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all4simone · 2 days ago

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──𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑;

(established!sevika x reader): you finally figure out what's been bothering your girlfriend and make all her dreams come true.

wc: 5.8k | cw: sub top!sevika, fingering, face-sitting, oral sex, voyeurism, strap-ons, praise kink, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, overstim, MINORS DNI.

note: just a little treat before i go out of town this weekend! i hope you enjoy :3

It is unlike Sevika to be nervous.

Correction: it's unlike Sevika to be nervous in a way that shows. She's a woman who keeps her cards close, who moves through the world like someone who has already calculated every possible outcome. A bit neurotic, all things considered.

But something's shifted lately, and you’ve started noticing the small things: the way she jumps a little when you speak suddenly, like she's been too far in her own head to hear you coming. The distant look in her eyes when she thinks you’re not watching, not pensive exactly but preoccupied, like there's a thought she keeps chewing on but hasn’t dared to spit out.

She still reaches for you, still holds your waist when you pass by and pulls you in for slow kisses on the couch, but there’s a tension behind it now, like she’s waiting for something. Bracing for it.

And then there’s the issue of your sex life. Or more accurately, the slow but undeniable decline of it.

In the beginning, Sevika couldn’t keep her hands off you. You’d barely make it through dinner without her getting that look in her eye, and next thing you knew, you were being hauled into the bedroom or pinned to the kitchen counter with barely enough time to gasp her name.

The sex had been ravenous, like she needed you to survive, like fucking you was the only way she knew how to breathe. And for a while, you thought that was just her baseline. That maybe she’d finally found someone who made her let go of whatever leash she kept on herself.

But now? You’re lucky to get a bit of half-hearted groping during your nightly wind-down, maybe something more if the stars align and she’s not distracted or tired or haunted by whatever's been eating at her. You try not to take it personally. Really, you do.

The easiest, most humiliating conclusion would be that she's just not that into you anymore. That maybe the shine wore off and she’s already got one foot out the door, even if she hasn’t said it out loud. But that theory doesn’t hold water when she still looks at you the way she always did—like you hung the damn moon.

She still cooks for you. Still listens when you ramble. Still runs her hand down your back when you’re falling asleep and tucks the blanket under your chin when she thinks you’re not awake to notice. She's still your Sevika. And so, you chalk it up to the relationship settling. No one stays in that honeymoon heat forever. You try to convince yourself that it’s not a problem. That not having sex every day isn’t a failing. That it doesn’t mean something’s broken.

And when you do have sex, it’s still good—god, it’s incredible—but there’s something in her that holds back now, something you haven’t been able to name, and you’ve been too scared to press for it.

So, you let it lie. You tell yourself that whatever it is, she’ll work it out. That if it’s important, she’ll come to you.

But it's Sevika, and you were always going to have to find out the hard way.

It’s a normal day when it happens. You’d made plans to grab lunch with a few friends and maybe catch a movie afterward if the timing worked out. Nothing special. Sevika had kissed your forehead as you got ready, told you to use her card to treat yourself—something she always insists on when you go out—and murmured for you to have a good time.

Lunch was a joy. There was something soothing about the low hum of conversation and the clatter of silverware, about the laughter echoing off the restaurant walls as you caught up with people you hadn’t seen in weeks. It wasn’t until you stepped outside that the three of you realized it was raining, and the plans begin to dissolve. The movie was quickly nixed in favor of warm homes and dry clothes, and you found yourself making the familiar drive back in the kind of light drizzle that turns roads slick and hypnotic.

Sevika texted while you were still en route. Just a simple raining. be safe. You didn’t respond right away—being a safe driver and all that jazz—but the quiet comfort of knowing she was thinking about you settled warm in your chest.

When you push through the door, Sevika isn't waiting for you like she normally is. She's not in her usual spot on the couch nor the kitchen; for a second you entertain the idea that maybe she's just gone out. Then, you hear muffled noise from your bedroom.

The closer you get, the more clarity you get. Ragged little gasps and choked-off whines, the wet slap of skin against skin in rhythm. You freeze for a moment because you're certain it must be Sevika, but you've never heard her sound like that in your life.

A part of you panics, for one blinding second. That sharp, sour bite of suspicion creeps in without warning. The kind that stems from some buried, ugly place inside you. The whisper that maybe she’s not alone in there.

But the thought fizzles as fast as it forms, burning out in the face of what you know about her, about the woman waiting on the other side of the door. And then, when you reach out and ease it open just a crack, just enough to look inside—you see her.

Alone. On the bed.

She’s splayed out across the sheets on her back. Her shirt is rucked up high on her ribs, revealing the slope of her stomach and the way her chest rises and falls in ragged, uneven gasps. Her sweatpants are halfway off, bunched awkwardly around one knee, and her legs are spread wide in a graceless sprawl. One arm is curled up, pressing something to her face, and when you squint, you recognize it. A flash of familiar color. A torn bit of lace. Your underwear—yesterday’s—held tightly to her nose in a truly shameless display.

You barely breathe. Can’t.

Her other hand is between her legs, fingers moving in a slick, relentless rhythm. She’s not playing. She’s fucking herself. Three fingers deep, fucking into herself with the kind of hunger you’ve never seen her give to herself. The kind of force she usually reserves for you. The kind that has her back arching and her thighs shaking and her heels digging into the mattress for leverage as her hips jerk to meet every thrust. She's wrecked. Her face is twisted with something halfway between ecstasy and frustration, brows furrowed so deeply it almost looks like she’s in pain. Her jaw trembles with every breath.

You should look away. You know that. But you're stuck there, shameless in the doorway, drinking her in with greedy, disbelieving eyes. Every part of her is trembling with effort, her breath coming in short, stuttering gasps.

Her hand is slick—dripping—and every time her fingers slide out, you can see the mess she’s making of herself. It’s obscene. And this is the same Sevika, who once told you she didn’t want the favor returned, that getting you off was enough. Sevika, who always made you come first, who always had that wolfish grin and strong hands and took what she wanted like she knew she deserved it.

But this isn’t that Sevika.

This is something else. This is need laid bare. Desperation, raw and unhidden, as if she’s cracked herself open on purpose and is holding the pieces out for someone to see. For you to see. And god, you see her. You see her so clearly you can hardly think around it.

And then, she speaks.

“Please,” she whimpers, barely more than a breath. “I’ll be good.”

The words slice right through you, clean and brutal. Your body reacts before your mind catches up, a jolt of heat racing straight down your spine. I’ll be good. Her hand slows for a second, stuttering mid-thrust like the sound of her own voice has startled her, and then she drives her fingers deeper, rougher, chasing the edge again like she can’t stand being without it. Like she's punishing herself for daring to ask.

“Let me come, please,” she moans, her voice breaking around the edges. “Tell me I’m good.”

There’s no one else in the room. No one for her to be putting this performance on for. Just her, trembling on her back, begging to be seen, to be allowed. Her face is flushed, her mouth slack, eyes squeezed shut like she can’t bear to look at herself this way. Like the shame is part of the pleasure. And all the while she keeps moving, fingers plunging in and out of herself with rhythmic urgency, the wet sound of it a low, relentless underscore to her pleas.

Tell me I’m good.

She says it like she’s starving for it. Like the words themselves might unravel her in just the right way. She wants you to say it. She needs you to say it because she doesn’t believe it unless it comes from you.

And then she says your name.

Once. Then again. And again. She chants it like a lifeline, like prayer turned desperate. She’s crying it now, wrecked and hoarse and slipping toward the edge with every syllable, like saying your name might summon you, might give her permission to let go.

Through the arousal clouding your thoughts and the flush of voyeuristic heat across your skin, it dawns on you with startling clarity: this is what’s been eating at her. This is the thing Sevika has been hiding, the thing she’s never given you, maybe never given anyone. And you know it’s not just the act. It’s what it means to her. What it costs her to want this, to need it.

And God, you want to give it to her.

You want to cross that threshold and press your body to hers, kiss her until she softens and give her exactly what she's begging for. You want to tell her there's nothing—nothing—she ever needs to hide from you. That she could give you every raw, tender, humiliated part of herself and you'd hold it with both hands.

But you know Sevika. You know how easily she spooks when she feels exposed, how quickly she’ll lock herself up tighter than a vault the second she thinks someone’s seen too much. If you walk in there now with eyes full of knowing and hands full of comfort, she’ll shut down. You’ll lose her. She’ll bolt behind her usual defenses, pretend it never happened, maybe even avoid you for days out of some twisted sense of shame.

She doesn’t do confrontation. She bulldozes through it, clumsy and bristling.

So you don’t call out to her. You don’t step inside and ask her why she didn’t tell you. You don’t throw open the door and offer her safety. You choose a tactful retreat for now.

You back away from the bedroom like a thief with a priceless secret, gently easing the door shut behind you as though you were never there at all. Then, on silent feet, you tiptoe to the front entrance, crack it open just enough to set the stage.

You wait a beat—long enough to let her think the noise is genuine—before slamming it shut, hard enough to echo through the apartment. The keys jingle as you toss them into the ceramic bowl by the door. You clear your throat. You even throw in a practiced sigh for good measure.

“Sev! I’m home,” you call, keeping your voice smooth, casual, just slightly above normal.

A few heartbeats pass before you hear her bare feet padding softly across the hardwood, the rustle of clothing, a door easing shut somewhere behind her. And then she’s there, walking down the hallway like nothing's amiss. Her hair’s a little mussed, but her smile is easy, practiced. “Welcome back, baby. How was your movie?”

You wonder how often she’s done this. How many times she’s waited until she was sure you were gone, then slipped into your shared bed with shaking fingers and bitten-back moans and your scent pressed to her face.

It makes your chest ache, but you keep it hidden behind a smile. You give her the line you’ve already rehearsed. “We decided to reschedule because of the rain. Lunch was good, though. We should go together sometime.”

“Sounds good,” she murmurs, and leans down to kiss you. Soft and warm and familiar; you return the kiss and it takes everything in power not to tackle her to the couch and have your filthy way with her. You manage, barely.

That night, you don’t push. You don’t say a word about what you saw, won't until you're sure of what exactly it is you plan to say.

You settle into the rhythm she knows best. The two of you curl up in bed (you note that she changed the sheets while you showered), limbs tangled and breath syncing in that quiet way you’ve always loved. She falls asleep with her arm around your waist, her head pressed into your shoulder. And you lie awake for a while, watching the rise and fall of her chest, letting everything settle.

Over the next few days, you start testing the waters.

You start taking a little more initiative in bed. Nothing extreme. Just a firmer grip on her hips when you pull her in, a hand to her throat—not squeezing, just holding. You tell her she’s beautiful when she gets a little vocal. You guide her mouth between your thighs and gently hold her there until you’re done, showering her in as much praise as you can choke out.

It all comes to a head a few nights later.

Sevika’s cooked for you. Something rich and hearty with roasted vegetables and crusty bread, the apartment filled with the warm smell of garlic and thyme. She’s wearing a black tank top and dark jeans, and her hair's freshly washed. There's a part of you that wants to forgo the entire meal in favor of just having her, but you know she's worked hard.

The two of you sit across from each other at the table, each with your own glass of wine. She’s leaning back in her chair, legs spread, eyes lazy as she watches you chew. You can see how proud she is of the meal, even if she won’t say it outright. She always likes feeding you.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you murmur, setting your fork down and reaching for your wine. “Seriously, this is amazing.”

She grunts, but her mouth quirks up. “Glad you like it.”

You swirl your glass, watching the wine catch the candlelight. Then you glance up. “Can I ask you something?”

She tenses. It’s so slight most people wouldn’t catch it. But you know her. You’ve learned how to read the micro-expressions, the shifts in her breathing.

“Sure,” she says, guarded.

You speak plainly, knowing that any hint of pity or hesitation would only serve to agitate her. “The other day. When I got home early, I was actually back a little earlier than I lead you to believe.”

Her expression freezes.

You keep your voice soft. “You were, uh, busy…in the bedroom.”

Her jaw ticks. She sets her glass down with a quiet clink. “You saw that?”

You nod.

Her eyes flick away. She shifts back, a muscle in her cheek twitching. “You gonna give me shit for it?”

And that breaks your heart a little. The idea that someone made her feel like that's anything to be ashamed, the fact that she expects it even from you.

“No,” you say, and the word is so fierce, so immediate, that her eyes flick back to you. You take a breath, steady your voice. “I wouldn't bring it up to make fun of you, Sev.”

She’s still watching you like she’s waiting for the trap to spring.

You lean forward slightly. “You know you don't have to be embarrassed, right?”

There’s a long pause.

And then she says, quietly, “I'm not embarrassed, baby.” Her mouth twists, like she’s trying to get the words right. “People take one look at me and they've got a whole lotta expectations. Stuff they think I am, stuff they want me to be. They find out I'm not really the domineering type and they're usually not happy about it. And you seem to like it when I'm in charge.”

She shrugs, but the movement is stiff. “Didn't wanna disappoint you, is all.”

You feel something hot burn behind your ribs. A kind of quiet fury. That anyone had the chance to be on the receiving end of Sevika’s surrender—to watch a woman that powerful offer herself up—and treated it like anything short of a god-given gift.

You shake your head, stunned. “Jesus, Sev. That’s…” You search for the words. “You didn't disappoint me. I gotta be honest, babe, that was, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

She snorts, amusement breaking through the tense air. “That why you brought it up? Just to let me know it's okay?”

You meet her eyes, your own lips pulling into a little grin. “Would you want that with me? To submit like that?”

“Yes.”

You nod slowly, heart pounding.

You finish the last sip of your wine. Set the glass aside. Then you rise to your feet, smooth your hands down your thighs, and hold her gaze.

“Good,” you say, voice low and certain. “C'mon.”

Sevika doesn’t ask where. She doesn’t hesitate.

She stands without a word, places her empty glass on the table, and follows you with her hands tucked in her pockets.

Inside the bedroom, you stop near the foot of the bed and turn to her.

“Sit,” you say gently.

She obeys without question, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, legs parting just slightly as she settles. You step between them, resting your hands on her shoulders, watching how she instinctively reaches out. Her big palms slide immediately to your waist like they belong there. And when she looks up at you, something in your chest clenches. She looks so open like this. Unguarded. A quiet, private kind of softness that few people probably ever get to see.

She’s beautiful like this. Cute, even. Which should feel wrong, coming from someone so broad and blunt and vulgar, but somehow it doesn’t. It just makes you want to cup her jaw and hold her face in your hands and make her feel adored.

Your fingers move before your mind catches up, threading through the strands of her hair—slow and gentle, dragging along her scalp in a way that makes her eyelids flutter.

“Gonna tell me how you want this, Sev?” you ask, voice low but not demanding. An invitation.

She smiles, something shy tucked behind it, and it’s the freest you’ve seen her in days. Like letting the truth out at dinner shook something loose inside her. She takes her time, chewing on the inside of her cheek, clearly turning over her thoughts before she speaks.

“I like it when you tell me what to do,” she says slowly. “When you tell me I’m good.”

A pause.

“You can be mean, too,” she adds, voice a little rougher, like it costs her something to say. “I need it to behave, sometimes. I like being kept in line by a pretty thing like yourself.”

The words hit you like a pulse beneath your skin. Not just the meaning of them, but the vulnerability it takes to say them aloud. To admit that she wants control taken from her. That she craves not just praise, but discipline.

Your fingers are still buried in her hair, stroking. Calmer than you feel. “I can do that for you,” you murmur, leaning down to press your lips to hers. It’s not a heated kiss. Not yet. Just a promise, warm and sure.

You pull back just enough to meet her gaze. “Anything off the table?”

She tilts her head, amused, and that familiar smirk curls at the edge of her mouth. “Oh? Got something really fucked up you wanna do to me?”

You roll your eyes and swat her shoulder lightly. “No. I just don’t want you uncomfortable.”

She leans in again, slower this time, and brushes her lips along yours like she’s savoring it. “I trust you, baby,” she says softly. Her voice is close, and her eyes are steady. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. Swear.”

You nod once, fingers tightening gently in her hair. “Good girl,” you murmur.

And the way she exhales, shaky and wrecked and already half-gone, tells you she’s yours.

“Take your clothes off,” you say, calm and clear.

Sevika blinks, then nods once, and rises to her feet. There’s no sarcasm in her smile now, no teasing in her movements. Just a quiet obedience as she sheds each piece, folding them roughly and dropping them onto the chair in the corner without ceremony. You drink in every inch of skin she reveals—broad shoulders, that scarred chest, the solid strength she carries in every line of her body—and it hits you again, how rare this must be for her. To bare herself like this. To offer herself.

When she’s fully nude, you nod toward the bed. “Up.”

She crawls backward onto the mattress, then scoots up until she’s resting against the pillows, legs slightly parted, gaze fixed on you.

You don’t undress. Not yet. Instead, you crawl up after her, settle into her lap with a shift of your hips. Her hands twitch on the comforter—like she wants to touch, to grab, to drag you in by the hips—but she doesn’t. She holds still. Her eyes dip to your mouth, and when she swallows, it’s audible.

“Who knew you could be so well behaved?” You murmur, palms smoothing up her shoulders as you lean in.

You kiss her before she can respond. It’s slow at first, but the second she starts to lean into it, you pull back, just enough to shift your focus lower. Your lips trail from the corner of her mouth to her below her ear, then lower still to her jaw. Then, to her throat. You bite, gentle at first, then harder, drawing a sound out of her that goes straight to your core.

Your mouth continues downward, to the side of her neck, where you suck a little harder. She shifts beneath you, hips twitching, and your hand finds her side, thumb dragging across her ribs in slow strokes.

You leave another mark. Then another. A messy little constellation along the side of her throat, scattered proof that she’s yours.

And she lets you. Chest rising faster now. Breath heavier.

Your hands slip down her torso, brushing the soft skin beneath her breasts before rising again, more purposeful this time. You cup them, thumbs brushing her nipples, and her back arches just slightly into your touch. An unconscious response, so telling.

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, head tipping back against the pillows.

You smile, wicked and fond, and lean down to replace one of your hands with your mouth. You drag your tongue slowly over the stiff peak, then close your lips around it, sucking just enough to make her gasp. Your free hand tweaks the other, enjoying the way her whole body reacts: shoulders tightening, thighs shifting beneath you.

The little sound she makes—soft and needy, half-bitten off—is almost too much. You grind down without thinking, chasing a little friction, trying to soothe the ache building between your legs.

Her eyes snap to yours.

But she still doesn’t move. Her hands stay clenched in the sheets. And you know she wants to touch you. You can see it in the way her fingers curl, the way her knuckles go white. But she doesn’t. Because you haven’t told her she can.

You press your mouth to her chest again, more greedy this time, your hips rolling just a little against her lap as you murmur against her skin, “I like these new noises you're making. You don't have to hold back.”

"'Kay," she says, voice stretched thin.

You kiss a slow, teasing line down her stomach, savoring the way she trembles with every inch you travel lower. Her thighs part for you like second nature, wide and inviting, and you settle between them with reverence. Your hands settle on her hips, breath ghosting over her cunt.

You glance up.

Sevika’s watching you. Her chest is rising and falling like she’s already halfway gone, and you commit the sight to your memory. You duck your head and lick one slow, deliberate stripe through her folds, and the sound she makes—fuck. It’s guttural, pulled from somewhere deep. Her hips jerk despite herself.

You take your time. Parting those puffy lips with your tongue and drinking in the taste of her. And when your tongue finds her clit, you pause.

She’s so sensitive. You feel it in the way she twitches, how her thighs flex on either side of your head. And she’s big here, swollen and flushed, easy to wrap your lips around. So you do. Gently. Eagerly.

The reaction is immediate. She lets out a sound you’ve never heard from her before—high, needy, almost whimpering. Her hips roll without rhythm, trying to chase more friction, and you press your palms harder to her thighs to hold her still.

“Shit. Baby,” she gasps, voice already fraying at the edges. “I—fuck, you can’t just—”

But you can, and you do. You suck slow, then fast, then slow again. Teasing, tasting, keeping her just off balance enough that she doesn’t know whether to cry or come. She starts to babble, to beg. She’s never begged you like this before. Every word stumbles out half-formed, punctuated by desperate moans and broken gasps.

“Please. Please don’t stop, just—fuck, right there.”

You hum against her clit, letting the vibration do the rest. Her whole body tenses. You feel it building in her thighs, in her stomach, the way she tries to close her legs but can’t. Not with you holding her open like this, tongue relentless, lips locked around the part of her that seems to reduce her to a mess beneath your expertise.

And just as she tips over the edge—shuddering, breath hitching—her hand suddenly comes down, fingers curling tight against the back of your head.

You freeze.

Then, slowly, you lift your face from between her legs, mouth slick, lips kiss-swollen.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me,” you say softly.

It takes a second for it to land. Her eyes are glazed, chest heaving, lips parted around a word she’s forgotten how to finish. But you see the flicker of realization in her expression—the way she blinks, processing. The way her hand drops from your hair like it’s been burned.

You don’t scold her. You don’t say another word.

You just rise to your feet, eyes never leaving hers, and step off the bed in search of something. Sevika lays there stunned, bliss-drunk, and suddenly very alert to what might come next.

You return with a familiar object in hand, something you forgot you even owned until just now—cheap, pink, and fuzzy, dangling from one finger like a taunt. You watch as Sevika’s eyes narrow.

“Seriously?” she scoffs, half-laughing, half-wary. “I'm under arrest now?”

You smile, all mock sympathy and wicked delight. “You broke the rules, baby. I’m just helping you behave.”

Sevika opens her mouth to argue: It was an accident. I barely touched you. But you just raise a brow, silencing her with the glint in your eye. She hesitates, then leans back against the pillows with a groan, stretching her arms above her head. A reluctant offering.

You cuff her wrists to the headboard.

They’re not tight. Not serious especially considering she can easily break them if she wants to. But the effect is instant: her whole body shudders at the shift in power. She’s at your mercy now, and she likes it.

Your clothes are quickly discarded atop Sevika's with considerably less order. You crawl up the bed and straddle her chest, not quite sitting yet. “Maybe if you’re good,” you murmur, trailing your fingers along the edge of her jaw, “I’ll let you fuck me later.”

That gets her attention. Her eyes darken, her tongue flicks across her lips, and she nods like she’s already planning her redemption arc.

But that’s not what this moment’s for.

You shift higher, settling over her face, bracing one hand against the headboard as the other guides her mouth exactly where you want it. “Open up,” you purr, and she obeys immediately—eager, hungry, already moaning before her tongue even touches you.

She wastes no time closing her mouth around you, tongue flicking out in the way she knows you go crazy for. Sevika always eats your pussy like she'll die without it. Her eyes flutter shut as she sets a steady pace, dragging her tongue through your slick and pushing her face as close as she can get it.

You grind down harder, throwing your head back with a drawn out moan.

She groans shamelessly with a mouthful of you, and then she’s doubling down. Her movements turn sloppy and focused and fucking needy, licking like she’s trying to earn your forgiveness. You keep your eyes on her, watching her strain against the cuffs, watching her fall apart under you.

“That’s it,” you breathe, rolling your hips slow over her tongue. “Just like that. Look at you. So desperate to make up for being bad.”

A noise escapes her, muffled and obscene. You feel it reverberate through your whole body.

You keep going, hips grinding, words getting filthier by the second. “You love this, don’t you? Getting used. Having me sit on your face like you’re just a toy to cum on. You want to be my good girl so bad.”

She’s moaning beneath you now, tongue working faster, almost frantic. You glance down, and that’s when you notice it: the way her body is tensing. The way her hips jerk against nothing. The tiny, helpless whimper she lets out.

She’s coming.

“Oh, Sev,” you say, laughing breathlessly as you reach a hand back, fingers slipping between her thighs. Her clit is soaked and swollen. You rub slow, lazy circles as you keep riding her face, and she just takes it—tied up, overstimulated, and practically vibrating with need.

“You came just from this? From eating me out?” You give her a few more strokes and she whines deep in her throat. “God, you’re such a mess. That tongue still working?”

It is. Barely. She sticks it out like she’s offering it to you, like she’ll keep going until she physically can’t anymore. And that’s exactly what she does. She lets you ride her face until you’re falling apart above her with a cry and grinding down harder to ride it out.

You don’t linger long.

You uncuff her wrists gently, and she immediately brings her hands down, arms shaky, fingertips brushing your thighs with a quiet sort of intimacy. You shift off her chest and lean down to kiss her.

“You okay?” you murmur between kisses, brushing your thumb along her cheek.

Sevika smiles like she just won the lottery. “You kidding?” she breathes. “I’m amazing.”

"Good. Me too." you say and you're both just smiling at each other like idiots for a while. "Anyways, about that fucking I was talking about."

It doesn't take much longer after that until you've got her strap-on securely on her hips. She helps as best she can, but she's too shaky for all the buckling and adjusting.

Still, there's something sweet in the effort she makes to keep her hands steady. You take over for her and, as soon as it’s secure, you crawl into her lap and line yourself up before sinking down with a sharp gasp.

“You can touch me now,” you whisper, bracing yourself against her shoulders. “Touch as much as you like. I think you've earned it.”

Her hands go immediately to your hips, grip firm, and she groans deep in her throat when you bottom out.

“Fuck,” she mutters, letting her head fall back for a second. “M'still so fucking sensitive…”

You lean in, pressing your forehead to hers, voice low and teasing. “You wanna be good for me?”

“Of course,” she says, instantly. And she's breathless, still wrecked, still eager.

“Then I don’t care if you’re sensitive,” you tell her, rocking your hips slowly to start, letting her feel every inch. “I want to come. So you’re gonna let me use you, aren’t you?”

The noise she makes is strangled, pulled from somewhere low and vulnerable. She nods helplessly, hips jerking up despite herself. You smirk down at her, not bothering to hide your satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

She mutters something under her breath—creating a fucking monster, or something close enough—and it only makes you grin wider.

You ride her with purpose, grinding down hard with every bounce, angling your hips so that the base of the harness rubs just right against her clit with each thrust. It’s slow torture, and you know it. You feel it in the way her grip tightens, in the way her eyes flutter, in the little frustrated groans she lets out every time her body bucks up to meet you, desperate to take some semblance of control but holding back.

“Look at you,” you pant, fingers sliding through the hair at the back of her neck. “Trying so hard to be good.”

And she is. She is—trembling, sweating, falling apart beneath you. She tries to keep still, to let you have it the way you want, but the pressure is too much. Her hips start jerking up with every downward stroke, chasing something she can’t stop herself from needing. You don’t stop her.

When she comes again, it’s with a gasp and a full-body shudder, mouth slack, body tensing and then breaking into ripples beneath you. The desperate, quiet moan she lets out as she finishes nearly drags you under with her.

You follow not long after, riding her through it, coming with a cry as your body finally caves to everything she’s giving you. Everything she's letting you take.

You collapse against her chest, both of you panting, slick with sweat and shaking.

Eventually, Sevika’s arms wrap around you, warm and loose, and you stay there for a long moment—just breathing each other in.

“Was that everything you hoped?” you murmur into her neck.

“Better,” she says, lips brushing your temple. “Thank you.”

You just smile, lips brushing her throat. “Anything for my baby.”

1K notes · View notes

all4simone · 13 days ago

Text

── 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: 😘😘👁️👁️

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