrying your brows and that cloying tone of voice ringing in her ears, the apologies and the check-ins. because she loves the touch. it felt so freeing to admit such a thing for the first time. ellie loves to touch you, but she's so scared, still, and what's worse is that pit of guilt that forms in her stomach every time she fails.

she needs this—to no longer be so alone, and to take up space, and to touch. for the little girl she once was, who was not given the grace to do those things. 

if healing was measurable, that would make this simpler. but it's easy to get lost in the wishes and the goals. it's not so easy to think about the journey it takes to meet those goals.

"ellie? ellie. did you mean to call? or did you butt dial?"

"no…" ellie murmurs. she holds her phone against her ear and closes her eyes. she definitely made somewhat of a spectacle by calling and saying absolutely nothing in return when you answered. "i wanted to call. just… want you to talk to me."

"oh… okay," you reply. she can hear the pleasant surprise in your voice, that and something like fondness. "that's kinda cute, els. you dropped me off two hours ago."

"yeah, i, uh— i miss you." the phone doesn't catch her sniffling, but it carries the shaking current in her words. "can you start talking my ear off now?"

"what— well, yes, but what's wrong?" 

"nothing, what do you mean?"

"come on, ellie," you groan, and she can picture you pinching the bridge of your nose like you always do when she's said something silly. but really, it's far from that. you're pushing your phone up to your ear and spamming the volume button so that you can hear her over the sound of your own increasing heartbeat, fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. "you're being all standoffish and stuff. like you've got something you need to get off your chest."

"uh… no." she clears her throat quite roughly, her free hand swiping at her eyes. "i just wanna hear your voice."

you know you shouldn't push. ellie will come to you when she's ready, like she always does, but this gnaws at you. it's hard to find a new topic when your brain drifts into all the possible explanations for ellie's hurt.

you never want to be the reason she's hurting. and if you are? what if you are? if you pushed boundaries today, or if you're just moving too fast? 

"okay, well, i miss you too," you begin. "i really like it when we hug. it's so warm and, like, comforting."

"i like it too," she says slowly. "you left a lil petal in my car."

"oh, right, that was probably from that coughing fit i had," you muse. "it really hurt, actually."

"you were very loud about that."

"how am i supposed to be quiet about choking?" you snort, but the moment is short lived. you're getting to the bottom of this. "can you please tell me what's wrong? we don't even have to dwell on it. just let me know."

"ah, it's just…" she lets out a flustered sigh, then starts to mumble. "just feeling generally shitty. that's all. i'm stressed. it's nothing you need to be worrying about."

"it's you, els, i do need to worry about it." you choose your words carefully but they flow easily. loving ellie has never required effort. you've spent years waiting for her to see it, and now it's the easiest it's ever been to show her. "i care. and i will always be here. i'm never going to vanish. i think i've made it very fucking clear i don't plan on doing that. i'm stubborn."

"yeah…" ellie swallows thickly and rests her chin in the palm of her hand, eyeing her lonely bedroom. "it's guilt. for… i dunno… just…"

you let ellie fall into silence. she's gathering the words to explain herself with—at least, you hope she is—and that is something you do not want to be pushy with.

"i hate how long this is taking," she says finally. "i want it. i'm ready for it. but my mind is just— it's like it's on a completely different track. i love you. but i'm so pathetic. i've made you wait so long."

"this isn't about me," you say. "i waited for you because i wanted to, and i'll wait as long as it takes. actually, i'm really impressed by you. you're making progress."

"but it's not fair. i hate that you have to be cautious. i wish— i mean, i wish i was normal. i wish i could snap out of it."

you stop her before she spirals further into a self deprecating rant, hushing her very gently. "you are normal. you're learning how to react to things that happened to you that should have never happened. and you're taking huge steps towards healing. and i am so proud of you. i really am."

"i'm scared, but it's not even about touch anymore," ellie murmurs, this time her sniffles sounding clear down the line. "i don't want to be too much. i don't want you to leave."

"i'm never leaving," you reply, voice softening like a blanket. "i love you, ellie. you couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."

by all means, you should be dead right now. you were knee deep in the grave when ellie came back and she battled her way into pulling you out. brute force and fear and love combined had made a new version of ellie, one who was determined to walk you out of that hospital.

"i just… can't.. accept myself," ellie says.

"you can't accept the journey," you correct, "look at the bigger picture, els. you are able to live life now in a way you could never have imagined one year ago. i haven't seen you wearing gloves in a while. that's incredible."

"i figured they were holding me back," she mumbles sheepishly. "i try not to wear them unless i really have to."

"see? that's amazing." you smile. "when i think about the past year, i think about all the milestones. i think about the first time we held hands, then when you traced my face, then when you sat in the hospital bed with me. i think you forget that this is a process and that you're gonna struggle with it sometimes, but that's just realistic. you can't make any progress at all if you won't allow yourself to fail."

"yeah," ellie whispers. she's resorted to fiddling with the little black petal she took home, her heart swelling as she listens to your voice. the calm of it all, the patience that never dies. she blinks back tears, and then speaks up. "thanks baby."

"do you feel a little bit less like the entire world is about to crush you into tiny pieces?"

"yes." ellie lets out a halfhearted laugh, smiling. "can you please start yapping about random shit now?"

"ugh, alright. you're gonna make me lose my voice again. actually, that might be a good thing. then i won't be so annoying."

ellie lets you continue without interruption. she holds that petal up to her chest, balled into her fist, and mulls over the conversation.

she's got to keep trying.

burnt flowers became few and far between, your coughing spells less frequent than ever. ellie noticed this before you did, and it was the biggest encouragement to her conquering her fears. she was healing, finally, and so were you—all because of her. 

life has this sense of normalcy now. she doesn't bristle at the feeling of a stranger passing by, she goes without her gloves more often. she gets less stares in public. ellie can see her old best friend without him looking as though she did something bad anymore; she just isn't alone.

she can wake from terrors in the middle of the night and no longer does she have to face them alone, crying in the dark and curling into balls. you're there to bring her back down when fear shoots up her spine. you, and hope—the teddy bear, that is, but the figurative idea as well. the unwavering patience, the trust, the optimism. 

ellie can hold your hand. she can hold you. she can snuggle and play with your hair, and she likes hers to be touched too. she can feel herself never wanting to let go of you. things she only ever heard of in tales of romance and vows, that she never thought she'd get to have. things she didn't think she even deserved. 

she thought she'd die alone, and now she's drawing pictures of you in her journal and scribbling promises beneath them; forever, sweet girl.

"this is a lot of touching and not a lot of drawing," you say, laughing softly at her distraction. you don't mind one bit, of course.

when you were in hospital, and ellie had caressed every inch of surface on your face, she had tried to take it all into her memory. now, she makes a habit of it, and insists it makes it easier to draw. you think she's simply sheepish about how much she enjoys it after all these years of avoidance.

"then don't be so pretty," ellie murmurs, swiping her thumb over your lashes. your eyes flutter and she catches her lip between her teeth, stifling a sigh.

there is one goal she hasn't met yet. 

still, she hasn't kissed you. 

she comes so close and every time something stops her. at first it was her own reluctance, now, it's like life won't give her the chance. last time she tried, it felt like there was some divine being fucking with her—the sky started pouring over the both of you as soon as the moment stood still enough for her to lean in.

this time, ellie's going to seize the moment. it starts with the light urge to kiss every individual lash, then your browbone, then of course, her eyes flick to your lips as though it's instinct.

she wonders if you think she's going to chicken out again, but you're none the wiser to her intentions in the first place right now. she thinks she's putting signals out with her eyes so heavy on yours, but she hasn't seen what you see. she hasn't seen the way she looks at you on a daily basis—this is no different; her eyes are practically hearts. you feel her gazing upon your every move, never to judge, but instead to possess.

her thumb now moves to your lower lip, shaky but sure as she gently parts your smile. and your lips, no longer dry or sore, but now pillowy and smooth, are the catalyst for what she is about to do. it reminds her how long you have waited, how much you have suffered, and her the same. the neglect, the rejections, the simmering anxieties.

the final push is thanks to the shared progress translated by your lips, the healing on both ends of a love that stays ignited, crackling, and refuses to burn no matter how long it stays lit.

ellie closes her eyes and at last, her soul feels whole, lips meeting yours for the very first time. she knows it is the first of many, because even as she runs out of breath, she can't pull away. it's much like a standoff, neither of you urgent to let go of the other after all this time.

and it pains you to be the one who pulls away first, but you were beginning to feel increasingly faint. you open your eyes but ellie is sat still as a pole, her eyes sewn shut for seconds after the kiss, her cheeks ablaze.

"you nearly killed me," you mumble, giggling at the way that she glares at you after.

"you are not allowed to say that, remember?"

"it was too good not to say right now!" you erupt into laughter as she grunts and tackles you without a moment's waste, your back hitting the bed and face attacked in the softest way imaginable; her lips scouting every area, a kiss planted in each spot like a claim. "okay, easy, easy. i love you too."

🏷️ @dolleyedfemme @valeisaslut @eriiwaii @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @jinxedbambi @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0 @l0veylace @gold-dustwomxn @yashirawr @httpsiluvizzy @areyna

thank you for reading as always ♡

[vahnilla]

katie b is what i think streamer!ellie would be like

[vahnilla]

⋆ ˚｡✞ ⋆˚sanctified⋆ ˚｡✞ ⋆˚

rebel!ellie x preachers!daughter!reader

✞ summary : you, the preacher’s daughter, falls for the school’s rebellious out lesbian. shame, faith, and first love collide in a slow-burning secret romance that threatens to ruin everything - unless you’re brave enough to choose it.

your body is a prayer

✞ cw : smut, oral r!receiving, strap on sex r!receiving, fem!reader, religious trauma, internalised homophobia, emotional abuse, emotional breakdown.

✞ wk : 9,500

✞ 1 > 2 > 3

it’s been three months.

three months since your back hit the altar and ellie williams knelt between your thighs in the chapel.

three months since you stopped asking god to fix you and started asking him to understand you. since you started sleeping with your cross still around your neck, but not for the same reasons.

no one knows.

no one dares to know. not about you. you’re the preacher’s daughter. the vessel of all things pure. the example.

but your body hums with disobedience. quiet and constant. like the sound of a bell that’s been ringing in your chest since you were old enough to be afraid of your own reflection.

and ellie? ellie is gasoline to that flame.

you still pretend not to look at her when she lights joints behind the gym and blows smoke toward the heavens. when she skips communion and leans back in her desk chair during morning worship, mouthing lyrics to you like a joke. when she walks the halls with her hoodie pulled up, biting her nails, looking at you like she already knows how this ends.

you keep your hands to yourself.

most of the time.

but sometimes… sometimes your fingertips graze hers when you pass her in the hallway. sometimes you find notes in your textbooks - little drawings of your lips, your hands, the slope of your neck. sometimes you open your phone in the dark and see nothing but her name, typed and unsent.

and sometimes - like tonight - you crawl out of your dorm window, walk barefoot across damp grass, and let her fuck you breathless in the art studio while the saints weep from the stained glass.

the studio: 11:03pm

it’s raining.

not hard. not loud. but steady, like a breath held against your skin.

you slip inside quietly. the studio smells like paint thinner and pencil shavings. you love it. you hate that you love it.

ellie’s sitting on the floor. hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows, a smudge of graphite on her jaw, sketchbook in her lap. she doesn’t look up when you close the door.

“took you long enough.”

you roll your eyes, toe off your shoes. “i had to sneak out past sister maria. she was doing a room check.”

ellie hums. “you could’ve told her you were going to confess your sins.”

you walk past her, letting your fingers drag across her shoulder. “i do that every time i’m with you.”

that gets her attention.

ellie looks up.

and for a second, the smirk fades. her mouth parts. her eyes go soft.

you see it then - the crack in her, the wound she won’t name. she’s been quieter lately. drawing more, talking less. touching you like it’s the last time, every time.

you sit beside her.

silence.

then:

“you still think it’s wrong?” she asks, not looking at you.

you stare at your hands.

“i think…” you swallow. “i think it’s wrong that i was taught to believe you’re the devil.”

ellie blinks.

then she laughs, but it’s not cruel. just tired. “hot devil, though.”

you smile despite yourself.

and that’s when she kisses you.

slow. familiar. gentle.

but underneath, always - the heat, the ache, the thing neither of you can name out loud.

hours later you’re lying on the floor, tangled up in each other. ellie’s sketchbook is open beside you. there’s a drawing of you asleep, mouth parted, hand curled near your chest.

it’s so intimate you almost can’t look at it.

ellie’s fingers trace your hip bone, slow and absent.

“you gonna tell your dad?”

the words hit like a slap.

you close your eyes. “no.”

ellie says nothing.

then, quietly:

“he’s gonna find out anyway.”

you nod.

because you know.

and because you don’t know what you’ll do when he does.

the moment you see the photo, the room spins.

the chapel’s holy quiet is shattered by the harsh glow of your phone screen, ellie’s face pressed against yours, your skirt riding high, your fingers tangled in her hair. and beneath the image, the cruel words: “preacher’s daughter getting saved by the dyke. how poetic.”

your breath catches. your hands shake so hard you nearly drop the phone.

you don’t remember rising. you don’t remember running. only the pounding of your heart against your ribs, the bitter taste of panic and shame flooding your mouth.

ellie finds you behind the rectory, where the shadows crowd close and no one can see. she’s already there, waiting, her eyes flickering with the same fear you feel.

“they saw us,” you whisper, voice barely a breath.

her jaw tightens. “who?”

“i don’t know. someone from school.” you shake your head, the cold sinking deep. “they sent it to my father.”

ellie’s body stills like you slapped her. the fierceness drains from her posture, replaced by a fragile quiet.

“i’m sorry,” you say, voice cracking. “i didn’t mean for this to happen.”

she looks at you, eyes raw with something fierce and sad. “it’s not your fault.”

but you know it is.

you know the fire is coming. and you don’t know if you’re ready to burn.

when your father storms onto campus two days later, the sky is swollen with gray clouds, and the air tastes of rain and thunder.

he doesn’t wait for permission. his voice cuts through the quiet corridors, sharp and accusing, as he leads you to the headmistress’s office.

ellie follows behind you, defiant but careful.

the principal’s office is a cage. windows shut tight, the walls lined with faded diplomas and a crucifix that seems to mock the moment.

your father’s eyes burn into you. “you’ve disgraced yourself. disgraced me.”

you stare at the polished floor.

ellie’s hand finds yours beneath the table, warm and steady.

your father doesn’t even glance at her.

“you were meant to be a beacon,” he says, voice low but icy. “a vessel of god’s grace.”

“she’s a person,” ellie interrupts, voice firm. “not your property.”

your father snaps his gaze to her, lips curling in disgust.

“she’s an abomination,” he spits. “you’ve led her astray.”

ellie’s jaw tightens. “she was already lost. i just showed her she wasn’t alone.”

you swallow the lump in your throat. you want to speak. to fight. but the shame is a weight too heavy.

later, when the storm has moved on and the world feels hollow and distant, you sit on your bed in the dim light of your dorm room.

ellie is beside you, close enough to touch, but you feel miles away.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you confess, voice barely a whisper. “i still hear his words in my head. like I’m dirty. like i’m broken.”

ellie’s fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “you’re not broken. you’re just scared.”

you bite your lip, tears threatening. “i’m scared of what i want. scared that god hates me for it. scared that i’m hurting you just by being me.”

her eyes soften, fierce and tender all at once.

“you’re not hurting me,” she says. “you’re hurting yourself by holding it in.”

you lean into her touch, the first real comfort you’ve felt in weeks.

ellie pulls you close, arms wrapping around your trembling shoulders. “i love you,” she murmurs. “every part of you. even the scared parts.”

you let the tears fall, burying your face in her neck. for once, you don’t fight the broken pieces inside you. instead, you let her hold them, help carry the weight.

the next day is hard.

but it’s also the day you decide.

you walk into the chapel, head held high, despite the whispers.

you catch ellie’s eye across the room, her silent anchor.

when your father appears in the doorway, eyes blazing with fury, you don’t flinch.

he strides over, voice low and dangerous. “you will come home with me. you will end this.”

you take a breath, steady as you can.

“no,” you say, voice strong. “i’m not ashamed of who i love.”

ellie steps forward, protective and fierce.

“touch her,” she warns, “and you’ll regret it.”

your father hesitates, then storms out without another word.

you turn to ellie, breathless, heart pounding.

she pulls you into a rough, desperate kiss, as if sealing the vow you just made.

“i love you,” you whisper against her lips.

ellie smiles - a real, vulnerable smile - and replies, “i love you too. always.”

the storm has passed.

but something still trembles inside you, raw and aching in the quiet aftermath of everything that’s been said, everything that’s been broken and chosen.

ellie’s room is dim, lit only by the golden spill of her desk lamp. her bed is unmade, her sketchbook open beside a half-finished drawing of your mouth.

you sit at the edge of her mattress, heart racing, still tasting the sharp ghost of your father’s voice in your ears. the shame is quieter now, but not gone.

ellie stands across the room, watching you carefully. like she doesn’t know what you need. like she’s afraid of giving you too much or not enough.

“i’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” she says finally, voice low.

“i’m not,” you admit.

she nods once. “but you’re still here.”

you look at her then - really look.

she’s so much more than her reputation. more than the weed and the fights and the rumors. ellie is hands that shake when she’s scared. ellie is softness wrapped in armor. ellie is a girl who loves you like she doesn’t believe she should be allowed to.

“i love you,” you say again, quieter this time. more like a truth than a declaration.

ellie crosses the room without speaking.

she kneels in front of you, gently parts your legs, and places her hands on your thighs like she’s asking permission to breathe.

“i need you to know something,” she says, looking up at you, eyes wide and scared. “if you tell me to stop, i will. if you need to slow down, or back out, or fall apart, i’ll be here for all of it. i just need you to know that.”

you nod, your throat tight.

“i don’t want you to stop,” you whisper.

ellie’s hands move slow, like every inch of you is sacred.

she starts by kissing your thighs. one, then the other. her mouth lingers over your skin, open and reverent. she looks up at you with blown pupils and shaky breath, like she can’t believe she gets to do this.

she slides your skirt up, slowly. pauses. waits for your nod before hooking her fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down your legs, so slowly it hurts.

when she presses a kiss just above your clit, your entire body shudders.

“you’re shaking,” she murmurs.

“i want you.”

that’s all it takes.

ellie groans softly and lowers her mouth to you; tongue warm, slow, purposeful. she licks a long stripe up your center before flattening her tongue and pressing it firm against your clit.

you cry out.

her hands grip your thighs, anchoring you as she moves, each motion practiced, gentle, devastating. she licks you with intention, with care. she doesn’t rush. she doesn’t tease.

she worships.

“fuck,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut. “ellie…”

she hums against you, and the vibration sends another wave through your stomach.

“you taste so good,” she says, voice hoarse. “you’re so wet for me, baby.”

you cover your mouth with one hand to keep from moaning too loud. the other twists into her hair, grounding yourself as your hips buck up into her face.

ellie groans when you do that, like she loves how desperate you are. she licks you harder, faster, her nose brushing your pelvis, her tongue flicking just right.

you come with a soft cry, trembling under her mouth, legs locked around her shoulders as everything inside you breaks and burns and finally, finally lets go.

but she doesn’t stop.

not yet.

she kisses up your stomach, your ribs, your chest, pulling your blouse open, unbutton by unbutton, until you’re bare and gasping beneath her.

ellie lies on top of you, warm skin pressed to yours.

you feel her breath on your neck.

“i want to fuck you,” she whispers. “can i?”

you nod without thinking. “yes. please.”

she reaches into her nightstand, pulls out the strap - black, familiar, worn at the edges.

you watch her put it on, hands shaking a little, eyes never leaving yours. she climbs between your thighs again, guides the tip through your slick folds, rubbing gently against your clit until you’re squirming beneath her.

“look at me,” she says softly.

you do.

and when she pushes in - slow, careful, steady - you swear the air leaves your lungs.

your back arches. her name slips from your lips like a prayer.

she groans low in her throat, hips sinking deeper.

“you feel so fucking good,” she whispers. “so tight for me. you were made for this. for me.”

she starts to move, slow thrusts, deep and deliberate. each push hits something inside you that makes your toes curl, your breath catch.

ellie leans down, pressing her forehead to yours. her hand finds yours, fingers interlacing.

you’re both gasping now.

her voice cracks. “i love you.”

you cry when she says it. because it’s too much. because it’s everything.

you squeeze her hand.

“i love you too,” you whisper. “i think i always have.”

ellie fucks you deeper, slower, like she’s trying to make the words real with her body. like she’s afraid she’ll never get another chance.

your legs wrap around her waist, anchoring her to you. you’re close again - burning, shaking, unraveling.

“come for me, baby,” she breathes. “i want to feel you. want to see what i do to you.”

you fall apart in her arms.

and this time, when you cry, it isn’t out of shame.

it’s because - for once - you feel whole.

✞ perm taglist : @yasmilks , @frosttbitten , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool , @0phantom0 , @ggutpunch , @leeidk87 , @mikellie , @celiacallsitcasual , @gurlbownerr , @l0veylace , @bluminescent-moon , @oatmatchalatte , @hitmehardmommy , @iadorefineshyt , @jksevendays , @liztreez , @clemrules , @yourl0caltrash , @rootytootymeow , @thebadwritersposts , @vanillacigarettes777 <3

[vahnilla]

sucking her strap like a popsicle

[vahnilla]

bleach me, baby.⭑ ݁˖

⭑ word count: 3,1k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭑ content warnings: sub!reader x top!ellie, oral sex (r!receiving), tit play, shower sex, hair dye/bleach antics, stablished relationship, fake blonde ellie…?? (we TWININ), DUMB AF so im sorry in advance, AFAB reader. MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes, reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

header edited by my beloved @satellitespinner <3 ilysm

you’re both barefoot in the kitchen when ellie casually drops the bomb — still lounging in pajamas despite the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, leftover pancakes going cold on the counter.

she's perched on the edge of the table, one leg swinging lazily, syrup smeared on the corner of her mouth. she tucks a strand of auburn behind her ear and tosses it out like it’s just a passing thought, as if it doesn’t hold any significance and its not going to make your brain immediately short-circuit.

“thinkin’ of going blonde.”

you freeze mid-sip, nearly choking as the coffee stalls halfway to your lips, sloshing dangerously close to disaster.

“blonde?!”

she nods peacefully, licking maple off her thumb. “like… white-trash, on-the-run, don’t-ask-me-where-i-came-from blonde. bottle blonde. the kind of blonde that makes people suspicious.”

you nearly choke. again. “jesus.”

she grins at you, wide and unrepentant. “what? you don’t think it’d be hot?”

“i think you’d look like you just crashed a car into a liquor store.”

she squints. “so like... hot.”

you finally let yourself giggle, stepping between her knees. “okay, then. we can call the salon, get you an appointment for next week—”

but ellie’s already shaking her head, fingers catching in your belt loops, tugging you closer. “nope,” she says, voice a little too self-assured. “i want you to do it.”

you blink. “me?”

“you.”

you narrow your eyes, still not entirely convinced this isn’t another one of your stupid girlfriend’s even stupider jokes. “ellie, i’m not a hairdresser.”

“babe, that’s like, the whole point!”

“you’re going to regret saying that when your hair starts melting off.” you deadpan, as if you need to remind her—and maybe yourself—that this could end in flames. literally.

she leans in, syrup still on the corner of her lips. “then i’ll just have to let you shave it. britney spears era. bald and unhinged.”

you roll your eyes but snort despite the scenery currently unfolding. “you’re insane.”

“maybe, but at least i’ll be iconic.”

you sigh, the sound resigned and dramatic, accepting the doom of your fate as you reach for your keys.

“god help me. if your scalp falls off, we’re breaking up.”

and you don't exactly know how or when you ended in this position, but now a plastic drugstore bag hangs off the doorknob, bloated with bleach kits, toning shampoo, a rat-tail comb you spent five minutes trying to identify in aisle nine, and gloves that are definitely too big for your hands.

ellie’s in a tank top, hair damp and messy, neck freckled and pink from where you’d kissed her earlier on the couch. she’s sitting backwards on the closed toilet lid, a towel around her shoulders, smirking at her reflection like a girl who knows she’s about to do something really dumb and can’t wait to see how it turns out.

you snap on the gloves and shake the bleach kit in your hands, then mix the developer and powder in a little plastic bowl, the smell burning sharp at the back of your throat while ellie watches you with a mix of amusement and affection.

you start slow. your legs drape across her lap, bare skin against bare skin, knees bent on either side of her hips as you settle above her thighs. the bathroom’s too small, too warm, and the smell of hydrogen peroxide hangs thick in the air — sharp and chemical, biting the inside of your nose until your eyes turn watery.

her tank is somehow already spotted with bleach, little constellations of chaos splattered across the fabric. you’re in your sleep shirt—old, oversized, barely hanging off one shoulder—the hem brushing against her thigh every time you shift in her lap. her fingers rest lightly on your hips.

the bowl of toner teeters dangerously on the counter behind you, and the cheap plastic brush trembles in your grip like it knows it's not nearly qualified for this task.“ellie. this is a terrible idea,” you murmur. “i’m scared.”

“good. keeps you humble.”

“you keep talking like that and i’m giving you leopard spots.”

“kinky.”

“shut up.”

she hums, eyes flicking up to yours. “you’re the one who sat on me.”

“you said it’d be easier!”

“i lied. i just wanted your ass on me.”

you snort and try not to smile, but it pulls at your mouth anyway. 

your fingers finally slide into her hair — soft, parted sloppily into sections with the comb that now lives somewhere on the floor. you start with the pieces that frame her face, brushing them forward so they hang loose near her cheeks.

ellie tips her chin up, lets her eyes fall shut.

you gather a lock in your gloved fingers, and begin painting the bleach from root to tip, watching it soak in like white-out on a dark page. the paste glows faintly under the light, ghostly against the reddish-brown of her natural color.

her hands flex against your hips when you lean forward to reach the next strand. your breath ghosts her skin and her lips part, letting out a shaky exhale.

“this is kinda hot,” she murmurs, voice low, like she’s saying it more to herself than to you. “you touching me all careful... fucking up my hair... feels so intimate.”

your fingers still for a second before you glance at her, eyes flicking down to her flushed cheeks, to the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“you’re so weird.” you whisper.

“mm,” she shrugs. “you love it.”

you dip the brush again while rolling your eyes, smearing bleach through the next section. her hair begins to clump in pale-violet streaks, turning lighter with each stroke, and still — she doesn’t move. just sits there, legs parted, your weight balanced on top of her.

you take your time with the strands at the back, working slowly — more confident than when you started, but still careful. ellie’s hair isn’t long, not enough to make this a real ordeal, just soft tufts and uneven layers that cling to your gloves as you drag the mixture through.

you angle closer, chest pressing forward as you lean in to reach the base of her skull.

ellie shifts, straightening a little, and your chest brushes her cheek. barely, just a graze — the soft curve of your breasts against her jaw as you tilt her head forward with one hand, using the other to get a clean angle on the last section at the nape of her neck.

her skin prickles under the contact. you pretend not to notice, but your breath catches.

she doesn't say anything — just blinks up at you through a low-lidded haze, eyes flicking from your mouth to your collarbone, then back again as your gloved thumb pushes a damp piece of hair away.

her breath ghosts over your sternum, warm and shallow.

“you know...” you say lowly, tone light as you coat the final piece and pull away “if this goes bad, you owe me a blowjob.”

she laughs, loud and bright. “deal.”

you raise an eyebrow. “that was really fast.”

“yeah, well. i was gonna do it anyway.”

your mouth curves, “so if it goes good?”

“you get two.”

you hum and toss the brush in the sink, then settle your hands on her shoulders and let your thumb slide beneath the edge of the towel, brushing the warm skin just beneath her collarbone.

“deal, then.”

thirty minutes later, the bleach is rinsed out, the chaos contained—barely—and you’re kneeling on the bathroom tiles like some half-mad alchemist, bowl of purple toner in your lap, gloved fingers coated in violet as you run them gently through strands of half-dry and now light hair.

ellie sits in front of you on a stool dragged in from the hallway, legs wide, topless. a towel hangs low around her waist, her skin still flushed from the heat of the water, freckled breasts rising and falling with slow, amused breaths. her hair, damp and golden, catches the light like a star.

you coat the last piece near her temple, careful to avoid her ear this time. she’d made a scene—more like a full oscar-winning production—when bleach slipped into it earlier, clutching the sink like she’d been shot, insisting she could “hear her secrets and sins fizzing in her brain.”

and earlier—god. when the bleach started to tingle, that slow sting blooming across her scalp, you caught the tiniest flicker of panic in her eyes. she blinked fast, jaw clenched, clearly trying to channel the spirit of someone braver, like a soldier in a war movie or a guy about to get a tattoo he can’t afford to back out of. “’m fine,” she snapped, sitting up straighter like good posture was gonna cancel out the chemical burn.

you leaned down to check on her, already suspicious, and yep—her lashes were wet. not full tears, but just the subtle, heartbreaking shimmer of someone trying very hard to act unbothered while her scalp was on fire.

“my eyes are just sensitive,” she mumbled before you could even say anything. “from the light. or the bleach fumes. or the political climate in this godforsaken country.”

“done!” you say, sitting back on your heels, peeling the gloves off with a snap. “you need to let that sit for a few minutes before we rinse.”

ellie turns her head just enough to glance at you over her shoulder, and her lips twitch. “rinse it how?”

“sink, same as before.”

but she doesn't stand up. instead, her hand reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, thumb pressing into the damp skin just beneath your pulse point.

“orrrr...” she says, voice sly, “we could just… get in the shower.”

you laugh under your breath, pretending not to feel the way your stomach flips.

“we, huh? you tryna rinse your toner and get laid at the same time? i kinda like this concept of multitasking.”

she shrugs, grinning. “i’m a woman of efficiency.”

then she pulls you gently, slowly, into her. your knees slot between hers, hands finding the curve of her jaw, and when she kisses you—it’s warm, wet, familiar in a way that still knocks the wind out of you. her lips are soft but purposeful, still sticky with the remnants of laughter, still tasting faintly of spearmint and syrup.

and when she breaks away, breathless, eyes lidded, she mumbles against your mouth, “c’mon. before i start leaking purple.”

you both strip with clumsy fingers and half-choked giggles, bumping into walls and knocking over shampoo bottles, and then the curtain’s drawn, and the shower hisses to life around you.

the water starts cool, then warms with a soft hiss, steam curling up in a pale cloud. ellie steps in first, the purple streaks in her hair darkening under the spray, trailing lavender rivers down her spine. she leans back into it with a sigh, hands slicking her hair through, letting the water do its slow, messy magic.

you step in after her, shivering once before the heat wraps around you. your hands find her waist, thumbs brushing the edge of her ribs as you guide her under the stream. she leans into you without hesitation, her back flush against your chest now, body molten and relaxed under your touch.

the toner spills in violet spirals down her back, swirling around your feet like ink dropped into glass.

your fingers comb through her hair, careful not to tug. you take your time, dragging your nails gently along her scalp, and she tilts her head back with a soft groan.

“jesus,” she whispers. “keep doin’ that and i’m gonna forget my own name.”

you smile into the curve of her shoulder, mouth kissing the heat-softened skin there as your fingers work slow through her hair, chasing out the last ribbons of purple until the water runs clear.

you pull back just enough to look at her, to see her.

and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

“ellie,” you whisper, cupping her cheek, guiding her to face you fully. the droplets catch on her lashes, her freckled nose, the strong line of her jaw. her wet hair—pale now, streaked silver-gold and damp—frames her face like moonlight.

you run your thumb just beneath her eye, slow and careful. “it looks amazing.”

ellie blinks, caught off guard for half a second. “really?”

you nod, breath hitching in your throat. “yeah. like… dangerously hot. borderline illegal.”

she grins, tongue poking behind her teeth. “that’s the goal.” she then leans closer, dragging her hands down your waist. “so, just to be clear—you’re saying I look good.”

“i’m saying you look too good,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, smug now. “which means…”

ellie raises an eyebrow, amused. “means what?”

you tilt your head, pretend to think, then smirk.

“means I remember our deal, blondie.”

ellie’s smirk falters, shifts, melts into something heavier.

her fingers tighten at your waist, grip no longer playful, and her gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth, then lower—dragging over the slope of your throat, the shine of your collarbone, the way water clinging to the swell of your breasts like it’s worshiping them. every drop catches the light, turns your bare skin into something untouchable.

“fuck,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “look at you.”

you lift your chin, teasing. “if you’re backing out of our agreement—”

but you don’t get to finish— because ellie’s already reaching for you.

her hands slide up your sides, fingers wet and firm, and she pulls you in with a slow, hungry kind of gravity. her mouth crashes into yours like she’s starved for it, like kissing you is the only thing keeping her upright. it’s deep, messy, all tongue and breath and the soft hitch of your moan when her teeth catch your bottom lip. you melt into her instantly, hands threading through the damp strands of her light hair.

she backs you into the shower wall without breaking the kiss, one hand cradling your jaw while the other drags down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. her mouth pulls away only to breathe—quick, ragged—and then she’s kissing down, open-mouthed along your throat, sucking just beneath your ear, where your pulse hammers loud and fast.

and then lower.

her tongue traces a path between your breasts, slow and reverent, and when her mouth closes around your nipple, you gasp sharply. the suction is immediate, her tongue flicking, lips pulling softly, and she groans low in her throat like she needs it —like the taste of you is making her lose focus. her hand cups the other breast, thumb dragging across the peak, pinching just enough to make your hips twitch against her.

she alternates between the two, teasing, sinking her teeth in just enough to sting. your head tips back against the tile, breath shaky, fingers buried in her damp hair. water drums against your back, hot and rhythmic, but it’s background now. the only thing you really feel is her.

her hands glide down the backs of your thighs, anchoring you with a firm grip, and her mouth trails heat down your stomach, open kisses scattered across your skin.

she presses her lips just above your hipbone and pauses, looking up through soaked lashes, green irises dark and hooded, and catches you staring down at her—wide-eyed, wrecked, completely gone. her blonde hair’s slick and wild, sticking to her forehead, strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. you don’t even try to hide how ruined you look.

“what?” she murmurs, voice thick and warm, lips grazing your skin like a spell.

you brace your palm against the tile behind you, heart racing, thighs already trembling.

“fuck… i’m just not used to you blonde,” you whisper, voice cracking halfway through. “you look—”

she cuts you off with a quiet hum, something close to a growl.

“you will,” she mutters, and then her hands are back on you—firm, sure, rough in all the right ways. she grips the underside of your thigh, lifts, and pushes your knee in her shoulder, sudden, a little filthy, a lot intimate. the cold of the tile seeps into your back while your whole front lights up under her touch.

“you’ll get used to seeing it,” she whispers, eyes dark and gleaming, her mouth inches from where you need her. “especially between your legs.”

your breath punches out of you like she knocked the air from your lungs.

and before you can try to reply, her tongue parts you slowly, the flat of her tongue dragging through your folds with maddening precision. she groans as soon as she tastes you, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your hips jerk in her grip, making her hands anchor them as her mouth moves deeper, sloppier.

you grab at her hair, tugging gently—like you need something to hold onto, like the earth is tilting. your hips twitch forward, but she keeps holding you steady, mouth greedy and reverent all at once, licking into you like she’s trying to etch herself into the most vunerable part of you.

“jesus, ellie—fuck!—”

she moans low, the vibration buzzing straight through you, and the sound she makes is nothing short of worship.

she works you open with her mouth, slow then sharp, mouth sucking and tongue flicking on your clit, every movement matched to the ragged sound of your breath. she whimpers into you when you pull her hair, when your thighs begin to tremble, when you gasp her name as if it’s a secret slipping out. “ellie! im—”

“c’mon, love. let me have it.” she rasps, pulling back just enough to drag her tongue up your slick heat. her lips glisten, her voice is wrecked.

you cry out, grinding down against her mouth without thinking, and she meets you there—matching every frantic motion, letting you ride it out until your vision whites out, your knees go weak, your whole body collapsing into the tiles like you were built to fall for her.

and still, her mouth lingers. slow, soothing now.

and you finally look down again—see her hair dripping, lips swollen, freckles slick with steam and want—you can’t help but laugh, breathless and slightly delirious.

“what?” she murmurs, smiling against your skin, breath still warm, lips brushing the inside of your thigh.

she keeps you in a trance, dazed, jaw slack, voice barely there. “you look even hotter from down there.”

her teeth catches her bottom lip. she already knows the effect she’s having.

“then I’ll stay right here,” she says, and sinks her mouth back into you.

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ the girls from the server bullied me into writing this LMAOOO i swear it’s so dumb i’m actually logging OFF. they saw ONE (1) blonde ellie pfp and immediately lost all sense of self-control. it was over before it began. and listen… i’m a giver. a woman of the people. i live to serve. they basically own me at this point. anyway i hope you all enjoyed the chaos i just dropped, consider it a gift from your local server clown 🤍 love you all endlessly <3

perm taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <3): @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andieprincessofpower @mayfldss @sunflowerwinds @coastalwilliams @hotpinkskitties @ssijht @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @sewithinsouls @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 @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @elliewilliamskisser2000 @azxteria @elliecoochieeater @doodl3b3ans

dividers from @cafekitsune <3

[vahnilla]

MISERY LOVES COMPANY (E.W) ⌖

⌖ butch!exbsf!ellie x mom!exbsf!reader.

⌖ wordcount: 6.4k

⌖ content warnings: angst, mentions of alcoholism, and drug abuse. reader has kids and an ex husband, SMUT too!ellie, bottom!reader, no dom/sub dynamics, shower sex, pussy eating, scissoring/tribbing, fingering, past allusions to sleepover makeouts, lots of detail, not alot of dialogue, references to religion, ellie is a dick, forgiveness, arguements, abuse? comments, critiques, and reblogs are widely appreciated, talk to me and i’ll talk back! ⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

thank you so much to my dearest love, @valeisaslut for proofreading and motivating me to finish this. you wouldnt have this without her.

1:00 AM, SATURDAY MORNING.

Your temples pound against your skull, the pen in your hand trembles with the rest of your body. The stacks of papers that covered your table were telling of your stress levels, bills, and grocery prices plagued your mind whilst your body functioned on autopilot.

You had just gotten your youngest to fall asleep, and were now trying your hardest to focus on organizing the absolute mess of your personal life. you probably should’ve given up for the night and gone to bed unfulfilled, but you didn’t. instead you filled out form after form, and scribbled down grocery lists for weeks to come. “fucks sake,” you mutter under your breath, even the sound of your own breathing was irritating you.

time moved as if the clock was scared to startle you, slowly and quietly. the blaring ringing in your ears was probably the only thing keeping you awake, barely alert, but still conscious. your lethargic state is disrupted when your phone begins to buzz on the table. you rushed to silence the ringtone, silently pleading that the abrupt sound didn't wake your kids.

the number was unknown to you, outside of your small circle of friends, you debated answering, just to ask who, and how. but you declined. gently tossing your phone onto the table. the buzzing stopped just as quickly as it began. and you prayed to god for some sort of silence. your moments of peace were short, however. cut off by the persistent caller attempting to reach you once again.

you scoffed and stood up from your chair, pressing the answer button aggressively.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” you whisper yell into the phone, trying your absolute hardest to keep quiet. the person on the other line coughs, “Who even is this?” they don't reply, all you can hear is their jagged breaths into the phone.

“Hello?” you press, your voice dripping with frustration, your head was pounding, your throat was screaming - you didn't have time for this.

“wait, don't hang up.” the person clears their throat, pressing the phone into their ear further, “Please.” the unknown woman roughly pleads with you, the rugged voice wasnt hard to distinguish from one you’ve heard many times before. although you hadn’t heard it in years, you knew.

you didn't have to hear anything else before you knew who it was, your heart dropped when the realization hit you. Ellie. Ellie that you haven’t talked to in years was calling you from what you suspected to be a pay phone.

“What the fu- Ellie?” if you weren’t awake before this, you sure as hell were now. Ellie laughs into the phone, an awkward tic that she did often.

“Yeah, hi. hey.” her voice cracked, you sighed aloud into the phone. your fingers massaging your temples to soothe the ache that hadn’t faded. If anything the pain had gotten worse, now seeping into the rest of your body.

“Listen i'm sor-” “where are you?” her breath hitches, her voice dripping with disappointment, insecurity replaces the blood in her veins, flowing all the way to her heart, where it would stay.

“The tipsy bison.” you scoffed, finally realizing the exact reasoning for her reaching out. “you’re calling me to come get you from the bar, Ellie?” Her silence is confirmation to her motives, you hear her sigh into the phone, twirling with the cord to distract her fingers.

you wanted to tell her to get fucked, to berate her for calling for the first time in years with the only intention of getting picked up from the bar. you wanted to so badly let her know how selfish she is, and how much you hate her. but you didn't. instead you silently grabbed your car keys and told her to stay put. hanging up the phone without a second thought.

you had just fought with your kids to go down, their room dark, and filled with silence. and you were not about to disrupt that.

The bar was empty when you walked in, the only two people present were the owner, Seth, and Ellie. The dull environment was disrupted when you stomped your way over to the counter.

“What happened?” you question Seth, eyes focused solely on him. You didn't dare shift your gaze to meet hers, and she could tell. Her head hung lowly, an expression that resembled a kicked puppy.

Seth cleared his throat before grabbing a bottle from underneath the counter, showing off its lack of contents.

“Wise girl here, had a few drinks too many..” he set the bottle down, and turned around to grab another one— again, almost empty. “Of the most expensive shit we’ve got.” he sighs. Your expression matches his, both displeased.

You sigh out loud, and reach into your purse for your wallet. A picture of your kids falls out onto the floor, and it mocks Ellie as she picks it up.

“How much do I owe you?” you look up from your wallet for confirmation, but Seth dismisses you with a flick of his hand.

“I don't want your money, just get her outta’ here.” you let out a sigh of relief, tucking your wallet back into its spot, as you rush Ellie out of the seat and grab your keys from your pocket. Before you leave, you thank Seth one last time with a nod. He waves you off before going back to whatever he was doing before the catastrophe that Ellie embodied.

The car ride is tense. Neither of you have spoken a word since you hung up the phone earlier, or at least not directly. You’re about halfway home when Ellie digs the picture out of her pocket and holds it up to you.

“Yours?” she questions, a sly smile on her face. Her voice was raspy, cracking, resounding in a way only alcohol could influence. You scoff and pluck the picture from between her fingertips.

“Yes, mine.” you pay no mind to it as you shove it into your console. Out of sight, out of mind.

“So, I take it you’re married?” she asks, shifting in her seat, fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket. You scoff at her question, opting for not answering instead of explaining.

“‘S he nice?” her fingers now found solace in tapping on the dashboard. Ellie's fidgety habits only contributed to your anxiety, causing the ache in your head to return. She nods at your silence, taking it as compliance. “Cause, I mean— if you have kids you’ve gotta have a husband—’’

“Fuck off!” you exclaim, louder than you’d intended. Ellie stares at you, jaw slack. She shoves herself back into her seat, sinking into it further.

“Jesus christ, Ellie! I can clearly see you haven’t shut up in ten years.”

Ellie scoffs loudly, “Me?! you’re married with kids! what the fuck is that about?!”

“What?! I'm not- You’re mad because I moved on with my life and didn't turn out like you?” your right hand has left the wheel now, flailing around as you yell at the girl. Your anger is taking over. You didn’t mean to be so hurtful, but it slips out anyway.

“No?! I'm mad because you left me and then barely called for 4 years.”

“I wasn't about to let you drag me down with you Ellie. I had goals.” you reason, thinking back onto your teenage years. How you and Ellie drifted apart after she began drinking. You thought back to your old life, the love you had, and the love that left.

“You left me!”

“I loved you!”

Your words pang Ellie straight in the heart, shutting her up rather quickly. All the things left unspoken throughout your friendship bleeding from that once sentence.

I loved you. loved you. loved

You loved her.

Not anymore.

“I loved you so much that I thought losing me would fix you,” you say as you look over at her, her eyes straight forward, and to anyone else it would look like she was trying to crack the windshield.

“Yeah, well. It didn't. At all.” she whispers, the tension in the car slowly easing into a solemn environment. Guilt pangs in your chest at Ellie's confession, your own perspective now feeling like an act of betrayal, selfishness disguised as a saviour.

“...And I don't have a husband,” you muttered, your mind quickly jumping to summarize a short recollection of your past marriage. Ellie could see the gears turning in your mind, and she was still curious but didn't pry. She didn't have to, after all, you just kept talking. “He died overseas, he was in the military.” You explained. Ellie looked over at you, her eyes shifting from angry to sympathetic.

“M’ sorry” she placed a gentle hand on your thigh, something she did often back when you were friends, a gesture that held more meaning than any words. Her eyes no longer hold the fire of her past resentment, her anger subsiding quickly with the knowledge of your struggles.

Ellie's mind flashes back to the picture, your two children's faces replaying in her mind.

You were never hers, and now, you were even farther from it.

“Do you have somewhere you want me to drop you off?” your voice cuts her thoughts in half. Her brain rushing to hyper focus on your words. You, you, you. She could hardly believe that she was in your car and you were already trying to get rid of her.

“Uh, no - no I don't. Didn't think that far ahead.” she chuckles lowly, eyes shifting back to her lap. You notice the lack of Ellie's grip on your thigh, a soothing feeling replaced by a cold outline of her hand. A reminder.

“Okay, well I'll just take you to mine for the night.” Ellie doesn't have time to think before you’re pulling into a friendly looking neighborhood. Ellie sits up right in her seat, inspecting the houses as they pass by. It was a clean, small area. Consisting mostly of small bungalows and single family homes. The area screamed “My kids play soccer and we go to church twice a week.” and she wondered what had shifted. You were never that type.

A few more minutes of awkward, tension-filled, silence pass by before you pull into your driveway. A smaller brick house, the outside adorned with plants. Ellie's eyes can't miss the colourful playhouse in the middle of the yard. You can see her getting shifty, and you silently hoped that her uneasiness would sober her up a bit.

Slowly, you both exit the car. Ellie's walking like she's on a tightrope, while you can't wait to see the comfort of your bed. Your nerves slowly decrease as you walk into your hook, holding the door open so she can stumble in behind you.

“It’s small, but comfy.” you say as you give her a solemn smile, and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. She steadies, shrugging off her coat into your arms.

To Ellie, something had shifted, based on the way you weren’t even certain of welcoming her into your home at first, but now that she was here. You were sitting her down at the kitchen table and setting a tall, chilled glass of water in front of her. “Drink that while I fix you up something to eat.”

Ellie nods, she's not hungry but she knows she should eat.

You don't know why you're doing this, all you had to do was point her in the direction of the couch and take yourself to bed. But instead, you stay, kitchen lights dim while you mix batter in a metal bowl.

Maybe, it was because you felt an obligation to Ellie, a tie from one soul to another. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe you just felt bad for her and wanted to make yourself feel better about your past actions. Maybe you had some unresolved feelings you weren’t aware of.

“Can I help?” she inquires, her once full glass now empty, her words fuller, more casual. As if this was a regular hangout between two friends, and not the result of a drunken phone call, an act of service. A sad excuse of reconciliation.

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical of her abilities to actually help, rather than goofing off. “Sure..” she nods curtly, standing up from her chair. You hand her the bowl and spoon carefully, instructing her to mix it while you retrieve a pan from the cupboard.

You’re not sure whose amazing idea it was to give a drunk girl a bowl full of pancake batter to handle all by herself - but it wasn’t yours. Because now, you had to deal with the consequences of the sticky goo flying at the side of your face. Your mouth falls agape, a smile forcing itself through your expression. “Ellie!” you whisper yell, and she throws a smile your way, paired with a quick “oops,”. Your soft laughter fills the room, and you're quick to retaliate by dipping your finger into the bowl, painting a small dot on her nose with the batter.

Now it was Ellie's turn to gasp in faux surprise – as if she hadn’t expected it–, she took the wooden spoon out of the bowl, you recognized what she was trying to do, quickly throwing up your hands to hopefully block your face from further damage. You flinch when you feel the pancake mix soak your hands, and gasp when you realize that there was a considerate amount decorating your hair.

Ellie's pale skin flushes, she quickly drops the bowl onto the counter with a rather pound pang. “I am so sorry,” she snorts, rushing to stifle her laugh. She calls out to you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them down from over your face. The mixture drips onto the counter, a small droplet from your hair makes its way down your face.

“We’re not gonna have enough batter for your hangover meal!” you laugh, it would be hard to find any spiteful undertones in your comment, but Ellie's chest still pangs, the small feeling of guilt making her stomach churn and her smile falter.

She looks over at you, rinsing your hands in the sink, the warm water slowly drenching your skin. Ellie makes her way back to the table “maybe i'm just not built for the pancake business.” She states, dramatically sighing as her chair dings into the back of her neck, sulking.

“Or, maybe, you just wanted to cause trouble..” you resume, body now pressed against the stove, the soft sizzle of the pan providing a background noise. Ellie's eyes scan you, your body, your soft ponytail. She dares herself to take a few steps forward, imagining herself slowly hugging you from behind, pressing her lips to your soft, supple skin. But she doesn't. She wouldn’t cross that line.

You two had only ever gotten close like that once, a time in high school that Ellie shoved into the back of her mind, forcing herself to forget about it, to try and forget it ever happened. Her mind slowly drifts back to your family, your two kids - tucked in tightly, sleeping soundly. She thinks about your husband, and how she was the opposite of him: a coward.

Before she knows it, a plate of perfectly fluffy pancakes is placed in front of her. She digs in almost immediately, scarfing the thick dough down her throat eagerly. she pauses when she notices you standing over her, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised playfully.

“Hungry?” you question, reaching over to grab the empty glass.

Ellie smirks, “Yeah, guess I am.”

You place the same glass in front of her, now full. Ellie couldn’t exactly pinpoint how you were making her feel, but your nurturing voice mixed with the dim lights of the kitchen made her stomach warm. Her mind went back to that place. Wife.

wifewifewifewifewife.

”When did you become so motherly?” she asks, mouth moving before her brain. She quickly realizes her mistake, awkwardly stammering to correct herself. “Well, you’ve always been like that– I just mean like–”

“Ellie, it's fine, I know what you meant.” you slowly sat down, placing a steady hand on top of her own. Ellie swears her brain malfunctions at your touch, your warmth easily relaxing her. She breathes out a small sigh of relief, running her other hand through her hair.

“Well, I guess I became ‘motherly’ when I had kids, you know? At first I was… iffy about becoming a mother, especially with a man who was overseas most of the time, risking his life. But, now that I have them, I wouldn't change that for the world.”

“I see, that's cute.” Ellie pauses, “I'll bet you're a good mom.” She states, now fiddling with your fingers. You feel your face get hot at the comment, you know why she said it. You had spent so much time nursing her back to sobriety that it became routine, and now, there was no difference.

“Let’s get you tucked in, hm?”

The guest room was cold, sheets fresh beneath her fingertips. It was the perfect environment for a night like— airy, sleepable. The atmosphere of the room clashed with the humid air outside.

“Good?” you ask as you walk over to her, fresh pair of pajamas in hand. Ellie nods, and you pass the clothing to her with steady hands. Ellie accepts them warily, you notice her hesitation quickly.

“You can shower if you want.” you whisper to her. She nods. “I was about to, but you go ahead.”

Ellie doesn't think, a common theme from tonight.

“I’ll join you.” she slowly stands up, eyes barely meeting yours. You shrink beneath her, her sudden surge of confidence making your legs weak.

“Wha- like, together?” you question, jumping over your words. Stammering, stuttering.

Ellie doesn't know what she's doing, but she knows that she can't back down now,

“Yeah, saves water.” she shrugs, feigning nonchalance. She shrugs, leaning over you.

“Yup… it does…save water.” you agree, pushing yourself into her, your noses brushing as she wraps her arms around your waist. You can feel her shaky breath against your face. Her arm tightens, shaky, but still pulling you closer.

Her lips taste like vodka and buttery syrup.

Your mouths move perfectly in unison, lips fitting together like the final piece of a puzzle - everything finally coming together after one single act, a thousand unsaid words discarded as you yield to the temptation that is Ellie's touch.

Her hands were firm, her body magnetic as you grind against each other. Ellie's arms elope you, she fears for what was to come if she let go. The doorframe next to you leads the dim bathroom light in, painting her pale skin golden.

Small whimpers leave your mouth, Ellie's groans surfacing from the light ‘mms’ that leave your mouth. You both know you aren’t going to be able to hold out for any longer.

“Ellie..” your voice is softer than before, higher pitched and airy, and your hands reach to pull her back into your mouth, “Bathroom?” she asks breathily.

And you don’t think, just nod feverishly at the offer, quickly locking your hand with hers. Leaving the cold room behind, in search of the warm solace of the shower and Ellie's body pressed against your own.

The door locks with a click and before you know it, her lips are on yours again. You giggle into the kiss, because if you were honest, this was everything you’ve needed lately.

“I want you to use me,” she begins, her chapped lips reclaiming their place, moving down to your neck. You’re quick to question her rather vulgar language.

“What, use you?” your hands roam: slipping underneath her t-shirt, and rubbing up and down her back. She slowly moves to unbutton your blouse, finger nimble as she fumbles with your buttons.

“Fuck - yes, please. I wanna make it better. Wanna make it up to you." A chill ran up your spine at her words, guilt panging just below her fingertips.

“Ellie, I forgave you so long ago. You—” her whimpers interrupt your word, she slips your blouse off of your body like she was just being welcomed into heaven, then gropes your tits through your bra, “Please, I need this, too.” She slowly reaches behind you to unclip your bra, the sudden relief making you moan into the air.

Time seems to move in slow motion as Ellie continues to remove your layers, peeling you back until you're stripped bare. You hadn’t done this in a long time and feared it was prominent. Eventually, Ellie moved to turn the shower on, the soft aroma of humidity relaxing tense shoulders.

As Ellie begins to strip off her clothing, you slowly step into the steaming shower. The room was so hot — Ellie was so hot — you couldn't think.

Your heart races as she follows you in, the bathroom was already cramped — but with two people in the tiniest shower to ever exist, not touching wasn't an option. Intimacy was inevitable, the temptation to run your fingers over her bare skin surging through your veins.

Ellies body was a time capsule; tattered, with scars dating back to before you even met her, and hidden freckles you’d never seen before. You slowly reach out to her, using a single finger to trace the marks on her collarbones. You slightly frown, unbeknownst to the stories behind them.

Your one finger turns into a palm as you continue to undress her, even if she was already naked. You drink in her arms, the tattoos catching your eye quickly. Some old, some new. All well fitting, all screaming her.

“I like this one.” you whisper, tracing over the ink. The tattoo was simple, a medium-sized dragonfly on her shoulder. It was one you hadn't seen before, something she must've gotten after you parted ways.

“Does it have a meaning?” curious eyes move from her arm to her eyes. She swallows. At this point, Ellie is staring you down, sopping hair sticking to her neck.

“Yeah, uh - it means like, overcoming harship.. so, like.. resistance, i guess.” she shrugs, awkwardly bringing her own hand to the tattoo, before deciding to grab yours. She removes your hand from her skin and steps forward.

“I like that on you.” you smile up at her.

“Thanks, I got it a few years ago.” she wraps both arms around your waist, dripping skin sticking to your own easily. She slowly leans in again, pressing a kiss in front of your ear. You close your eyes as ellies lips make their way to your neck. You tilt your head up, allowing her to take your skin into her mouth.

“mmm..” you hum softly. Ellie pulls you closer, her teeth lightly grazing the skin that was already in her mouth. You move a hand up to her wet hair, tucking the loose waves behind her ear. She slowly kisses her way down your jaw, warm water pouring down onto both of you, making you feel like you're in a rom-com. Her hands stay on your waist as her lips finally press back against your own.

Ellie's touch makes your head spin — you could get drunk on her lips alone. The steaming water causes the room to heat up, condensation dripping from every corner. Her lips move against you passionately, her tongue slowly slipping into your mouth to work against yours. You pull her closer, arms tightening around her neck.

Ellie moans into your mouth, fingers that were once rubbing circles on your hip, now relocated to your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where you truly desired them. She slowly backs you into the bathroom wall, lips never leaving your own.

“Ellie..” you whimper against her skin, her slender fingers grazing your clit so delicately that you almost missed it.

“What do you need, baby?” she breaks the kiss now, both hands coming up to cup your face, pulling you impossibly close.

“I need your mouth, fingers, something, please..” your head drapes against the cold shower wall, the slight breeze hitting you from in between the curtain and the wall only amplifying your arousal. Ellie's forehead gently kisses yours, her freckled skin blushing from the scorching water. She nods against you, and is quick to move her lips back to your neck. She's ready to give you all of her, and take everything you give her.

Ellie kisses you slowly, like she's trying to prove something. She was persistent for forgiveness, forgiveness that you had given her years ago.

Eventually, she drops to her knees, green puppy eyes staring up at you with pure, raw need. She needed this more than she needed air, she needed this even more than you did.

“Fuck, Baby.” she groans into your skin, pressing soft, saccharine kisses to your stomach, right above where you needed her. You buck softly into her, your clit aching for her touch.

A small kiss to your inner thigh, another pressed onto your soft clit, and your leg is over ellies shoulder — her mouth moving desperately against your cunt. Her tongue dips in and out of your folds quickly, before she moves her attention back to your clit. She sucks your bud into her mouth kindly, her eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as she greedily gets off on your pleasure.

“Ellie! Oh my god—” you moan as her tongue works wonders on you, squeezing your eyes shut as your pleasure intensifies. It clicks to Ellie once your legs start tightening around her head.

Ellie doesnt slow. In fact, she grabs both of your thighs, pushing them apart to widen them. Delving deeper into you. Her tongue speeds up on your already sopping sex, twirling circles around your clit, then moving down to your prodding hole, and repeating.

“Oh! Fuckfuckfuck! I’m gonna come, Ellie!” you warn, grabbing a chunk of her wet locks into your hands. Your legs shake uncontrollably, threatening to close in on her head, but she restrains you tightly. Your moans are loud, luckily muffled by the shower and the bathroom fan.

You arch wildly, your body on fire. Your feet clench into nothing, your hands ripping through Ellie's hair. You moan her name loudly as you cum, making her slow her movements but not stop. Eager to taste the milky heaven that came out of you.

“Ellie! It's too much!” your whimpers only make her giggle against you, slowly easing a finger to collect your wetness. She stands up slowly, her hands quickly moving to your waist in order to keep you from falling.

“Sorry, baby. You just taste so good.” she admits with a smirk, pulling you in for another soft kiss. Your perky nipples press against one another, your lips dancing together to say all the things that your words never could.

“Turn around.” she whispers. A shiver makes its way down your spine at her sultry tone. You comply with her orders, turning your back towards her — your chest now directly in the stream of the shower. Ellie doesn't touch you, instead she reaches over to the rack of soaps and grabs — by coincidence — your favourite soap. She squirts a helpful amount into her hands.

She begins to lather the soap all around your back, cleaning you with precision. After some time, you feel her grab a folded cloth from in the rack, slowly using it to help cleanse you. Her hands gently scrub your body down. heavy breaths fill your ears, and you could tell that she was fighting off the urge to touch you again.

“Turn,” she asks softly, her tone sounding like more of a question than an order. You listen, turning to your back that was now rinsing in the water, while Ellie had access to your chest and front. She slowly began working the soapy cloth into your front. Starting at your collarbones, and slowly making her way down to your stomach.

She gently caresses your tits with the cloth, smiling down at your sudsy nipples like a teenage boy with his first girlfriend. Your heart pangs at her smile, a feeling of admiration washing over you. It was different from the admiration you felt when you saw your kids, different from whatever you felt for your ex-husband.

No, this was love.

Ellie dives in for one final kiss before she moves your body into the water to rinse you off, moving your hair from your neck and pressing a firm smooch against the nape of it.

“Let’s get you tucked in, yeah?” she whispers into your skin.

you let the water run down your body for a few more moments before Ellie takes your hand into her own, intertwining your fingers as she leads you out of the shower.

“What about you?” your voice comes out lighter than before, almost breathy. Ellie shakes her head, and wraps a towel around your now frigid frame.

"Don't worry about me, m’kay?” she smiles at you again, softer this time. She leans over to turn the water off, body still reddened from the hot water.

You sigh, knowing she wouldn’t let you argue further. Your wet hair rests against your face. You giggle at your appearance when you walk past the mirror — naked, wet, and wrapped in a towel with mascara running down your cheeks. Ellie stood behind you, looking at you like you hung the moon.

Your bedroom is dark, the only light source being a small lamp on your bedside table. You sit down on the already made bed as Ellie begins to rummage through your wooden dresser, the gentle oak scraping against itself being the only noise to fill the room.

“Where’s your pajamas?” she questions, opening and closing drawers swiftly.

“Middle drawer— no, yeah, right there.” you giggle as Ellie openly misses the drawer where your pj’s actually reside.

“Okay, got it. Anything in particular in mind?” she”s rummaging through the drawer of silky pj sets when she lays eyes on the.. skimpier pieces that stay in the bottom of the drawer. Her stomach drops, the thought of you wearing that for someone else making her sick, to say the least.

She shakes the thought, knowing you probably haven’t worn them for anyone since your husband — or at least that's what she tells herself.

She quickly grabs a random pair of emerald green silk pajamas and brings them to you. You thank her and quickly strip off your towel, stepping into the freshly picked pair of pants, and Ellie guides your shirt over your head.

At this point Ellie was still naked in your bedroom, you laugh lowly of this and guide her to the closet,

“Are you okay with wearing some of his clothes?” you flinch after you ask the question, realizing how bad it probably sounded to outside ears.

Ellie laughs, eyes drifting to the ground as she nods. “Yeah, that’s - that’s fine.” you chuckle awkwardly, passing her a black T-Shirt and a pair of plaid grandpa pants.

She nods and changes into the clothes swiftly. You're both now standing there, awkwardly idly. you're staring at the ground, and Ellie's twiddling with her fingers. You take a deep breath before looking up at her, and she feels your gaze on her.

Ellie’s unsure. She’s always been unsure when it came to you.

She was unsure when she met you, she was unsure when she lost you, and she was unsure before dialing your number tonight. And now? she’s unsure if she should even look you in the eye, because she doesn't know what she would do.

She's almost positive that if she looks at you one more time, it's gonna end with you naked underneath her.

“Ellie…” you breathe, taking a single step towards her with your hands out. You can see the gears grinding in her head, second guessing her next move. Her eyes move from the ground to your face, and she calls out your name in the same lustful, husky tone as you did.

There’s a beat.

You take a step forward again.

“Fuck it.” Ellie groans, before she throws herself in to you, taking your mouth into hers and wrapping her arms around your waist. ellie’s lips taste different this time, rather than alcohol and years of pining, you taste yourself. you moan into her mouth, she quickly backs you into the bed, your knees hit the edge of the mattress causing you to fall backwards. ellie quickly climbs on top of you, slitting a single knee between your thighs.

ellie whimpers into your mouth. she slips one hand up and down your torso, the other one holding her up above you. her wet hair tickles your skin as your lips work with each other. you can feel your wetness soaking through your thin pants, ellie’s clothed knee pressing against your clit.

“Ellie,” you moan into her mouth, grinding your hips up into her knee. ellie separates her lips from yours, she looks into your eyes, her gaze agonizing. she tucks a stray piece of damp hair behind your ear, “What do you need, baby. tell me.” the nickname makes your head spin, that mixed with her knee slowly grinding against you had you on the verge of cumming already.

“I need you, Please.” you practically beg, ellie’s cheeks heat up, beautiful freckled face covered with a light pink hugh. if you weren’t so focused on getting in her pants, you would probably be showering her with kisses right now.

ellie nods, she quickly stands up to slip her shirt off, you slowly crawl up to the top of the bed, stripping of your top before laying down on the pillows. ellie crawls over to you, caging your face between her hands. she leans down and presses another small kiss to your lips before trailing hers down your body.

her mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking on your erect bud whilst the other hand plays with your other boob. you slip a shaky hand into her hair, and use your other to slide out of your practically soaked pants, desperation overtaking temptation.

ellie’s mouth leaves your chest, she assists you out of your bottoms while you quickly lift your hips to get them off of your hips. you then motion towards her own pants, slipping your thumbs into the waistband to hint at your need for her skin. ellie understands what you need immediately, standing from the bed once again. she strips of her, or his pants, leaving her bare, dripping cunt exposed to you.

ellie makes her back onto the bed, this time she was kneeling at the edge. she grabs you by your ankles and gently pulls you closer to her. you laugh at this, and prop yourself up on her arms. “What’re you plannin’ El?” you tease, rubbing a foot up and down her chest, lip between your teeth.

ellie’s eyes widen, she grabs your ankles, and situates herself between your thighs, you moan at the sudden contact, ellie’s wetness against your own causes her to groan loudly. your ankles still fill up her hands, she brings her mouth down and presses an immoral kiss to your ankle, her eyes staying locked on yours as she does this. she grinds against you slowly.

you grab at her skin, eager to have her as close as possible. ellie presses one more kiss to your ankle before grinding into you harder. she drops your ankles and brings herself closer to you. her chest dangling right over your mouth.

you takes one of her small mounds into your mouth, sucking and pinching at it with your teeth, ellie’s face contorts into that of a pornstar. “Oh fuck..” she whimpers into the air. her tone whiny and light, much more high pitched than her regular voice. this was music to your ears. so, you bucked your hips up into her already grinding cunt.

Ellies eyes begin to well up with tears, the pleasure mixed with the poignant reminder of her past creating a rather unique feeling. you notice this immediately, releasing her tit from your mouth and grabbing her face, bringing her in for a tender kiss. you continue to move together, the overwhelming pleasure of it all bringing you to the edge.

ellie whimpers, “I’m so sorry..” her voice cracks against you, you shake your head and mutter into the kiss. “It’s okay, you're okay.” your expressions matched up perfectly, eyebrows furrowed and lips unable to link together due to your gasps of satisfaction.

ellie moans into you, “M gonna come,” her voice is loud and clear. you can feel her movements start to twitch after her orgasm. you finish shortly after, with ellie’s tears resting on your cheeks and her heavy heart against your own.

ellie’s body drops beside you, you rush to cover her with the blanket, shifting yourself underneath the duvet as well. you don't say a word as you swiftly maneuver to turn out the light beside you.

soon, you are both swallowed by darkness. your eyes focused on the ceiling but in the moment you could feel ellie’s piercing gaze, burning holes into the side of your head. you turn to her when you hear the sheets muffling, her freckled back now facing your front. you bring a single finger up to trace the ones you could see.

ellie’s throat is tight, her eyes are wet and shes trying so hard not to cry. the only thought occupying her mind being you, the way you laugh, the way you moaned, and the way she hurt you. ellie sucks in a harsh breath, her mind then shifts to your husband, your kids, your life. she was stupid to think that she could come in a drunken mess and you would accept her with open arms. she wonders how you feel about him, about her.

ellie bites the bullet.

“Do you love him?” she whispers into the dark. there’s a moment of tension before you answer.

“I did, but not how i love you.”

your confession stuns ellie, her muscles tightening the moment the last word left your mouth. she slowly turns around, her eyes locking with yours. the close proximity forces you to feel ellie’s breath, you shift again, this time laying on top of ellie, skin soaking up her own.

“I love you.” she whispers into your hair, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. a feeling of relief washes over her.

“i know.” you whisper, taking one last look at her before you close your eyes for the final time that night.

@andieprincessofpower @loserabby @mastermasterlist1p1 @blxeberryblood @firefly-ace @doodl3b3ans @modernvenuss @remusandlunakinnie @justagirlexisting @softqirls @bambi-luvs @r3starttt @jujuszn @fempr1ncesss @sunflowerwinds

[vahnilla]

thinking about perv!ellie who’s high out of her mind and helplessly humping your pillow. her hips curl up clit catching on the fabric perfectly with each grind. the moans spill from her lips like honey, tainting the air with her lewd words. “you feel so good, b-baby. i need you, need you, need you.” she rambles, repeating the words until they turn into mush and fade into a moan.

the only thing on her mind is you. she’s imagining you putting her in positions that aren’t even humanly possible. fucking her so raw and deep, she’ll still feel it days later. she wants to be used by you, wants to be your personal toy when you need that relief. just the thought of it has her hips stuttering, juices spilling out and soaking the satin material below.

as she crashes over the pillow, spine curling like a shrimp. the scent of you hits her nose, and it’s enough to send another wave of arousal through her. shit, she didn’t even think this was an option; inhaling your scent while humping your pillow. the slow grind of her hips starts back up. slow, pathetic drags across the fabric that causes sinful whines to pour out.

she was going to regret this. the clean up and explanation for jumbled up sheets were soon to come, but it was the last thing on her mind. because right now she needs this. she needs to picture humping you until she’s wrung dry.