#Ellie williams x reader

[ellierium]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: ellie wants to eat you whole. you let her! and maybe return the favor.

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: ellie williams x fem!reader

𝙘𝙬: smut — fingering, pussy eating, face riding, "sloppy" descriptions, dirty talk. mention of blood. vague plot.

✧˖*°࿐

Having sex with Ellie isn’t bad at all. You learn a lot about her.

She has sensitive ears (you knew that) and a sensitive neck (you didn’t know that). Her sides were ticklish, but when you run your hands down to her waist, she responds beautifully. A symphony of breathy moans and pretty whispers. Her hair is a light halo over her head and she looks too comfortable being sprawled out on your bed. She doesn’t stay there for long, of course. She’s too eager to do that.

Her kisses trail down the crook of your neck, onto your shoulder, down your chest. She knows you like kisses on your stomach, on your hips, on your pussy. It makes her dizzy, how much you want and how much she’s willing to give.

It suddenly feels like too much and not enough. 

“Ellie,” you whine breathily, but only when Ellie’s tongue trails down your stomach, “Ellie– Ellie.”

She’d never focused on the way you said her name before. Now that she is, it was the only way she wanted her name to be said. 

“Yeah?” She breathes, lifting her head from your torso. You stare down at her, your chest heaving, her eyes half-lidded. You can’t really form any words, so Ellie nips at your hip bone. Your hips twitch up towards her face. You blush a pretty pink, and Ellie decides then and there that she is going to eat you whole.

“C’mere,” you say, sweet enough that Ellie does. If you told her to commit mass murder with that voice, she would. 

You pull her down for a kiss that had your teeth knocking into each other. You could swear your lip was bleeding, but then Ellie’s tongue is lapping up any blood that would be there, and you can’t help but groan. Ellie sucks on your bottom lip, making it swell and bruise. She pulls away, only to push you down.

“Didn’t realize you’d be this rough,” you laugh, winded and a little crazed. 

“Making up for lost time,” she grins back, leaning down to place more kisses on your chest. It works well to shut you up. 

“Oh, yeah?” You suck in a breath, only half-trying to get away from Ellie’s lips.

A teasing bite to your hip makes you grunt, and your hips jerk. 

Ellie could probably spend the rest of her life figuring out what makes you sound so pretty. She’d never thought that hard about what you would be like in bed– thinking about you as hers was enough, at least it used to be. Now, though, with you pliant and at her mercy, her mind is racing. 

She can’t help the deranged grin on her face, can’t help smothering her face into your side. She hums when it makes you gasp.

“Ellie,” you whine again, your fingers tugging and pulling at strands of her hair. “C’mon.” 

Ellie seriously does not need to be told twice. 

She has half the mind to push her luck, though– see if she could make you beg, but saves it for another day. 

She tugs at your sweats impatiently, doesn’t wait for you to kick them off your legs before she tugs down your underwear and lets her fingers graze over your wet pussy. She said she was making up for lost time. She meant it. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, your eyes glaze over, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” Ellie snarks quietly, ignoring the harsh tug from your fingers. She sighs, pressing kisses to your pussy, licking just to see what you would do. 

You don’t disappoint. You immediately look down, your lips parted over a gasp, your eyebrows pinched. Your pussy is absolutely drooling, but Ellie very happily licks it up. 

“God–” 

As Ellie slowly eases in two fingers, she hums softly at the sound of your greedy cunt swallowing her fingers up. She pumps her fingers in and out of your pussy, slow and gentle. She rests her head on your thigh for a moment.

“You’ve gotten head before, no?” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. You nod, your whole body twitching with every kiss she placed there. She smiled.

“You always respond like this?” 

“No,” you breathe, combing your shaky fingers through her hair, “Just you. Dunno why.”

“Just me,” Ellie repeats in a whisper, fascinated. 

She doesn’t give much of a warning for when her tongue would lick up your pussy, but it seems as though she enjoyed it better that way. Ellie watches to see what you like and don't like, and it makes you dizzy how quickly she learns how to make you shudder. 

But Ellie can’t help herself in some way— she loves to shove her tongue into your cunt and lap up your drool. She loves holding your hips down, loves when you look down at her and moan in approval.

“Fuck,” you whimper quietly, trying not to jerk your hips too hard. You shook your head quickly, embarrassed, and Ellie watched with half-lidded eyes. 

“M’close–” You gasp, “No– fuck–”

You whine pathetically when Ellie pulls away, caressing your hip bones. She’s too pretty, Ellie thinks distantly. 

“Why no?” She murmurs, her voice hoarse, and she revels in the way you shuddered.

“Just– so fast,” you mutter back.

“Bad?” 

“Not bad,” you wheeze, half-heartedly tugging Ellie’s face closer to your pussy, “Very good.” 

Ellie continues, keeps going until you cum all over her mouth and chin, until your body seizes up and your thighs lock around her head. She lets you ride out your orgasm, and sits patiently with her tongue out and fingers in your cunt. Once you slump against the mattress, she pulls away, her fingers slipping out as gently as she can muster. She ignores the wetness between her own thighs, instead opting to crawl up on the bed, placing an arm around your waist. 

You look at her like she grew a second head.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Ellie frowns. 

“Ride my face,” you breathe, cheeks rosy, “I’ll make it feel good–”

You don’t have to talk her into it– not at all. She seems positive that she’s going to cum no matter what you do. 

Ellie wastes no time to lay you back down, her touch soft but she’s forceful with it. She pushes your hair out of your face, then carefully straddles your head, keeping her hips up so she can still meet your eyes. It’s a silent question, but you just nod. 

With that, she sinks down, you meeting her pussy with an eager mouth. You don't have a technique per se, but you make up for your lack of experience with your eagerness. You lap at her cunt like a dog, stuffing your face as close as you can, spreading your spit and Ellie’s drool all over her folds. 

“Shiiiiit,” Ellie gasps, hips rocking slow and gentle so as to not hurt you. “Like that, baby— such a good fuckin’ girl—”

You breathe harshly through your nose, not wanting to waste a second away from Ellie’s cunt, and honestly, Ellie doesn’t think she’ll last very long anyway. 

It feels too surreal– feels too much like a dream. Ellie can’t help that her hips are moving on their own, can’t help that she wants to take control.

You notice it— the stutter in her hips— and you squeeze her thighs as if to give her approval. So, she does. You moan against her pussy, your cunt dripping at all the shit Ellie says. Desperate, borderline belligerent, but it makes your clit throb. One of your hands grip her hip like you’d keep her there by force if you had to, so Ellie very safely assumes you like it.

“Mm— your tongue feels so fuckin’ good, baby— soooo deep in my cunt, fuck!”

The way your tongue slides between her folds and flicks against her clit brings Ellie closer to her orgasm with each passing moment. The idea of how much you’re willing to give her has her desperate, chasing her orgasm while she rides your face. Your other hand goes under, two of your fingers easily slipping into her cunt. That coupled with the thought of being the first girl to ever fuck your face is enough to send her over the edge, and she fucks you face ‘til it’s glazed over with spit and cum.

Her thighs shake as she sits up and quickly maneuvers herself so she can flop down next to you. You breathe deep, head swimming and cunt aching. She throws an arm over your waist, fingers caressing your hip bone. You glance over at her, lips quirked up. She’s already smiling, eyes hazy.

“Your turn?”

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. one

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credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

← 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 →

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⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: You didn’t mean to find her. Not really. But the music is loud, the drinks are strong, and somehow you’re caught in her orbit. A glance turns into a touch, a whisper into something more. The night blurs in heat and tangled sheets, a secret meant to stay buried. But when morning comes and your phone won’t stop buzzing, one thing is clear—last night isn’t staying hidden. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 8,4k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: smut, top!ellie, sub! reader, strap-on sex (r!receiving), oral sex and fingering (r!receiving), hair pulling, praise, pet names, modern au,mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, cursing, violence, afab!reader, MEN AND MINORS DNI, multiple part series, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

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There’s a strange feeling in the air tonight— dense, electric, charged with the kind of energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse quicken without reason. The kind of feeling that only comes before things change. Before a shift so subtle, so inevitable, you don’t see it coming until it swallowed you whole. 

Maybe it’s fate sharpening its teeth. Maybe it’s destiny rewriting itself in real time. Or maybe it’s just the way the universe works, pulling you towards something, towards someone, whether you’re ready or not.

You don’t know it yet, but the world you know —the one you’ve mastered, the one that bends to your will— will start slipping through your fingers. The lines you swore you’d never cross will blur into nothing. Not all at once. Just enough to make you wonder if losing it might be the best thing that ever happened to you.

Or the worst.

Either way, by the morning, nothing will ever be the same.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The limousine glides to a stop at the curb, the low purr of the engine nearly drowned out by the deep bass thrumming from behind the club’s velvet-roped entrance. Outside, the city glows. Neon signs flickering against the blacked-out windows, paparazzi cameras flashing like tiny detonations in the dark.

Your dress is custom—something sleek but bright enough to catch the low, moody lights of the club. A perfect deep shade of red, sculpted to hug every curve, paired with heels so high they should be illegal. Your stylist had insisted on the look, calling it “effortlessly sexy”.

But as you step out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your bare shoulders, the silk brushing against your legs, it feels more like armor than fashion.

Your heels click against the pavement. Diamond-studded earrings catch the flashing lights as your name spills from the lips of paparazzi, murmured like a prayer behind metal barricades. Security holds them back, but their cameras? Their cameras never miss.

You inhale deeply, forcing a smile as your friend Olivia loops her arm through yours, her perfume sweet and familiar as she leans in, voice smooth with amusement.

“Ready to have some fun?” 

You nod, but the truth settles low in your stomach.

You don’t know what you’re looking for tonight. A distraction, maybe. A release. Something to remind you that your life is more than a series of curated, picture-perfect moments. More than something to be consumed.

The doorman doesn’t even glance at the list before letting you both in. Past the crowd, past the rules. Straight into the kind of luxury most people only dream about.

Inside, the club is a different world—bathed in gold light, dripping in excess. Crystal chandeliers hang from vaulted ceilings, their reflections fractured in the glassy surfaces of designer champagne flutes. The air is thick with an intoxicating haze of perfume and liquor and the music is a hypnotic heartbeat, moving through bodies like an electric current.

A server appears before you even have to ask, pressing a drink into your hand. It’s cold against your lips, smooth and sweet with just enough of a bite to remind you that it’s expensive. You let it linger on your tongue, relishing the way the warmth spreads through your chest.

Everyone’s looking at you. You can feel it. The stolen glances, the whispers behind manicured hands, the way conversations pause when you walk by. The attention used to unnerve you.

It still does.

But you slip into the role effortlessly. Chin high, lips curved in just the right amount of detached amusement, the slit of your dress parting just enough to tease, the subtle sway of your hips deliberate. 

You don’t stop to acknowledge anyone, but you already saw lots of recognizable faces. Eyes track your every move. They want to talk, to be close, to claim even a second of your attention. 

You let Olivia lead you through the pulsing crowd, past velvet ropes and watchful bouncers, into the VIP section—where the real power plays out. The air here is heavier, thick with the kind of confidence that only comes with knowing you belong.

Not even half an hour passes before she nudges you, her perfectly manicured fingers gripping your arm as she tips her head towards a booth across the room.

“Oh, shit,” she murmurs, her eyes flickering with amusement, with something else. Intrigue. Mischief. “Isn’t that the girl from The Fireflies?”

You take a slow sip of your drink, pretending to be unaffected—heavy on the pretending.

“Really? Ellie Williams?”

“Yeah” Olivia exhales, shaking her head, lips curling into a smirk. “Goddamn, she’s hot as fuck.”

Something shifts. A charged pause. The air seems thicker, humming with something you can’t quite name.

You tilt your head, finally allowing yourself to glance over.

And there she is.

And yeah—she’s indeed hot as fuck.

Ellie is sprawled across the leather booth like she owns it—like the whole damn club bends to her presence. The black fabric of her shirt hangs loose on her frame, the top few buttons undone, teasing just enough of the freckled skin of her chest to be unfair. The sleeves are pushed up, exposing tattoos that wind down her forearms, ink bold against pale skin. Silver rings glint on her fingers as she idly swirls the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light.

She’s not alone—the rest of The Fireflies are scattered around her. Dina is perched on the armrest beside her, scrolling through her phone, half-listening to whatever Jesse is saying, who’s deep in conversation with someone you don’t recognize. But Ellie? She’s elsewhere. Detached. Letting the whiskey burn slow in her throat as the bass-heavy music thrums through the club. Until she looks up.

Until her gaze collides with yours.

And then—when she realizes who she’s looking at—something shifts.

She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t break first. Instead, she keeps staring—not in a fleeting, casual way. She’s studying you. Sizing you up. The smirk tugging at her lips is slow, knowing.

Like she’s been expecting you. Like she’s been waiting for this moment.

Like she knew you’d both end up here eventually.

Your fingers tighten around your drink as you exhale, pulse thrumming against your skin.

Ellie takes a lazy drag of her whiskey. In one slow, deliberate movement, she spreads her legs a little wider, drapes an arm across the back of the booth, and raises an eyebrow.

The tension between you stretches—thin as wire, hot as an exposed filament—buzzing as the glances keep coming. Stolen, lingering, and never accidental.

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs. You’re playing it cool, but the thrum of adrenaline in your veins says otherwise. You can feel her eyes on you even when you look away, even when Olivia keeps talking in your ear, words blurring into the low hum of music and conversation.

And then, she grabs your wrist. “Come on,” she urges, eyes glinting with mischief. “We didn’t come here to sit around.”

You let her pull you onto the dance floor, slipping into the current of bodies that move around you, the music curling around you like smoke. You move easily, letting the rhythm sink into your bones, letting the world blur.

But you keep looking back.

And Ellie—Ellie is still staring.

Her gaze is heavy-lidded, dim light catching in green irises, turning them darker. She lifts her glass to her lips again, slowly, whiskey kissing her mouth as she watches you move.

She looks like she’s enjoying the show.

So you give her one.

You dance, letting the music drown out everything else—the flashing lights, the faceless bodies. The bass thrums through your bones, heartbeat syncing to the rhythm, but no matter how lost you let yourself get, you can still feel her.

Ellie hasn’t moved. Not yet. But her presence is suffocating, pressing into you from across the room. She’s relaxed—almost too relaxed. Like she’s pretending this isn’t affecting her.

But the way her jaw shifts slightly, the way her grip tightens for half a second before she hides it behind another sip?

Yeah. It’s affecting her.

So you push it further.

You let your movements get a little slower, a little more deliberate. Your dress clings in all the right places, the dim lights casting shadows over your skin, and when you open your eyes again, you catch the exact moment Ellie loses her composure.

It’s the way her tongue swipes across her bottom lip. The way her fingers drum against the table, restless, like she’s debating something.

The way she exhales sharply, sets her glass down, and finally moves.

She stands, pushing off the booth with that same lazy confidence, but there’s a new sharpness to it now, a purpose. She murmurs something to Dina, who only smirks, flicks a glance at you, then waves her off. 

She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t weave through the crowd—she cuts through it, a slow, steady force, people shifting around her without a second thought.

"Alright, superstar" Olivia drawls, her grin nothing short of wicked as she catches your eye. "I’ll leave you to your… situation."

You barely get a chance to react before she downs the rest of her drink, runs a slow hand down the fabric of her dress, and locks onto a guy leaning against the bar—tall, sharp-jawed, the kind she loves to toy with.

"Oh, I see..." you murmur, arching a brow as you watch her shift her weight onto one foot, feigning nonchalance, even though you know better. "Text me later—if you even remember how to type by then."

Olivia leans in, pressing a quick, sticky-sweet kiss to your cheek, her perfume blooming warm against your skin.

"Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do" she purrs, voice light, eyes glinting.

Then she’s gone, slipping into the crowd, leaving only the faintest trace of laughter in her wake.

And just like that, you’re alone.

Well—not exactly.

You feel her before you even see her.

The shift in the air. The weight of a gaze. The way the energy of the room tilts—like gravity itself is bending towards her, like she commands the space around her without ever needing to claim it.

Your pulse stumbles.

Ellie moves like she knows she belongs wherever she stands. She doesn’t even have to touch you; just her presence alone is enough to sink beneath your skin, coil around your ribs, settle deep in your stomach.

Her scent—smoke, leather, and the sharp bite of her cologne—wraps around you as she leans in, voice dropping low, teasing.

"You always put on a show like that, or was that just for me?"

Her breath ghosts along your cheek, close enough to taste the warmth of whiskey lingering on her lips.

You don’t answer right away. You let it sit, let the tension pull tight between you. A slow inhale, the ghost of a smirk playing at your lips as you rake a hand through your hair, finally turning to meet her.

And fuck.

Up close, Ellie is lethal. The kind of beautiful that feels like a setup, like a loaded gun placed in trembling hands. Her green eyes gleam, sharp and unreadable. Her gaze flicks down to your tits for half a second, barely noticeable—but you notice.

“That depends.” you murmur, voice smooth, honeyed. “Did you like the show?”

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek, and shit that does something to you. She leans just enough for the space between you to practically vanish, the heat of her breath against your skin.

“I don’t think like is the right word”

Oh.

The music pounds around you, but it’s background noise now—distant, unimportant. Because all you care about is the rush of your own heartbeat, the scrape of Ellie’s voice, and the way she’s watching you like she’s already got her next move planned.

You raise a brow, letting your fingers trace the rim of your glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh yeah?”

Ellie’s gaze drops to your mouth. She smirks. That same lazy, knowing smirk from across the room, only now it’s worse. Now it’s right there.

“Yeah,” she says, voice edged with amusement, with challenge. “I think I need a closer look.”

Your stomach tightens.

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Mmm. I don’t know. You seemed pretty comfortable back there.”

“I was,” she admits, eyes gleaming. “But you were distracting.”

“Distracting?”

She muses, lips twitching. “It's hard to focus on anything else when you’re in the room.”

Jesus Christ.

You should say something witty, something smooth, but it seems that your mind is short-circuiting and working against you. So you settle for something else that doesn’t require snarky comebacks.

You don’t break eye contact as you set your drink down and reach for her whiskey glass, plucking it from her fingers like it belongs to you.

Slowly, you bring it to your lips, tilting your head back to take a sip. The burn of the whiskey is immediate, rich and smoky, but you barely register it. Because all you can focus on is Ellie watching you—watching your mouth, your throat, the way your fingers wrap around her glass.

“It’s good.” You murmur, licking a stray drop off your bottom lip before offering it back.

Ellie takes it without a word. Her fingers brush against yours—just for a second, just long enough to feel deliberate. Then she drinks, lips meeting the same spot yours just touched. Indirect kiss.

Ellie doesn’t react, not outright. She just watches you over the rim of the glass, half-lidded, unreadable, before swallowing the last sip. She nods toward the backs of the bar, where the booths are tucked away in the dim neon haze, shadows swallowing the edges of the room.

“C’mon.” Her voice is low, sure. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

It’s not a question.

You should hesitate. You should throw something sharp her way, something teasing, a push to match her pull. But you don’t.

Not when the warmth of her touch still lingers against your skin.

So you just follow.

After grabbing fresh drinks, you slide into the booth, expecting Ellie to take the seat across from you. But she doesn’t. Instead, she slips in right beside you, close. Casual, unhurried, like it���s the most natural thing in the world.

Her thigh presses against yours, warm through the fabric of her jeans. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth as she leans back against the worn leather seat, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

She takes a slow sip of her drink, the ice shifting with the movement, her other hand resting on her thigh—dangerously close. Close enough that if you shifted even a little, if you so much as exhaled in the wrong direction, her fingers would graze your skin.

You take a sip of your own drink, matching her energy, leaning back just enough that your shoulder presses against her arm, your movements measured.

“You comfortable?” she muses, voice dipping low.

“Yeah,” you turn your head as you answer smoothly “Are you?”

Ellie chuckles, shaking her head, her eyes flicking over your face like she’s figuring out a puzzle she already knows the answer to.

“Oh, I’m real comfortable.” 

She tilts her glass, ice clinking, watching as you drag your fingers along the condensation on yours.

“So…” you hum, drawing out the word and trying to chat a little “What’s next for the great Ellie Williams?”

Ellie exhales, tilting her head back against the booth.

“Studio time. Late nights. Same shit, different album.”

You nod, taking a sip. “Bet it’s gonna be good.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You a fan?”

You lift a shoulder in a shrug, playful. “Maybe. Or maybe I just said that to be nice.”

Ellie scoffs, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

You laugh, looking at her over the rim of your glass. She studies you for a second, eyes sharp and knowing, then leans in, her voice taking on a teasing lilt.

“What about you, pop princess? More shows? Another album?” she quips. “...maybe a fake PR relationship?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

“I don’t do those.”

Ellie gives you a look—unconvinced. “Sure.”

A beat of silence, thick with something unspoken.

If only you both knew

Then, her hand moves lower, fingertips grazing the bare skin of your shoulder. The touch is featherlight, almost absentminded, but you know better. Her other hand slides down slowly until her palm settles on your thigh, just above your knee. You feel the warmth of it through your skin, a quiet claim. Almost possessive.

She’s testing you. Seeing if you’ll pull away.

And you don’t.

“You nervous?” she murmurs, feeling as goosebumps raise in the skin she's touching.

You exhale, meeting her gaze with a challenge. “Not even a little.”

Ellie hums like she doesn’t believe you. Her fingers tighten just slightly against your thigh, pressing firmer, the weight of them making heat coil even lower in your stomach. 

“Then finish your drink.”

Your brow lifts, matching her grin. “Why?”

She tilts her head, green eyes dark, half-lidded, unreadable.

“’Cause we’re getting out of here.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

You know exactly where this is going.

So you knock back the rest of your drink in one smooth motion, the warmth of the alcohol sliding down your throat, mingling with the heat pooling low in your stomach. The sensation is almost dizzying, but not as much as the way Ellie hungrily watches you.

Her fingers remain on your thigh, unmoving except for the lazy brush of her thumb against your skin. A barely-there touch, but still there. When you set the glass down with a soft clink, Ellie smirks.

"Good girl."

Your stomach tightens, but you keep your expression composed, refusing to give her the reaction she wants. Instead, you lean into her touch, letting your thigh press more firmly against her hand. 

And then, just as effortlessly as she slid into the booth beside you, she moves again—standing, slipping out of the seat with an easy grace. Without hesitation, she reaches into her pocket, tosses a couple of bills onto the table, and tilts her head towards the exit.

“My hotel isn’t far.”

Your lips curve, eyes glinting with something playful, but you don’t stand up. Not yet. “Are you always this forward?”

Ellie chuckles, slipping her hands into her pockets, her smirk deepening. “Only when I know what I want.”

You hum, gaze flicking between her lips and her eyes, drawn in by the way she looks at you—steady, unshaken, expectant.

“And what is it that you want?”

Ellie doesn’t hesitate or waver. Her gaze drags over your face, then lower, sweeping over every inch of your body. That look alone answers every question you could possibly have.

She’s eye-fucking you. 

“I think you already know.”

Her voice feels like a dare wrapped in velvet.

She shifts just slightly to let her fingers brush against yours—not quite holding, not quite taking, just enough to make you shiver. To remind you that you’re the one who has to make the next move.

“Last chance, pop star.” Her thumb grazes the inside of your wrist. “You coming or not?

No time to blame the alcohol, the music, her, or even yourself. None of it matters. Not when she’s this close. Not when you’ve already decided—fuck everything.

You don't answer her with words.

Instead, you let your fingers slip fully into hers, a silent answer in the way you squeeze her hand. With unhurried confidence, you rise to your feet, stepping in close, letting her feel the warmth of your body against hers.

Ellie watches you, her smirk deepening, her grip tightening ever so slightly, like she’s making sure you’re real. And then, without another word, she turns, leading you towards the exit, her pace steady, certain— she already knows exactly how this night is going to end.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The elevator ride is painfully slow.

Ellie leans against the mirrored wall, the yellow glow of the overhead lights casting soft shadows along her sharp jawline. You can feel the heat of her gaze, the weight of it pressing against your skin.

“So…” she drawls, tapping a slow rhythm against her thigh. “Have you ever done this before?”

You arch a brow. “Been in an elevator?”

Ellie huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “No, smartass. Snuck away in the middle of the night with someone you barely know.”

You hum, pretending to think as you glance at her from beneath your lashes. “Depends” you say. “Do you count as someone I barely know?”

Ellie exhales sharply, something between a laugh and a scoff as she steps closer until there’s barely a breath of space between you.

“You think you’re funny,” she murmurs, voice just above a whisper.

Your pulse thrums. “I know I am.”

She studies you for a moment, head tilted, before her lips twitch into something smug. “Alright then” she muses, tilting her chin towards the soft ding of the elevator reaching the highest floor. 

“Let’s see if you’re still funny in a minute.”

You step inside, your heels clicking softly against the marble, the sound swallowed by the sheer vastness of the room. Ellie follows, closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

The Four Seasons suite is nothing short of breathtaking—the kind of luxury that feels effortless, curated. The living area is sprawling, tastefully minimal, yet undeniably expensive, all clean lines and plush textures. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city stretches out in a sea of glittering lights, skyscrapers piercing the night sky.

The air is cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood, perfume, whiskey, and something distinctively her. A half-finished whiskey bottle and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts sit on the bar. In the adjoining room, a decadent king-sized bed stands with its pristine sheets rumpled, as if she left in a hurry.

She doesn’t move right away. She just watches you, standing a few steps away, hands in her pockets. She’s giving you a moment to take it all in, to change your mind.

"You sure ‘bout this?" she murmurs, voice lower now, more serious. Less teasing.

Your lips curve, slow and certain. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Ellie exhales a quiet chuckle, running a hand through her auburn mullet before stepping closer. The room feels smaller now, the space between you dissolving into nothing.

“Yeah” she mutters, gaze flickering to your lips. “Didn’t think so.”

And she kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not soft. It’s filled with longing, of knowing about each other without ever really knowing each other, of stolen glances, headlines and rumors that led to this. Her lips are warm, slightly rough from cigarettes and the way she’s been smirking all night.

You match her, hands finding the front of her black shirt, gripping the expensive fabric between your fingers, pulling her closer. Ellie groans against your mouth, low and amused, like she knew you’d be like this— she was just waiting for you to prove it.

She backs you up slowly, guiding without breaking contact, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You sink down, breathless, heart hammering, and Ellie follows, bracing herself over you, one knee between your legs, hands settling on either side of you.

Her hands roam, slow but sure, like she’s mapping you out, memorizing every inch of you beneath her fingertips. The room hums with the soft sound of your breaths, the distant city noise barely audible past the pounding in your ears.

Her lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat. A quiet exhale escapes you when her teeth graze your pulse point, and she smirks against your skin like she’s won something.

Ellie moves with purpose, like she’s savoring every little reaction you give her. The way your breath stutters when her lips graze just below your jaw, the way your fingers clutch at her shirt, pulling her closer, needing more.

The air between you is electric, charged with something you are too far gone to name, but definitely heavy. Her hands press against your sides, fingers flexing like she’s grounding herself, like she needs to remind herself to take her time, try to draw this out.

But then you move—tilting your chin, brushing your lips against her pulse point—and Ellie falters, just for a second. A sharp inhale, a quiet curse under her breath.

She’s kisses you again, deeper this time, more urgent. And you know something inside her has finally snapped.

Her hands grip at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a thrill up your spine. Her weight presses against you, firm, unyielding, and you arch into it, meeting her halfway. There’s no space left between you now, just heat, friction and the dizzying sensation of losing yourself in her.

She pulls back just slightly, just enough to look at you, to study your face in the dim light. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, softer than before, more careful. Her pupils are blown wide, her breathing uneven.

And then—just when you think you have her figured out—she shifts, her breath hot against your ear, pressing her knee harder between your thighs.

“Tell me, princess” she murmurs, voice dipped in something dangerously close to amusement. “Still playing the part?”

It would be so easy to keep up the game, to smirk and tell her that she’s the one who’s falling for it. But Ellie’s knee moves again—just enough to steal the thought right out of your head—and you let out a soft gasp instead of answering.

Your fingers tighten in her hair, and she groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating through you. It’s heady, dizzying, the way she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly how to unravel you.

“That's what I thought…” 

Her fingers finally find the zipper at the curve of your spine, slow and deliberate, the ghost of a touch sending shivers down your skin. She pauses, eyes flicking up to yours, searching, waiting for your approval.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, barely above a whisper—soft, wanting. 

You didn’t mean for it to sound that desperate, but God, you are.

Ellie’s smirk deepens into something downright wicked, her eyes dark with satisfaction. “Fuck…” she mutters, mostly to herself, like she wasn’t expecting you to sound like that, and she wants to hear it again.

Then—slow, torturously slow—she tugs the zipper down, the sound of it impossibly loud in the quiet space between you. The dress pools at your waist before slipping further, guided by her hands, like she’s unwrapping something precious.

And when it finally falls away, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties, Ellie exhales a quiet curse, eyes raking over you like she wants to commit every inch of you to memory.

She can’t quite believe you’re real. But you are. And you are here, beneath her, almost naked and looking up at her like this. Her hands skim up your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, dragging heat in their wake. There’s something almost reverent in the way she touches you, like she’s been waiting for this longer than she’d ever admit. 

“You are even better than I imagined,” she murmurs, voice thick, dark and dizzying. Her gaze flickers back up to yours, and the corner of her mouth tugs into a knowing smirk. “And trust me, gorgeous—I imagined a lot.”

It’s like she’s learning, memorizing. And it’s because she is. This is a moment she wants burned into her mind, something she won’t let fade when the night is over.

“You’re still dressed…” you murmur, running your hands up the fabric of her shirt, fingers tracing over the smooth, expensive material.

Ellie smirks, tilting her head slightly. “Wanna fix that?” Her voice is teasing as she leans in, pressing a peck to your lips, barely pulling away before adding, “Be my guest.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your fingers move to the buttons of her shirt, starting slowly at first, savoring the way the fabric parts beneath your touch, revealing inch by inch of her skin. But patience has never been your strong suit, and before you know it, your fingers are working faster, making quick work of the last few buttons.

Ellie chuckles softly at your eagerness, shrugging the shirt off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. 

Your breath catches, taking her in—her toned arms, her freckled chest, her abs, the ink sprawled across her skin, the way the dim lighting casts shadows over every sharp edge of her body.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you’re looking at her. “Like what you see?”

You swallow, lips curving into something between a smirk and something much softer. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quieter, breathless. “I really do.”

She smirks, all too proud of herself, before lowering her mouth to your body, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest. Each press of her mouth sets your skin on fire as she moves lower, finally reaching your breasts.

Her tongue flicks over a hardened nipple before her lips close around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Her other hand moves to your other breast, fingers squeezing, kneading, rolling your sensitive bud between her fingertips with a precision that makes your breath hitch.

A moan escapes you before you can stop it and Ellie groans low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your skin. She knows exactly what she’s doing, her movements natural, fluid.

You know she has done this more than a hundred times—but right now, with the way she’s touching you, kissing you, looking at you—it feels like you’re the only one.

And the worst part? She’s barely even started.

“You’re unreal,” she mutters against your skin, voice thick with something reverent, almost amazed. “You sure you’re not the one playing me?”

Your breath catches, a slow smirk forming even as your body betrays you, pressing closer, craving more. “Maybe,” you tease, voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe I just like watching you lose control.”

Ellie exhales a quiet laugh, but there’s something darker in her eyes now—something wild, untamed. She leans in, lips ghosting over your jaw, your throat, before settling just below your ear.

“Then I guess we’re both in trouble.”

Ellie’s fingers trail lower as she reaches the waistband of your panties. With a slow smirk, she hooks her fingers into the lace and tugs them down, the fabric slipping over your thighs in one smooth motion. The cool air kisses your heated core, and she exhales sharply, her gaze flickering downward—taking you in, almost ridiculously soaked for her. Just for her.

“Damn…” she murmurs, voice thick with something between amusement and hunger. “Look at you.”

“Fuck, Ellie...” Heat rushes to your face, her fingers ghost over your thigh. She’s barely touching you, barely doing anything at all, and yet—your body is already responding, arching subtly towards her, silently asking for more.

Ellie chuckles, low and knowing. “You’re so easy to read.” She leans in, lips grazing your jaw, her fingers still dancing just at the edge of your glistening pussy. “And so, so needy.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and when she finally moves—finally gives in to what you both want—you can’t stop the breathy moan that slips from your lips.

Ellie grins against your skin, pleased. “That’s more like it, baby. Keep moaning for me like that.”

Her fingers move like pure sin, circling your clit with practiced ease, each motion precise, calculated. Designed to ruin you, untame you. Your moans spill out freely, and you can feel her eyes on you, dark and burning, primal. 

The sight of you like this—bare, undone, completely at her mercy—makes something in her tighten, makes her want to see just how far she can push you.

So she doesn’t give you a second to prepare. One moment, she’s watching you with that signature smirk, and the next—her mouth is on you, tongue sliding through your folds like she’s been starving for this.

“Oh god! Ellie!” You choke on a gasp, hands flying to the sheets, twisting them between your fingers as her tongue works against you.

Ellie eats you out the same way she plays her guitar—expertly, effortlessly, like she was made for this. Every flick of her tongue is deliberate, every slow drag filled with a deep, unrelenting intensity, she’s savoring you, she wants to make a masterpiece out of your pleasure.

“So sweet…” Ellie groans against your cunt, the sound sending vibrations that make your whole body jolt. Fuck, she thinks, feeling the way your thighs twitch, the way your breath stutters, how quickly you fall apart for her. It’s addictive.

She pulls back just enough to spit on your pussy, watching the way your hole clenches around nothing. A quiet chuckle rumbles in her chest, fingers dragging lazily up your slit, collecting everything you’re giving her.

“You’re fuckin’ messy, babe." She murmurs, half in awe, half just to tease. 

Before you can even think to respond, her tongue is on you again, dragging slow and deliberate licks over your swollen clit while two fingers ease their way inside, stretching you open.

You inhale sharply, your thighs instinctively trying to snap shut around her, but Ellie is quick, her free hand pressing against your hip, keeping you right where she wants you.

She curls her fingers just right, feeling the way your walls flutter around them. She watches you from beneath heavy lids, drinking in the way your head tilts back, lips parting, how every needy sound you make is just for her.

Her lips curve against your heat before she bites down on your clit softly—just enough to make your breath hitch, your fingers tighten in her hair. Her fingers move in tandem, thrusting slow but deep, curling just right against your spongy spot to make pleasure coil tighter and tighter inside you.

You can’t even form words, only breathy, broken sounds slipping past your lips. Your body moves on instinct, rolling against her mouth, chasing that high she’s so effortlessly pulling you towards. Ellie groans at the way you react to her, the vibrations sending a new wave of heat spiraling through you.

“Takin’ it so perfectly, princess,” she muses, her voice rough with satisfaction. One hand smooths along your thigh, grounding, teasing, keeping you exactly where she wants you. The slick, obscene sounds of her fingers and mouth working on you grow louder, matching the frantic pace of your pulse.

You’re so close, you can feel it—electric, unbearable, curling low. Like a thread waiting to snap. 

“I—hah!—Ellie, I’m gonna—” Your voice breaks as pleasure crashes over you, white-hot and dizzying. Your body tightens, trembles, pleasure snapping through every nerve as you cry out, gripping onto her like she’s the only thing anchoring you.

Ellie doesn’t pull away immediately, working you through it, her mouth still lazily exploring, drawing out every last aftershock until your thighs are trembling around her. Only then does she ease back, slow and deliberate, her fingers slipping from you with a quiet, wet sound.

You barely have time to catch your breath before she lifts them to her lips, her eyes locking onto yours, utterly shameless. She slides them past her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

“Too good to waste” she mutters, the rasp in her voice making heat flicker in your belly all over again.

You watch her with a dazed expression, your mind still lost in the aftershocks, chest rising and falling as you try to remember how to breathe.

This is almost too good to be true.

And thank God it is.

Ellie watches you with half-lidded eyes, her breath heavy, chest rising and falling as she takes in the sight of you—disheveled, skin glistening, lips parted as you gasp for air. She knows she’s wrecked you, and fuck, she loves it. Loves the way you look at her, like she’s the only thing that exists in the world right now.

“Shit babe, you soaked the bed…” she murmurs, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips as she drags her fingers up your trembling thighs. “Do I turn you on that badly?”

Your head barely nods, your body still buzzing, heat pooling in your stomach again even though you haven’t fully come down. “Mhmm.”

Ellie huffs out a quiet chuckle, pressing her lips against the inside of your knee before pulling back just enough to unbuckle her belt. Your breath hitches as she unfastens it, sliding her jeans and grey boxers down her hips, revealing the deep purple strap nestled between her thighs.

And It’s almost unfair how good she looks like this. Shirt unbuttoned, muscles flexing as she strokes the length of the toy once, watching you with amused eyes.

And let's just say, you are shocked.

How the hell did you not notice it before? It’s thick, long, and attached to a harness that presses snugly against her lower abdomen—bigger than anything you’ve ever taken.

Your gaze flickers between her face and the toy, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. Ellie notices, her smirk widening. “Something wrong, baby?”

You swallow, your voice coming out weaker than you want it to. “N-no.”

Your breath stutters, eyes widening. “Nervous, pretty girl?” Ellie quirks a brow. She clicks something at the base of the strap, and suddenly, a sound vibrates with a low hum. 

You shake your head, but the anticipation, the way your legs shift, betrays you. Ellie just smirks, gripping your knee and spreading you open. 

“It’s okay” she says, and for a moment, her voice is softer “You can always tell me if it’s too much.”

A thread of something unspoken lingers between you, but then she’s pressing the tip against your soaked entrance, teasing, watching your breath hitch, and any softness vanishes into something much darker.

She pushes in—slow, stretching you inch by inch, letting you feel every single second of it.

You let out a sharp cry, your fingers flying up to grasp at her shoulders, nails digging in. Ellie groans at the sight, her pupils blown wide, her fingers flexing against your thigh as she stills for just a second, letting you adjust. “Shit…” she rasps, voice thick. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Your walls flutter around the length, the feeling making your whole body shudder. “F-fuck…” you whimper, the sound breathy, desperate.

Ellie grips your face with one hand, tilting your chin up so you have no choice but to look at her. “Tell me how it feels.” she demands, her thumb brushing over your parted lips.

“Good—so fucking good—Ells…” you gasp, your voice breaking as she bottoms up, letting you feel the thickness of the toy against your walls. Then, she shifts, gripping your hips tighter, pulling you flush against her as she sinks deeper, her thrusts picking up pace.

“Yeah?” Ellie breathes, watching the way your body trembles beneath her. “Gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to think straight,”

Your head tilts back and your eyes dart shut as you moan, pleasure sparking through you like wildfire, but Ellie isn’t having that. “No.” she grits, leaning down, her breath hot against your ear. “Look at me.”

She grips your jaw, tilting your face back toward her, her lips just inches from yours. 

“I want you to look at me fucking you.”

The way she says it—so raw, so commanding—has you clenching around her, has your legs shaking as she fucks you harder, deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your mind blank.

Your eyes flutter open, and what you see nearly ruins you. Ellie, flushed and wrecked with desire, watching you fall apart beneath her, completely at her mercy.

Her smirk returns, slow and knowing. “That’s my girl.”

“F-fuck, right there—Ellie, please!” you babble, your voice breaking as she adjusts the angle, pressing your knee up to your chest so she can sink in even deeper and hit that spot that makes you fall apart. Your fingers claw at her back, clinging to her as if letting go would shatter you completely.

Ellie groans, sweat slicking her forehead, the vibrations from the toy sending shocks of pleasure through her own body. She’s close, she knows it, but she wants you there first. Needs to see you unravel beneath her, to make you tighten around her.

Your moans turn into choked sobs of pleasure, your body going rigid as the coil inside you snaps. “I—shitt—I’m gonna—!”

And then it happens. Your back arches, your legs shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm crashes through you, your vision going white. The sheer intensity of it rips a cry from your throat, your nails digging deeper into her back as your body spasms.

“Jesus fucking christ…” Ellie curses, watching the way your release splashes everywhere, coating her toy, dripping down between your thighs and her lower abdomen. “Did you just—fuckk—did you just squirt?”

And just like that, with one last deep thrust, she shudders, her own orgasm overtaking her as the toy grinds against her in just the right way. “Oh god, I—”

Her muscles go taut, her forehead dropping against your shoulder as her breath leaves her in a sharp exhale. She rides it out, her body trembling against yours before she finally stills, catching her breath.

She’s careful as she pulls out, the slick sound making both of you shiver. A low whistle leaves her lips as she looks down at the mess between your legs.

You can’t form words, your body still convulsing, overstimulated and spent. Ellie watches you, chest heaving, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. “Goddamn…” she murmurs, grinning lazily as she flops beside you.

“You really did soak the bed.”

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the smell of coffee.

The second thing you notice is that your body hurts—a deep lingering soreness that reminds you exactly how last night went down. And let’s just say, it was a long night.

You stretch lazily against the sheets, tangled almost beyond saving, blinking against the light filtering through the curtains. The room is a mess, whiskey glasses half-empty on the nightstand, your dress discarded in a careless heap on the floor, the air still heavy with the scent of sex.

The steady hum of the shower echoes from the bathroom. You exhale, running a hand through your hair as you sit up, the sheets slipping down your bare skin covered only by your lace panties. Your fingers find the nearest whiskey glass, bringing it to your lips—only to find it empty.

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. Of course. Ellie Williams never does leave you anything to sip on but trouble.

And then she walks in.

A towel slung over her shoulders, fresh boxers hanging low on her hips, a white tank top clinging to her still-damp skin. Her auburn short hair, darker from the shower, is pushed back in that frustratingly effortless way.

Your breath catches.

Maybe it’s the afterglow, or maybe it’s just her—but she looks too good. Unfairly good.

Ellie glances at you, grabbing her coffee cup from the table. “Damn, you survived.”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Barely.”

Your body feels wrecked, and you’re painfully aware of exactly why. But there’s no time to dwell on it—your fingers fumble for your phone on the nightstand, and when you check the time, your stomach drops.

Shit. You were supposed to be at the studio an hour ago.

With a sigh, you throw the sheets off and swing over the edge of the bed, standing on shaky legs. Ellie watches, her smirk widening, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shoot her a glare. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She leans back against the dresser, legs spread, mug cradled loosely in her hands, eyes dragging over you in that slow, unhurried way. She’s memorizing every mark she left, every inch of bare skin now illuminated by the light. “Just appreciating the aftermath.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks warm anyway. Before you can shoot back a response, she tosses something your way—a soft bundle of fabric. You catch it midair, unfolding it. A T-shirt. Hers, obviously.

“This is all I’m getting?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

Ellie flops onto the edge of the bed, pulling on her jeans, that fucking smirk never leaving her lips. “What, you want a medal too?”

“No, dumbass. Pants.” You gesture to your mostly bare legs. “Or am I supposed to just strut out of here in nothing but this?”

Ellie hums, head tilting like she’s actually considering it. “I mean… yeah? Could be a serve.”

You glare. “Ellie.”

She grins, taking another slow sip of coffee. "Alright, alright. You can borrow something.”

You huff, pulling her shirt over your head, the fabric soft and smelling like her. “Generous.”

She snickers, getting up to rummage through her bag. A moment later, a pair of jeans lands on your lap. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

You unfold them and immediately groan.

“Oh, come on,” you grumble, holding up the jeans.“These are massive. I look like I raided my dad’s closet.”

Ellie, still perched against the dresser, tilts her head, eyes dragging over you in that slow, lazy way that makes your stomach flip. “Nah,” she muses, taking a sip of her coffee. “If you were wearing your dad’s jeans, they wouldn’t make me wanna fuck you all night again.”

Your breath catches—just for a second—before you recover, scoffing as you lob a pillow at her face. She dodges easily, laughing, while you mutter under your breath, pulling the jeans on. They hang ridiculously low on your hips, and you have to roll the waistband several times to make them even somewhat wearable. With a huff, you snatch a belt from the chair, looping it through and cinching it tight.

By the time you’re slipping on your shoes, Ellie is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, her smirk growing by the second. She’s watching you with that barely concealed amusement, like she’s holding back from making some smartass comment.

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

She nods toward your legs, lips twitching. “Nothing,” she says, voice dripping with amusement. “Just… loving the fit.”

You glance down at yourself—the borrowed jeans, the oversized shirt, and all of that paired with heels. The entire disheveled aftermath of last night wrapped up in one ridiculous outfit. It’s not your fault she wears jeans three sizes too big and still manages to look good.

You shoot her a glare, grabbing your phone from the nightstand. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stealing my clothes.” She takes another sip of her coffee, watching you struggle with your belt. “Might as well start charging you rent.”

You roll your eyes and head for the door, but just as you reach the threshold, her voice stops you.

“Hey.”

You glance back over your shoulder, eyebrows raised in silent amusement.

Ellie, standing in the doorway, tilts her head, her lips curling into a playful grin. “Hope to see you around, superstar.”

You return the look, shrugging as you take a step backwards into the hallway. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Ellie chuckles under her breath, shaking her head in mock disbelief.

“Absolute fucking menace” 

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The air outside bites at your skin as you step out of the hotel, the morning sun glaring too bright for your tired eyes. Your phone buzzes in your hand—a quick reminder that your driver is two minutes away.

You glance down at yourself: your own clothes abandoned somewhere in a hotel room you never bothered to retrieve, and Ellie’s oversized t-shirt draped over your frame, hanging just a little too big, screaming that it isn’t yours. Great.

You roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the ghost of last night’s lingering touch, the memory of her hands gripping your waist, her lips trailing over your skin. You told yourself it was just fun, a wild one night stand with a hot rockstar to take the edge off. 

But now, you can’t help but feel that your body still hums with the echo of her touch.

You don’t notice the subtle flicker of movement—a camera shutter clicking once, twice, in a quiet, practiced rhythm drowned out by the city noise.

The soft thud of the car door seals you off from the world, and as you settle into the seat, you catch your own scent—a heady mix that unmistakably smells just like her. You rest your head back and inhale slowly, grounding yourself as the car pulls away from the curb.

But you don't know that across the street, a photographer flips through his shots, zooming in on your face. 

You don’t know that in just an hour, your name will be trending worldwide—paired inseparably with hers.

And you don’t know that later, back in the hotel room, Ellie is still standing by the window, scrolling through her phone. She pauses, eyes narrowing as a fresh notification pops up, a text from her manager— with a TMZ headline.

Your name. 

Hers.

“Shit.”

────────────

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taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMG OMG OMG THAT SHI WAS INTENSEEE. its so long im sorry lmaooo. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[edenspoem]

butch!ellie.. i pray for times like this..

yes.. my idea for her (in that 1950s au i'm writing) is just her being THEE provider, but also being provided for the moment she gets home. thing is, it's in her nature to immediately slacken into her reclining chair and watch television during dinner, but if her wife so graciously persists her to join them at the table—she will. as any good, loving and abiding husband should! (she'd love getting called husband, idgaf) and—as her wife would have it, ellie gets dish-cleaning duties. after dinner, each time. even though it takes a couple playful reprimands to get her to do some chores, she genuinely loves to help out. she's just.. tired. all the time. omg and since she chooses outfits for reader (which, come rain or shine, comes out of her wallet), she gets outfits choosen for her. still big on plaid. unbuttoned shirts at home. win-win situation. same with lingerie. and she has her preferred styles (considering she, when she was younger, would rifle through those mag pages of pin-up girls with peeled eyes): no garters so she can paw at your bare thighs, something flowy and frilly because illusion and leavings things to the imagination is what gets her going. and she's texture-specific. will beg like a tipsy loser for you to wear one of her favorites. ugh i can't wait to write these hcs.

[marscardigan]

packing it up, part iv

ellie williams x fem!reader

college smau. what started as math lessons with ellie turned into something more.

series masterlist

a/n: can you tell i love angst?

taglist !

@autisticintr0vert @vahnilla @dollinrehab @kaykeryyy @elliesactualgirlfriend @elliewilliamskisser2000 @usuck @liztreez @monki-nat @elliecoochieeater @valeisaslut @livvietalks @iheartclairo66

[madewithsilk]

Ellie spanking you then making you get off on her thigh for roaming around the house without her permission after she kidnapped you (with her gentle validating after care of course)

— ᴀʙᴅᴜᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴏʀ ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ x ᴄᴀᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ (ꜰ!) ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄᴡ; ᴅᴜʙ ᴄᴏɴ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴛʜɪɢʜ ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ, ᴅᴀᴄʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ

Ellie’s home had a lingering chill, a sense of eeriness that made it feel even more desolate. Being trapped there against your will, with a constant ache of homesickness gnawing at you, was daunting enough. Yet Ellie somehow managed to amplify that feeling. She was often absent and at work, leaving you alone in a space that felt like a hollow shell. The temptation to escape was strong, but deep down, you knew Ellie had taken every precaution to keep her house locked down tight. Despite her attempts to show a flicker of trust—leaving you untethered, without bindings—she still enforced a firm rule: you were not to step beyond the confines of her bedroom.

You followed these rules for the most part, too frightened to go against her will. She ensured to serve you a daily reminder her kindness had limits, and they wouldn’t be taken lightly.

Yet it was currently so late, boredom seeping through every fiber of your being, enough to beguile you further than usual. Ellie wasn’t home on time, the front door firmly shut, no sound of keys rattling as she walked in or a huff of relief to finally be home. Every day you developed an anticipation for her arrival because it meant you could leave your confines as long as she was haunting you.

You’d watch her shower, the steam mingling with the warmth of your thoughts. She’d make dinner, then pretend as if you were her willful and loving partner. It was all her fantasy and you were easily swept into it. You began to crave her presence and routine, so watching it break right before your eyes effortlessly got your hands trembling in apprehension.

You walked on the tip of your toes, feathers on your feet as you made your way to the door. Your shaky hand engrossed the doorknob, taking a deep breath of reluctance. You hesitated, all the possible consequences inescapable. The door creaked as it opened, a small gap yet big enough to go through. The lights were mostly off, a dark sense of depth overtaking you. Regret immediately flooded your body yet you already opened the door so you kept on going.

Your bruised form eased its way through the dim hallway, fingers brushing the wall until you found the light switch. As you flipped it, the dark receded, revealing the room’s contours and textures illuminated in warm light. A rush of possibilities flooded your mind—what stuff could you get into now that Ellie wasn’t around to supervise? Mostly guilt roamed your sentimens, but you hadn’t been granted freedom in oh so long.

You first made your way to the living room, wandering around the ample area. The place was silent, a lack of yelling or TV static noises. It started to bore you, unsure of where the remote controller was and therefore finding no purpose in there any longer.

You walked over to the kitchen instead, no sight of a mess. Ellie kept it tidy and straightened. You didn’t wish to ruin it in a million years, and she’d never even notice you were out here. You situated on the counter, cold marble flush against your thigh and forcing your face into a shocked wince. All you did there was stare at the cabinets, rearranging them, still believing Ellie would never notice.

Unbeknownst to you, Ellie was at the front door, just so excited to see her sweet girl. The highlight of her day was getting home to you, playing pretend, and happy couple. It would help her forget all about the day. Yet when she walked in and took off her shoes and coat, something was off. The lights were on. Her first thought wasn’t to blame you, instead worried someone had broken in. She trusted you incredibly, doubting you’d leave the room without approval.

That thought quickly left her mind when she noticed you perched on the counter, not a single care in the world. Her face dropped, eyebrows tensing and hands clenching. She didn’t waste time striding over to you and before you had time to notice, she fisted a large portion of your hair and tugged on it harshly. You squealed, eliciting a scoff from her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She didn’t shout, nor whisper. Her voice was neutral and levelheaded yet her tone was firm and angry.

You stumbled off the counter, whimpering at her harsh grip. Your hands scurried to her bicep, trying to get her off but she just held on tighter. “Are you fucking with me?” She continued, pressing your chest against hers and glaring at you. Her eyebrows furrowed, gesturing at you to respond instead of staying silent like a guilty, caught puppy.

Your breathing pattern was uneven, feeling as if a large weight was placed on your chest. A lump developed in your throat, parting your lips into an O shape and simply getting mocked by Ellie. You shook your head, tears welling at your eyes. Ellie groaned in annoyance, firmly tapping your cheek. She was trying to restrain herself from fully smacking you. “I didn’t mean to— Els-“ You mumbled, babbles spilling out your lips and becoming a crying mess. “Didn’t mean to open the door and do whatever you wanted? Seriously?” Her vision narrowed at you. She effortlessly dragged you to the living room, your wobbly figure standing between her spread legs, wrists in her hand.

She hiked up your skirt aggresively, using both hands to tear your panties off. The humiliation heated your body, yet slick pooled at your cunt. It was embarassing, shame visible on your rosy, tear-stained cheeks. She expected ultimate loyalty from you. “Gonna keep making fucking excuses for yourself or get your ass bent over my lap?” You shook your head, a choked out sobed leaving your swollen lips with inaudible rambles. “Sorry— M’so sorry,” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, pulling your tummy on her lap and splaying your ass out for her.

“Gonna say thank you every time, ‘kay?” Her faux sweet voice had you biting your lip to stop the sobs, nodding your head in compliance. “Thank you because I’m so fucking generous with you,” Her hand came down on your ass, watching it slightly recoil and redden. “Thank you,” You mumbled, voice cracking. “Thank you ‘cause I’m not hurting you right now.” She kept repeating reasons, a second smack on your other cheek. You simultaneously repeated thank you’s.

Your hips rutted against her lap needily after the tenth smack, trying to distract her from the punishment, squirming on her lap to get away. Ellie tuts and shakes her head, holding your hips tightly. “Where are you going?” She spoke, hand caressing the red spots. “Wanted to be a big girl so fucking bad, now you wanna be fucked like if you’re mine?” You huff with tears, stilling your movements while your lip was snugly placed between both lips. Either way, you nodded in agreement.

“Too fucking bad, gonna be treated like a big girl.” She got an intense hold on your nape, pulling you to sit upright on her lap. Your pussy was drooling onto Ellie’s clothed thigh, creating a damp spot. You wiggled around, hand palming at her crotch. “You know what I wanted to do tonight, babydoll?” She whispered, guiding your hips to gently rock against her thigh. You nodded, yet were hardly paying attention to the way her thigh pressed against your cunt. Your mouth was agape and moaning slightly.

“Wanted to share a nice dinner, bathe together, hold you so fucking close,” She began, hand tracing your every dip and curve. You nodded to gesture you were still listening, feeling negligibly apologetic. “Then fuck you to sleep jus’ how you like it, reward you for cooperating since I got you here.” She scoffed at the mere thought of it, shaking her head. You whimpered with your eyebrows knitting together. You wanted that, craved her validation and sweet words. “Now— Now what?” Your voice was shaky and high-pitched.

She gestured with her eyes at where your cunt and her thigh connected, “Gonna keep going till you cum and make a mess on me.” She lifted a brow while thinking. “Maybe let you sleep on the fucking floor so you can learn.” You whimpered, the pace increasing against her thigh. Ellie moved her hands to your thighs, simply wanting to observe. Your cunt was making nasty wet sounds against Ellie’s jeans, hoping it would please her, silently begging her to be nice again.

She hummed in approval, groaning while staring at the spot your pussy connected to her thighs, the way your brows knit together and lips parted with moans spilling out. “Poor baby,” She taunted, licking her lips. Staring at your fucked out expression just made her feel the slightest amount of pity, placing her hand between your legs and rubbing tiny, precise circles on your clit. “Fuck,” You whimpered, eyes now squeezing shut and leaning against Ellie.

“Language, babydoll.” She scolded, kissing down your neck. You were so close, reigning in the privilege of Ellie’s touch. Your hips stuttered, a knot forming in your tummy. She grabs your jaw hardly, “Open your mouth.” You oblige so quickly, mouth parted, tongue lolling out like a bitch in heat. Ellie spit into your mouth, her saliva dripping down your tongue before you swallowed.

Your orgasm crashed against you, hiding your face into Ellie’s neck desperately. She loved when you were broken down for her, knowing this lesson would stick with you. “Dirty fucking girl.” She whispered, holding your head against her neck snugly. Her hands ran over the red marks on your ass from her repetitive spanks. You wince, back arching away from her.

As you came down from your high, emotions colliding with reality, tears begin to spill endlessly. Was she truly mad at you? Would she really make you sleep on the ground? You clung to her as she whispered soft praises into your ears. "Why are you crying?" Ellie wondered, watching you tear your head away from her. Ellie frowned at the pathetic expression you had presented to her.

"I'm so sorry," You mumbled over and over again. “Don’t wanna be on the floor, need you!” Your exclaims were loud and slightly surprising, Elie holding you closer. She was amused by how attached you were. She had imagined it would take longer to turn you so dependent. “Poor babydoll, I’ll take care of you, in bed.” She clarified and you let out a relieved sob, growing fonder and fonder by the moment.

She takes you to the bathroom and makes the bath she was already thinking about. She needed to make you think she was so damn charitable and nice to you so you wouldn't pin the blame on her but rather you. And also, some deep-down affection as she scrutinized the state you were in. She places you in there and soon joins, keeping you skin to skin, rubbing the sore spots and perhaps getting you off once again with her hands this time.

[korn-dawg]

loser!ellie who gets drunk or high one night with jesse and puts the national anthem in her sex playlist

loser!ellie who forgets she did that until the next time y’all fuck and it started blaring mid-nut

loser!ellie who gets startled and falls the fuck off the bed, ruining her own orgasm

that’s its that’s the post thanks for coming to my tedtalk my daily fic will b out later !!

[meganegatari]

regret & saudade; loose threads ⭑.ᐟ

Made to attend a basement party in your heartbroken state, you come face to face with Ellie—your ex, the one you can’t forget. Tension lingers in every glance, every remark, as saudade thrums between you, a love lost but never gone. In the haze of liquor and longing, the night may unravel—and even reignite.

☆: this a collab with the loveliest of lovely people, @bloodstainedsapphic ♡ musing about this with you was the most fun thing ever, i don't know how i'll ever be able to express just how talented you are, and how thankful i am for all your contributions here!! ...i mean chat, all the credit goes to lyss. i'm serious!! thank you sm lyssbug, and i better see yall thanking her too!! hope y'all enjoy :) ellie's m.list.

◇: 18+ mdni. alcohol consumption, ellie’s a little mean (she's hurt), reader as well + tension, tension, and more tension. whiny sub!ellie x mouthy dom(ish)!reader, oral & nipple sucking (e! recieving), and she has hip tattoos lol. also contains angsty themes and a purposely ambiguous ending. ++ 3.6k word count.

Getting dragged out of bed for a basement party hosted by a friend of a friend was the last thing you wanted tonight. Yet, here you were, begrudgingly getting ready—much to your dismay—to indulge your friends’ wishes.

Parties weren’t exactly a common occurrence in Jackson, at least not ones that didn’t involve the community church. Hardly anyone bothered to put energy into organizing gatherings for the young folk to get drunk and act recklessly when survival took precedence. Still, once in a blue moon, someone made an effort, and word spread fast.

Yes, you understood why your friends insisted. They meant well. This was a rare chance, and they were worried about you, trying to pull you out of the misery pit you had plummeted into recently. Woe is you for having people who care, even if their grand solution included shuffling you into a crowded, musty room with cheap booze for a few hours.

But this was also the last party you wanted to be at for one crucial reason: your ex, Ellie, was bound to be there.

Your ex wasn’t any more of a party animal than you were, but you were sure the extroverted mutual friends who had adopted you both had undoubtedly coaxed her into going, just as they had with you.

There was simply no sugarcoating it. You had been drowning in the throes of heartbreak hell in the weeks since you and Ellie broke up. The decision itself was “mutual”—whatever the fuck that meant. Anyone with half-open eyes could recognize that unresolved feelings were lurking beneath the surface.

But still, you were somehow convinced that Ellie was coping with the heartache better than you. Mainly because you were managing it so terribly, it’d be difficult for her to be in worse shape. The thought of seeing her and proving your suspicions either way made your stomach churn.

Conjuring up the will to act like a functioning human for the night, you finally joined Hesse half a block away from the house and made your way over.

The space wasn’t anything special. Just another grungy basement, stuffy with age and ever-rotating crowds of partygoers. The wallpaper peeled, curling inward on itself, and the flooring was adorned with decades’ worth of spills and stains. A decent time hinged on the hope that everyone would get wasted enough to forget the unsavory details.

The liquor was crowdsourced—meaning passable but plentiful. Your beeline to the booze might have earned a few raised eyebrows, but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

Ellie’s eyes found you just as you were taking in the low-lit room.

Already nestled in a corner and nursing her umpteenth drink, she was just intoxicated enough to sharpen her spite but not enough to embolden her to speak up—yet. You didn’t take long to find her either, carefully coordinating fleeting glances and using purposeful posturing to feign indifference.

Ellie tracked your every move, attentive to your every step and person you conversed with.

There was some mutual delusion: Ellie misread your avoidance as proof that you were doing just fine, and you misread her detachment in a similar vein. You both assumed the other was moving on when nothing could have been further from the truth.

Ellie had opted for a darker outfit than usual, all black, practically wearing the heartache on her sleeve. Her loosely buttoned cotton shirt hung amply off her frame, adding to her almost ghostly appearance. Her auburn hair, slicked back and muted, due for a wash, looked much less lively than it used to. The speckled ivy green of Ellie’s eyes had dulled, something far more monotone. Her undereye bags lay heavier, cheeks hollowed, a gauntness that was concerning for a girl already thin. Maybe you’d make a snide comment for Dina to pass on just to get her fed—not that you cared. You just didn’t like seeing the girl look like a husk of your Ellie- err, the one you used to know.

And—fuck. that necklace. It looked an awful lot like the one that had vanished from your nightstand months ago.

Wearing it was all but a confession of Ellie’s true feelings—that her apathy was merely a poorly executed act.

You slammed back the first drink too quickly, the burn hardly registering in your throat. The second glass didn’t fare any better. After a few more pours, the alcohol softened your edginess enough to lax you into joining conversations, to dance, to let your friends pull you into something resembling fun—even striking up idle chatter with a few pretty girls, acting as if it wasn’t just to dull the ache.

An indiscernible span of time passed, your focus clouding into a haze that lets you briefly forget the grievous weight in your chest, even if it didn’t wholly undo it.

Then, a brief yet audacious tap on your shoulder.

You already knew who it was from the distinct way her pointer fingers pressed into your skin.

“You’re out tonight?” Ellie bit out as a greeting, her suffering more pronounced now that she had closed the distance. Her stare, once dimmed, had reignited, brimming anew with an irate temper. Ellie wasn’t the jealous type, but the combination of alcohol and the sight of you mingling with other girls stirred something unfamiliar and ugly within her.

“I am. are you?” You asked snarkily, starting with the obvious of this tense reunion.

Ellie’s eyes twitched, brows furrowing. Your response went unappreciated but was understandably deserved. She wet her lips to buy another second before spitting out another question, too quickly to be casual.

“You come with anyone?”

Your eyes glossed over with irritation, this being the first conversation Ellie had dragged you into after weeks of silence. Her question seemed like a placeholder for everything else she wanted to say, though it came out too bluntly. The people you’d been distracting yourself with blurred into the background now that Ellie was here, her nerves showing with every crack in her composure.

“Nope,” you snipped. “You?”

“Nope,” she replied, exaggeratedly popping her lips at the ‘p’ sound. It sounded forced, like she was trying to make herself sound more confident than she felt.

Ellie shifted her weight onto one hip, her gaze raking a slow once-over of your form. Pretending she didn’t already have your every dip and curve memorized. Your eyes flicked across the room, grasping for any excuse to escape this friction, but naturally, the friends who had dragged you out tonight were suddenly nowhere to be found.

"Didn't know you were the type to move on so fast, getting cozy with a few girls over there..." Ellie remarked, her voice hung with bitterness, not even trying to hide her hurt there.

Your jaw clenched, miffed by the implication behind her words. "Dudn't know you were the type to care. Or even notice..."

“Pfft. I don’t. Just funny watching you act like you’re over it,” Ellie replied, trying to play it cool, but her voice cracked, betraying her defensiveness.

You narrowed your eyes. “That right?”

Ellie shrugged, drawing another lazy sip from her glass. “Yeah. s’cute, really. Watching you pretend.”

Your blood boiled at the way she said it, like she wasn’t just as much of a wreck as you. Like she hadn’t been staring at you all night.

“Ellie, you’re not cool enough to act like this-“ you rip into her with a sneer. You never pictured you’d speak to each other in such a way, but harshness felt like the only language you shared left, especially in tandem with her own cruel barbs.

Ellie’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek, a tell she’d never grown out of. The callout cut deep, knowing you still saw right through her. Ellie’s fingers started to tap the length of the glass, keeping a rhythm to compensate for the fidgeting she often did when nervous. Another tell she couldn’t hide.

“Yeah, okay,” her voice wavered, but then she turned her attention to finishing her glass swiftly, struggling to cling to that false bravado that was irking you past your breaking point.

“Ellie—” you spat her name venomously, shielding your sadness with anger. “If you have something you want to say, we can go somewhere else.”

Ellie’s cheeks roseated, the weight of you threatening her to put her money where her mouth is sinking in. The liquor had clearly obscured her foresight into the risks of confronting you so impudently.

Not letting Ellie another chance to deflect, you grabbed a fistful of her onyx-colored shirt sleeve and tugged her from the foggy crowd to an isolated corner, into a dark hallway, finally ducking into a cramped, dingy storage room long left unfinished. You shut the door. no working lock. Just great.

In the time you had fiddled with the old, janky handle, Ellie had already slipped back into the jaded facade she wore at the start of your encounter. The awkward, needy girl was buried deep, but not deep enough. The blush on her cheeks, the stutter in her words, the way her breath hitched when you got too close—proof enough she wasn’t as composed as she wanted you to think.

You just had to figure out how to crack her open.

Stepping closer, you caught that false smirk creeping back onto her lips. You wanted to smack that cheshire grin off her face, but the fragility you could see in her eyes—despite her best efforts to conceal it—only fueled your fire.

“You’re so goddamn frustrating,” you snap, voice raw with irritation. “Thought maybe for once you could talk to me like a normal person-or, imagine, like the girl you claimed to love-”

Ellie swallowed thickly as you came closer with every word. Hell, she looked so good, even in this state. The scent of alcohol on her breath, the sliver of skin peeking through the buttons of her top, the closeness of her rouge lips—it was causing the last of your composure to slip. Your heart raced as the room seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you.

If words weren’t enough, maybe a more physical approach would crumble her defenses.

In that moment, a sly grin spread across your face. Time for a bit of mischief.

Nearly chest-to-chest, breaths merging together, you reach up and begin toying with the hem of Ellie’s cotton shirt, and descend to the gleaming buttons on her jeans. Right as you make contact, you hear her hiss out a sharp breath, the derisive edge in her voice sends a chill down your spine.

“Missed me that much, huh? You were always so impatient.” She clicks her tongue. But you knew Ellie, you knew this was all a “tough-guy” act. She was not going to let you get under her skin so easily, not without a fight.

The chuckle that passes your lips is a scornful sound, her ears perk up in curiosity as to what you're planning.

After a moment of wrestling with the skin-tight denim—she's free. Ellie takes the liberty to pull her shirt up a touch, and the mere sight of her dark, wisplike happy trail leaves your mouth watering. Your eyes flicker up to hers; keenly, expectantly scanning her delicate features.

Most unfortunately, Ellie returns nothing worth celebrating, her facade still clambering to stay mighty. Just observing, cool fern eyes low—almost kubrick-esque—everything still under control. For now.

You continue undressing her, undoing her shirt and exposing her pale torso. Fuck, what a specimen. Eggshell and cinnamon skin, soft and supple as far as the eye can see. The thin fabric clings to her shoulders, and you push it aside to look upon her chest.

Luckily for you, she doesn't believe in bras, letting her dusty pinkish nipples harden when the air grazes her skin. Ellie lets out the quietest sigh, almost inaudible, but you still catch it and throw her a smirk. Her eyes roll, she's still acting unimpressed.

“Keep going then,” she drawls.

You ghost your mouth over her skin, before taking her nipple in between your lips and sucking. You snake your tongue over the bud and gently pinch the other one with two fingers. Still determined to break her, you look up again. She makes no noise, just tilts her head back until it hits the wall supporting her with a dull thud. You had to do more, you needed to.

Moving to press hot kisses in the valley of her chest, you drag your mouth lower, lower, and lower, until you end up on your knees with her still-clothed crotch an inch from the tip of your nose. With her help, her jeans are discarded into a heap to your right. The tight boxer shorts she was wearing hugged her lean thighs in such a way, you couldn't resist lurching forward and sinking your teeth into the flesh.

Above, you hear something resembling a startled gasp—there you go, the beginning of the end.

Making quick work of her undergarment, Ellie leans against the wall, bare before you. You look up once more at her, but in the perfect moment in time to spot a scarlet flush spread from her chest, up her neck, and decorate her cheeks. There's a crease forming in her forehead as well. You spot her hip tattoos, the ink was striking. Running your tongue along the linework, you taste her skin—salty-sweet.

Simultaneously, you drag your hands up and down the sides of her legs, feeling goosebumps rise as you pass over. Her breaths quickly go shaky, her primal need for your mouth on the crescendo of her thighs overtaking her. Slowly but surely, you were achieving your goal.

“God Els, you're so wet. Seems like you missed me more, hmm?” You titter, voice smooth as syrup, to which she grunts almost in annoyance, neither confirming or denying your tease.

“Sure you weren't so desperate, you came here just for me? Because you wanted to get eaten like a slut?” You hear her exhale shake. Your degrading words—like clouds of miasma—infected her entirely, she didn't know whether to be embarrassed or even more turned on.

Fucking finally, your tongue parts her folds; silken and dripping for you. Smoothly moving forward in and pushing her thighs apart, you take more of her into your mouth. The taste of her arousal makes your head spin, and you don't even register the fact you're lightly moaning into her core already. You missed this. You missed her. You missed the feel of her hot skin, her signature Ellie attitude, her sweetness and how she reacted to your touch—even more than you'd like to admit.

Your eyes close instinctively, and you lick a stripe from her needy hole up to her puffy clit, feeling the bud twitch on your tongue. You wrap your lips around it, and she almost wails. Although Ellie, as clever as she is stubborn, stifles her whines with a clenched fist. When you hear the cut-off cry, your gaze snaps upward. she's biting down on her own flesh, hard, her teeth causing the knuckles to discolor. The blush on her cheeks is approaching maroon, obscuring her freckles, and her eyes are screwed shut. She can't hide the tremors or the panting breaths, though.

You keep devouring her, getting more and more drunk the longer her essence invigorates your senses. She pleads for you some more, albeit impolitely, “Hurry- ah—harder, more…”

Your grip on her hips intensifies, nails leaving marks right next to her tattoos, adding to the artistry already there. She begins to whimper, the small, pathetic sounds of an impending defeat causing heat to spread in your own abdomen.

You tongue fuck her into oblivion, pushing the muscle inside her until you feel her walls pulsing around you. Your nose bumps at her clit, eliciting high pitched pleas from her.

At a glance again, you see there's nothing hiding her mouth, and the hand that was aiding her has moved to join her other one—bracing against the wall. You had Ellie utterly wrecked.

She teeters, rickety legs trembling and struggling to hold her upright. A gush of slick runs down your chin, and she squeals. Unable to hold back any longer, she starts begging you to cum.

Her voice is strained, wobbly. “Please, fuck-!! Ah…c'mon…come onnn.”

Music to your ears.

Smiling against her thumping clit, you continue to suck until her rhythmic pants are all you can hear. The climbing volume was more satisfying than you could have ever envisioned and you never wanted to let up.

“Ah, ah, ah— m'so close, pleasepleaseplease.” She pleads with vehemence, damn near calling on divinity to finish. It was ironic really, there was nothing holy about this.

Her pussy seizes and her body tenses before she's hit with the most forceful orgasm she's ever felt. Silent moans choking in her throat, you messily lap at her folds until you feel the flutter, and hear the most beautiful cry of pleasure.

She's loud, unabashedly so, the pornographic nature of the scenario before you making your face grow hotter than the sun. You lick up every drop of warm cum from her, savoring both the ambrosial taste of her, and the sight of her coming undone like this.

Low groans and mumbles transition to high-pitched squeaks, a telltale sign you were entering overwhelming territory. She's sniveling, all semblance of composure long gone. Babbled cries ring through the small space, all she can muster falling out of her, “Fuck, fuck, shit..okay, hahhh—”

You dont let up and fuck her through her high until she shakes above you, seemingly brought to tears by the sensation. You drag your tongue through her folds one last time, just for the hell of it, and to solidify all this in your memory, before kneeling back to examine what you made of her.

Her chest was steadily rising and falling, she was leaning against that solitary wall, legs quaking and about to give, completely out of it.

The blissed out look on her face was ethereal, she was still so pretty. Through everything, you'd always find your way back—lost in those springlike, agate-ringed greens.

You jump up to her level and yank her towards you by her—your—necklace, making her jolt and snap out of the post-orgasm euphoria. Roughly, you crash your lips onto hers. Ellie’s lips part to let your tongue in, and a guttural moan rips out of her when she tastes herself on you.

You gingerly pull away, trying to ignore the ache in your heart that blossoms when you notice her chasing your lips.

The pair of you are winded and still looking at each other with saucer-wide eyes, the intensity of what you did catching up to you as the bliss wore off. Automatically, you reach to hold her hand, but she pulls away and avoids your sympathetic stare. She looks up and down, side to side, pretending to be interested in the peeling wall behind her.

Seeing her uneasiness, you clear your throat. “Ellie, um…you okay?” Your voice is mellow and gentle, the complete opposite of what it sounded like earlier.

Ellie sighs and briskly nods, brushing any and all concern away. She meets your eyes, and you notice the vibrant green dulled once again—almost appearing gray, like wilted leaves amidst a drought.

Her expression was hard to read. Her cheeks are flushed and her skin is glossy, indicating physical satisfaction, but there was a certain longing there too. The way she fidgeted with her fingers, the way she pursed her lips ever so slightly—she misses you.

You absentmindedly begin to collect yourself, wiping the remnants of her from the lower half of your face, all while readjusting your shirt. You turn towards her, buttoning up Ellie's shirt and straightening the collar—you give her a meek smile when she lets you fix her up, both of you unsure of what to say. The air feels odd, not quite heavy, but cold. “Let's go back, play it cool.” You chuckle and attempt to crack a joke to lighten the awkward mood. Ellie simply huffs.

Accepting that it’s time to snap back to reality. You breathe in a sharp breath to compose and ground yourself. “I miss you, come back to me", was sitting just behind your teeth, but you steeled yourself and pushed those old feelings away.

It was too soon to unpack anything right now. Not to mention both of you still being drunk—in more ways than one.

Ellie starts, “We should leave separately, y'know, so no one suspects anything.”

“Oh for sure, yeah. Go- go, before everyone starts asking questions-“ you usher Ellie out with an instinctive hand pressed to her back, all but throwing her out of that cramped, now-suffocating space for the sake of avoiding becoming the town’s gossip. In Jackson, rumors tended to spread faster than a wildfire.

Ellie left, and you were all alone in the space. Your body's framework crumples weakly against a corner, overcome with emotion. You couldn't help but reminisce—silently lamenting for her in the dim, stuffy room.

But there was still a party going on, if you stayed in there any longer, it would become suspicious rather fast. You push thoughts of Ellie away into the abyss where you made sure the padlock was not planning on breaking. You threw the key away, but for good this time, you vowed to yourself.

Ellie had likely whisked herself away into the kitchen to get a light snack—you remembered that sex always made her hungry afterward.

You hear a familiar song start playing from the main room, something you could try to sway along to and you put on a faint smile—as genuine as you could muster, hoping to rejoin conversations as casually as you had left them. You slip out of the small storage space, closing the door behind you, hoping it’s not symbolic of where things stand with Ellie.

thanks for reading! tell us what you think <3

taglist: @vifilms @ch6douin @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @littlefallenangel111 @witchyblade @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @marsworlddd @mascdom @angelynn-nicole @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @imdrowningindespair @nightcityaliens @sevyscoven @culuvr @meow4510 @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @funclebunni @infiniteinquiries @mimasroom2 @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @autisticintr0vert @mellifluousgirl @uhhscarr @kaykeryyy @spncrrdlvr @thatgyalfisher @vahnilla @ally-all-around @viscupcakezz @ustakesis @lovelyy-moonlight @abbysunderwear @cheyisagirlkisser @i-dont-know-00

[s-4pphics]

cw; fratadjacent!ellie, mentions of prescription drugs and dealing, literally just for ‘23 tlou tumblr nostalgia 

attempt 747388282 of getting outta my block. barely edited bc i havent slept

How the hell do you introduce yourself to a dealer?

Initiating convos with a stranger with a hey, do you sell addies, seems a little rude for regular common folk, but do dealers actually care about introduction etiquette? Highly doubtful, but you despise assuming shit about people, much due to the fact that your brain has a deadly latching tendency, remembering everything it shouldn’t and forgetting everything you should remember. 

Dealers are driven by the dollar, aren’t they? Just like everyone else. Show the money, get the candy… or something? You doubt Mel would put you in harm's way. 

You came to your roommate in the middle of a breakdown: self-soothed through a panic attack with snot dripping down your nose and thoughts scattered like they always are. Always. Your brain never listens to reason and it’s torture. She held you while you cried and cursed the medical industry, all while your brain shattered to pieces, attempting to find solace in Mel’s softened whisper. 

I have this friend…

And of course, your brain never forgets. Your prescription is forever to blame for your shortcomings. Every unfinished essay, failed test, failed class — mindless scrolling — it’s all due to your lack of… candy. Brain candy. It’s fucked up how terribly you need it to get through school. If you don’t pop one at six in the morning everyday, every plan you make goes down the drain and into the sewers. 

Pharmacies are supposed to always have their shit together. Customers come in, grab their beans, and they dip for a month before doing it all over again. Visits are dandy until they aren’t, apparently. Out of all people, why did they have to fuck up yours? A year of going to the same location with the same pharmacist and they suddenly misplace the only jewels that keep your head on your neck. 

Sure, you could sue or commit arson to that entire building, but you decided spending the last bit of your free time bribing the go-to drug lord of campus would be much more beneficial. And less… endangering. 

Mel is close with drug dealers — a surprising fact to discover about your soft-toned friend. Ellie Williams is one of them, and she’s expecting your arrival, according to Mel. The texts between you and this faceless stranger were brief, aloof — quite business-like despite the topic of conversation. You only hear about her from the sidelines or your roommate, and everyone seems to have a consensus opinion. 

Evidently, she fucking sucks. And fucks. Literally and figuratively. Good for her? You don’t give a shit. She agreed to give you a month's supply of Dextro for fifteen bucks. Fuck the gossip and the pharmacy. 

That gets you knocking. It takes fourteen seconds for the door to open, and you're instantly hit with the wall of Mary. Jane, in particular, and she’s covered in red lights. 

The testy drug head doesn’t fit everybody’s description; her face is almost too sweet for her body. She’s literally wearing Spiderman PJs. What kinda dealer has freckles and rosy cheeks? Her eyes remind you of a deer’s despite the pink tint. Can deers even get high? 

One of the first things Ellie does is take in your Patrick Star slippers. Her grin is slight as she eyes them. 

“Huh.”

“… Hey.” 

“Hello.” 

You hate silence more than anything in the world. It’s so fucking awkward in this hallway. 

“Name?” 

… Maybe intros are necessary? “Oh. Uh. I’m Mel’s friend. I’m guessing y’all know each other? I’m—“

The a-ha she makes is very innocuous. This is the beast everyone always talks about? “My dex pickup, right?” 

You jokingly shrug, “in the flesh.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“You… you, too.” 

It’s silent again. Being shot in the face would be less painful than standing here. 

Soon, but not nearly enough, Ellie digs into her pocket to retrieve a very familiar looking orange bottle. It almost looks like yours minus the white sticker with your name and dosage. Just plain orange. And filled a hefty amount. A little over halfway. 

“Uh,” you stumble around in your jean pocket like an idiot. When you come up empty handed, you dig around in your back pocket. Then your other front, then your other back. 

Where the fuck is your twenty? 

“Uh… um…”

You check your bra and your shoulder bag and your sock, all while Ellie stares at you like you’re a walrus on stilts. 

“I’m… I dunno where my…” 

“Short?”

Flames burst beneath your cheeks. Too fucking short. If you were in a mafia film, you’d be strung up in front of Ellie’s door as a warning for loose pocketers. 

But Ellie’s not in the fucking mafia. She looks like she’s about to laugh. Before you can drown her in apologies, she hands you the clattering jar. 

“… Wh—“

“No offense, but… I think you needa fill.” 

This has to be a test. Ellie’s going to slice your hand clean off your wrist when you reach for your vice… Your prescription, you mean. Not vice—

“You want ‘em or not?” 

Impatient as fuck — very on brand. Just as your palm eagerly closes around the bottle, a shock of electricity pops from Ellie’s hand to yours. She flinches but you don’t. The horrifying screams from the little fuckers in your hand are too distracting. 

“Do I owe you?” 

She ponders for a second. Eyes you with curiosity. Snickers down at your slippers. 

“It’s cool. Just tell me if they work.” 

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Do I really have to explain the hierarchy to you?” 

“What do you think?” 

Ellie pins you with a playful glare, “I bought from someone new.” 

That doesn’t mean shit to you, so why are you attempting to make conversation? “Is that why you stocked me up?” 

“Sure.” 

“Are they laced?” 

She shrugs, “maybe.” 

That should induce fear… It never comes. You anticipate focusing too much to care. If you die, you die. 

This convo fucking sucks. And now it’s quiet because how the fuck are you supposed to respond to you potentially OD-ing? Your brain’s cranking but, just like every other time, you come up empty handed. 

“You can go now.” 

You try not to be bothered by her dismissing you. You shouldn’t be bothered by anything — she did you a favor. Ellie must really like your fucking slippers. She’s spoken to Patrick more than you this entire time. 

“… Thanks.” 

“No sweat. Get home safe.” 

Her door closes. Your chest opens. You convince yourself it’s with gratitude, and not at all due to the weird attraction you felt for that drugged-out freakazoid. 

[elstattoo]

MEN DNI, MINORS DNI

“𝑺𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑰𝒕 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅”

WC: 780

Content: 18+, dom! ellie, sub/switch! reader, face fucking, strap usage, masturbation, degradation, use of the word slut

Author’s Note: Another drabble…. Ellie Williams I want you. So bad.

“Yeah, use that pretty mouth of yours,” Ellie groaned, hand tightly fisting your hair. Her grip never loosened on the strands, if anything it got tighter.

You stared at her from in between her legs, cheeks pink from the obscenity of the situation, your tongue lolling out to smother the plastic dildo in your saliva. Ellie watched as you did this, her stomach rippling with desire, her pussy tightening around the strapless strap-on buried within her, doing very little to prevent the wetness spilling out, messily down her legs.

The wetness was from not only your spit, but the precum leaking from her hole. You bit back every desire to just suck her puffy, glistening clit hidden behind the strap. You preferred her pussy over this any day, but Ellie practically had been begging you to do this for months… And you finally gave in.

Since she wanted to see this so bad, you’d give her a show. One hell of a show. You opened your mouth, taking little by little into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. Your eyes never left Ellie’s, she bit her bottom lip almost enough to draw blood. Her fingers tightened slightly in your hair, you moaned around the silicone.

The vibrations sent a chill up Ellie’s spine, she squinted her eyes shut. Both her hands falling from your hair to your cheeks, you paused upon the contact, lips still wrapped around the toy. Your own hand was gripping one of her legs for stability, the other shoved down into your panties playing with yourself.

Ellie felt herself dampen even more at that, she sighed contently before speaking. “Can I fuck this mouth, baby? What do you think?”

You hummed in agreement, mouth still stuffed, your knees pressing into the pillow previously placed — for this exact reason. Ellie shook her head, pulling your lips off it for a second. “No, I need words. Gotta hear you say it for me, ‘kay?”

Your lips were wet from your own spit, you sat there momentarily thinking over the idea, which spiked something within you. “Yes, I want you to fuck my mouth. Do whatever you want, Ellie. Use me.”

Ellie felt your hand tighten on her leg, nails digging into the flesh, enough to leave indents. She hissed, the pain easing quickly into her already built up desire for you. “You’re so good for me, baby. Always put that mouth to good use, huh?”

You licked your lips, then opened your mouth for the toy — signaling to her you were ready. Ellie quickly moved your head closer to the strap, your lips enveloped what length you could, before Ellie pulled it back out and roughly back in.

As she continued to fuck your mouth, gagging sounds could be heard from you, muffled over the strap. You continued playing with yourself, fingers quickly rubbing against your clit, desperate for friction.

Your jaw ached, but nonetheless you felt soaked from how hot it felt to be used like this — like a toy. Ellie gripped your cheeks tighter, moving her hips to fuck your mouth. She internally was rejoicing, finally fulfilling her fantasy, finding it way better than her imagination. The gagging sounds she pulled from your lips was music to her ears, and so were your muffled moans at the hilt of her strap.

The same strap that was pushed into her from the other end, filling her weeping hole — begging to be filled by your fingers or tongue. Ellie wished she could feel your lips, body twitching at the very thought. But she couldn’t help but savor this, not knowing if you’d do this again anytime soon.

Ellie smirked, finding your noises pleasing. “Yeah, you fucking suck my dick so good… I love this fucking mouth of yours. Such a slut with how you’re still playing with yourself.”

Your fingers sped up hearing those words slip off her tongue, fingers never stilling their movement. You moaned against the strap, loving how it felt and how her words made you feel. Your pussy gushed, your own wet pussy growing wetter.

Spit was gathered down your chin, even somehow on your cheeks. Ellie rocked the strap in and out of your mouth a few more times, then pulled it fully off your lips with a pop. She looked down at you on your knees, face messy with saliva, and chest rising and falling as you caught your breath. Breathing through your nose only did so much, and Ellie just ate up the sight of you.

Her right hand softly reached to cup your cheek, thumb running along the surface of your skin. “God, you look good like this.”

[l-0-vl-3-y]

why tf are all the ellie / abby fics either about them being mad abusive or reader that acts like a fucking baby..

[abbyslvrrr]

dark!ellie who beats the shit out of you once she finds out you’ve been touching yourself without her

Shades of cool dark!ellie Williams x fem!reader

Hope you enjoy this bby 🫶🏻 (it’s kinda ass)

Cw: dark!ellie. Abuse (slapping, kicking you in the stomach. Hair pulling) name calling (calls r! Whore once)

She’d been gone for a couple of hours now, surely she wouldn’t be home anytime soon, right? You were bored and horny as fuck, since you’d been here with Ellie since she kidnapped you a couple of months back, she laid out some ground rules.

keep your stuff tidy and neat.

Don’t attempt to escape

Do not touch yourself without her.

Ellie was particular about that specific rule; she was kind of a control freak. The girl can’t have you touching yourself. You were so busy trying to reach your peak in bed you never heard the door open and Ellie’s footsteps in the hall, you only noticed when she cleared her throat. Fuck.

“E-Ellie I—I wasn’t—“ Before you could explain yourself or anything, she grabbed a hold of your hair and yanked you off the bed, your hands wrapping around her wrist, trying to get her off. Ellie, being much stronger than you, doesn’t budge, throwing you across the room. You’re now whimpering in pain. The brunette crouches in front of you and grabs your cheeks, squeezing them together. Letting out a small whimper, you try to pry her hand off, but again she doesn’t budge.

“I come home from a long-ass day, and this is what I find? You touching yourself without me? Are you that desperate, whore?” Before you can process anything, she slaps your cheek very hard and then the other. Begging and pleading did not help, her shoe-clad foot connected with your stomach. She continues her abuse on you until she's had enough.

You’re a crying mess right now, she picked you up and got into bed. She’s leaning against the headboard, and you’re against her chest, where you are shaking and apologizing profusely.

“E-Ellie I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to be bad.” Clinging onto her shirt like she was your lifeline, Ellie places soft kisses on your head and shushes you. Eventually you calm down and fall asleep in her arms. Ellie looks down at your face and sees a couple of bruises forming, and she’s the one on your stomach too. She feels bad, but part of her fucked-up brain finds you beautiful.

You were her perfect doll after all.

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE • BOYCOTT TLOU

ꫂ ၴႅၴ — 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒕!𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆

a vague continuation of this, but you don’t have to read it to understand this one

song: vicino a te — stevio cipriani

summary: after your first, brief encounter, ellie sends you a letter — with this sweet, foreign feeling blossoming in her chest, she’s too nervous to say anything in person.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fluff, letter format, ellie’s pov, yearning, kinda love at first sight, mentions of (greek) mythology, religious imagery, probably ooc, flowery language, not proofread

a/n: i should be writing other, bigger projects but i love letter writing so much, they’re the purest form of love

Dear moonlit one,

How terribly confused you must be by this letter; I am sorry for it in advance.

Perhaps it might have been more appropriate to visit you, to speak more than a few pleasantries before scampering off into the night, but, as you may have noticed… well, I have no talent for speaking.

How ironic that seems coming from a poet! Words are my profession, perhaps even my religion. I suppose, however, I can only wield them with ink and not with my lips. I have always been this way; a penchant for the quill in preference to conversation.

That is why I write to you. I can be honest here, without my nerves getting the better of me.

I want to express my deepest apologies for my insolence on that revelrous eve. Rushing off without so much as a goodbye in spite of your good nature was unkind of me, and there is no justification for it. Even so, I must explain myself;

Excuse my cynicism and my continuous irony, but I have never believed in a fairytale love. I have an apt appreciation for the picturesque and I feel deeply about many-a-thing; these qualities have made me an adequate enough poet, for I can replicate the beauty of the world that surrounds me. I can structure stanza upon stanza inspired by a scent or a face. I am an observer, therefore I have endured.

But a love that strikes as abruptly as a serpent unsheathes its fangs? A love that robs the lungs of air and renders one’s body feather-light? All because of a glance, a smile, a laugh— of course I was skeptical. How could one not be?

But it was not until I saw you on that argent night, dreamy and gentle, that I could at least come to an understanding. You appeared like the goddess Selene, so very luminous that no words could form in my useless mouth. What was I to say, in that moment? What words spoken could have done justice to the divinity before me?

And your laugh, oh, that laugh… it was as if the sound of your voice was laced with the very harps of heaven. I have not been able to listen to another’s joy without missing the beauty of yours. How foolish I am.

Why do I ramble in such a way? What I mean to say is that your mere existence has awoken me to the pearl ensconced within the centre of our lives. A precious and delicate thing that hit me, unabated. That is why I left you in such a hurry. I was enchanted, and I was afraid of it. In that moment, I was afraid of you, too. The power you held over me was seizing.

But I have gained my bearings. Of course, I cannot say that I love you, a stranger. I know near-nothing about you, and yet, in these sleep-laced hours before dawn, I wish I knew everything.

Sealed within this envelope are dried apple blossoms, birthed from a late-blooming tree. The little buds make the paper smell fragrant, but they also reminded me of our fleeting encounter. And of you; sweet and vibrant. Cheerful, even towards a person you had never spoken to. I hope they soften the suddenness of my letter.

In earnesty, I pray that you write back to me. Even if it is just to reprimand my audacious behaviour, that would be enough.

With sincerity,

E. Williams

[valeisaslut]

OKAY SO HI YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO I AM BUT I HAVE TO DO ANON SO I DONT GET LIKE MAULED BY MY COUSIN WHO FOLLOWS ME. Okay so imagine Ellie masturbating while you’re away on like a trip or wtv, my girlfriend would be GOING AT IT

⭒࿐ Midnight call - drabble

word count: 1.3k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

content warnings: smut w no plot, phone sex, masturbation, needy!ellie, cursing, pet names, afab! reader, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

────────────

It’s late when your phone buzzes against the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dark hotel room. You blink against the dim light, groggy, barely processing the name flashing across the screen.

Ells <3

You sigh, turn on the lamp, and rub your eyes before answering her facetime.

“Hey, babe..” Ellie breathes, and even through the shitty wifi, her voice is unmistakably rough, laced with something dark and lazy.

“Heyy” you murmur softly, voice thick with sleep.

“Sorry to wake you up”

Your brows furrow, pushing yourself up against the pillows. “It’s, like… stupid late. You good?”

Ellie hums, shifting. The image on the screen is grainy, but you can still make out the way she’s lying back, head tilted against her pillow, hair tousled like she’s been running her hands through it.

“I just… miss you” she mutters, voice quieter now, almost sheepish.

Your heart clenches. “Ellie—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she adds, cutting you off, her smirk lazy but her eyes dark, hooded. The camera shifts slightly as she moves, and that’s when you notice—her tank top hangs loose off her shoulder, her lips part just slightly, her breath is uneven.

Oh.

It clicks all at once. The late-night facetime, the way her voice sounds, the way her fingers twitch against the sheets. She’s not just thinking about you. She’s been touching herself thinking about you.

“You’re unbelievable...” you murmur, leaning back against the headboard, biting your lip. But even as you say it, you can feel it—heat curling low in your stomach.

And God, if you’re being honest, you need her just as bad.

Ellie chuckles, dragging a hand through her hair, looking at you through the screen like she can feel the way your breath hitches. Her free hand disappears off-screen for a moment, and when she moves again, you hear the faintest rustle of sheets.

“Couldn't do it without seeing your pretty face and listening to your voice” she whispers "Need you so bad..."

You swallow, hard “Mhm? How bad?” you whisper and it comes out more breathless than you intend.

Ellie exhales sharply and shifts, the movement making the camera shake slightly. You catch the way her fingers flex against her thigh, the way she drags her teeth over her bottom lip like she’s physically holding herself back.

“Bad enough that I called you at 4 am” she breathes, watching your reaction closely. “So… you gonna help me with that, babe?”

Your breath catches.

"Ellie..." you murmur, shifting against the sheets, suddenly too aware of the way your skin feels against them, the way your body reacts and how the room feels warmer now.

“What?” she teases, voice dripping with amusement before a little gasp slips from her lips.

"You touching yourself?" you murmur, voice even more breathless now.

Ellie shifts, angling the camera just enough for you to see the way her hand is moving beneath the sheets, how her legs open, how her thighs tense. “Mhm,” she hums, lashes fluttering. “Been thinking about you all night. Couldn’t help it.”

The heat between your legs pulses even harder.

Your own fingers trail unconsciously along your body, teasing, mirroring the way Ellie moves. "Yeah?"

Ellie bites her lip, nodding, eyes locked onto you through the screen. She breathes heavily, tilting her head against the pillow. "Wish it was your hands on me instead. Wish you were here.”

The way she says it—soft, breathy, drenched in need—makes your core ache even more. Your breath stutters, fingers finally pressing against your clit in slow, teasing circles. The slick glide makes you whimper, and it's embarrassing how wet you are just from the sound of her voice.

“What would you do if I was?” you ask, voice dripping with something you’re too far gone to name.

Ellie groans, eyes fluttering shut for just a second before she looks at you again. "Wouldn’t let you sleep, that’s for sure..." she murmurs, her smirk turning wicked.

The sight of her flushed, needy and desperate for you is almost too much.

"Fuck, Ellie...I need you..." you gasp, fingers going faster.

Ellie breathes, watching your expressions closely. "Yeah? Show me how much."

Your breath catches, fingers tightening around your phone. The weight of her words, the heat in her eyes—it sends a shiver down your spine.

Ellie tilts her phone again, and you to catch the way her chest rises and falls, the outline of her hand moving slow, teasing herself—teasing you.

“C’mon, babe...please” she murmurs, voice rough, coaxing. “Let me see you.”

You don't even hesitate before propping your phone against the pillows, angling it just right to give her a perfect view. The cool air of the room raises goosebumps on your skin as you push your sleep shorts down.

The screen captures everything—your glistening pussy, the way your thighs tremble, the lust in your gaze as you meet Ellie’s eyes through the camera.

Ellie gasps sharply, her hand stilling for a moment. “Fuckkk” she breathes. “That’s it.”

Your fingers ghost over yourself, a soft sigh slipping from your lips as you watch her, the way her brows pinch together, pupils dark and heavy with need.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous...” Ellie mutters, her own movements resuming, her voice shaky. “God, I miss touching you.”

Your body reacts instantly, like it always does with her. The way she’s watching you, like she’d devour you through the screen if she could, makes your stomach tighten. A slow, shaky breath leaves your lips as your fingers trail lower, dipping into the slick heat between your thighs.

Ellie watches, completely transfixed. Her own hand moving faster, her breath stuttering.

When you finally push two fingers inside yourself, the stretch is delicious, your walls clenching as a soft sound spills from your lips—half a gasp, half Ellie’s name. Her screen flickers as she shakes, faint, sticky sounds filtering through the speaker.

Ellie groans, her head tilting back against her pillows. “Jesus Christ” she whispers, voice thick, wrecked. “You’re so fucking wet f'me.”

A soft whimper escapes you at that, and Ellie notices. Of course she does.

“Yeah?” she rasps, eyes locked onto yours. “That feels good, baby?”

"Mhmm" You hum, unable to form words, your head lolling to the side. Your breath stutters as your fingers move in and out faster, and you catch the way Ellie's hand moves in sync with yours.

“I need to hear you, love”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you let out a loud, breathy moan. Ellie groans at that, her whole body tensing.

“Shit—” Her voice is strained, her pace picking up, her movements more desperate now. “Good girl, just like that.”

You keep going. You let the pleasure build, let your movements get faster, matching her pace. The sound of her breathy gasps, the quiet curses slipping from her lips—it’s enough to send you teetering right on the edge.

Ellie’s eyes lock onto you, her voice rough and urgent. “Come for me.”

It’s not a request.

And fuck—your body listens.

Pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, a cry of her name slipping from your lips as you ride it out, fingers faltering as you soak the sheets. Through the haze, you hear Ellie groan, her own release chasing yours, her body shuddering as she lets go.

Silence settles between you as you both come down from the high, save for the sound of heavy breathing.

Ellie’s eyes are still on you, but now they are softer. A lazy, satisfied smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Next time” she murmurs, voice hoarse “I’m making you fall apart on my tongue.”

You exhale a shaky laugh, chest still rising and falling. “Next time” you agree, your voice just as wrecked.

And with the way Ellie’s looking at you, like she’s already counting down the minutes until she has you in her hands again

You know she means every word.

────────────

taglist (tysm for supporting, hope you enjoy <333): @st0nerlesb0 @willurms @vahnilla @mancyw1214 @rxreaqia @laceyxrenee @antobooh @tittielover-420 @annoyingpersonxoxo @haithone @lofied @sunflowerwinds @xojunebugxo @reidairie @piscesthepoet @elliewilliamskisser2000 @pariiissssssss @mxquelo

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ LMAOO i love this anon so much yall don't have an ideaa, they are wonderful <3. Ik it was only Ellie masturbating, but i tought that phone sex would be even HOTTER. Reqs are ALWAYS open, so if anyone wants me to write sm, i will be happy to receive more! Can’t wait to see what else yall throw my way. <333

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

[elliesbabygirl]

GOLDEN RULE [E.W]

synopsis: In which you meet ellie at a coffee shop, or in true order, Jesse messes up your order and ellie comps your drink while flirting with you, from behind the counter.

Warnings: no warnings! unless you're not into intended-lowercase from a lazy author.

–cutesy flirting and ellie being perfect.... (I love her)

Author's note: This is a sfw one-shot but my account is 18+ and therefore would like minors to not interact with this post or my blog in general.

- Petal & Pines Co. Coffee

The soft humming of espresso machines fill the air, blending into the quiet chatter of early customers. The energy of the coffee shop energizing you as the cashier calls for the next person in line.

"Can i get a medium vanilla latte, two extra shots of espresso and almond milk?" The barista's half-paying attention to you as he talks to his coworker down the prep line.

"Yeah, sure thing. Vanilla latte, extra shots and almond milk...got it." The barista, Jesse, presses a few buttons on the ipad register, fumbling with your cup as he turns around to make your vanilla latte.

Jesse's movements are sloppy as he rushes. Tossing the almond milk to the side as he grabs the regular milk instead and starts pouring.

"I asked for almond milk?" You didn't want to get a stomach ache by drinking regular milk. Jesse's mouth forms an 'oh' as he turns back to you. Replacing the cow milk for almond milk. spilling some in the process, before wiping it up with a nearby rag.

you watch as Jesse starts pouring the espresso, but the machine starts sputtering, letting out a loud, angry noise. The high-pitched whine cutting through the atmosphere as Jesse flinches .

"i got this Jesse, go take your break man — what can I get you?" An auburn haired girl with freckles looks at you, effortlessly shifting into the space behind the counter while flashing you a smile.

"she got uh–a vanilla latte with almond milk and two extra shots of espresso!!" She nods at Jesse's words, muttering 'vanilla latte' as she grabs a to-go up.

"what's your name?–I'm ellie!" Like it was muscle memory, Ellie pulls for the fresh shots of espresso. A smile on your face from her charisma, giving her your name and watching as she repeats it, like she was trying to remember it.

"Y/n? cute...I love it" Ellie says, steaming the almond milk in the pitcher as she keeps eye contact with you. Taking in your appearance, biting the corner of her bottom lip like she was in deep-thought.

"Have you been here before?– I've never seen you before today" She asks, pouring the two shots of espresso into the to-go cup.

"No yeah- it's my first time here!"Ellie eyebrows shoot up at your words, a nervous smile creeping on her face as she looks down. Pouring the steamed almond milk into the cup, watching as the liquid turns into a satisfying light brown.

"Really?" She adds a lid, sliding the to-go cup across the counter. You expectantly look at Ellie, waiting for her to tell you the cost of your drink.

"oh..it's on the house, don't worry about it!" She says, shrugging her shoulders with a giddy smile. A rag in her hand as she wipes down the pickup counter.

"How is it? is it better than Jesse's?" Ellie beams at your approval when you take your first sip and give her a thumbs up. She plays with her fingers, thinking on whether she should ask you for your number or not. –Why not?

"you're really pretty–"

"can i get your–"

You both cut eachother off, staring at eachother with smiles that can only be described as awkward. Ellie awkwardly clears her throat, the nerves getting to her as she tries again.

"Can i get your number?– you're really pretty" Ellie asks again. Making you smile as you nod, grabbing the marker that Ellie fumbles with as she tries to rip off a piece of paper towel to act as paper.

A smile beaming across Ellie's face as she takes the paper towel piece from you. Looking down at it, reading your number with the drawn heart next to it.

xxx-702-xxxx –> y/n ❤︎

"Text me, yeah?" She nods ecstatically, watching you walk out the brewery and down the street from the large glass bay-window in front of the shop.

"she said yes....to me" Ellie whispers to herself from behind the counter.

"dude...you're actually hopless"

"shut up, jesse.."

"are you paying for her drink..?"

The vanilla latte was in fact NOT on the house. Ellie's wallet was now seven dollars shorter...

..

xxx-749-xxxx:

Hey, it's ellie from the brewery

© 𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ─ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.

[marscardigan]

family line, part vii

ellie williams x fem!reader

family line masterlist

summary: falling in love with ellie was easy. it was harder to hate her once you knew she was the one hunting your sister.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot of the last of us part ii. canon typical violence. no use of y/n.

The world felt distant.

Your body was heavy, your head throbbed, the steady pulse of pain syncing with the dull ringing in your ears. Every breath was shallow, slow, like your lungs had forgotten how to work properly.

It took effort just to open your eyes.

The theater’s dim lighting made everything look hazy. The room smelled like old wood, and dried blood.

Your sluggish gaze dragged to the figure sitting nearby. Ellie.

She was hunched over in a chair beside the couch, elbows on her knees, fingers threaded through her hair. The moment she saw you stir, she sat up straight, her breath catching.

"You’re awake," she whispered, like she didn’t quite believe it.

You didn’t respond.

She leaned forward slightly, like she wanted to move closer but didn’t know if she should. Her green eyes swept over you, scanning for any sign of pain.

"You—uh, you lost a lot of blood," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "But I stitched you up. I'm not as good as you, but—uhm, you should be okay."

Silence.

Ellie exhaled through her nose, rubbing the back of her neck. Her fingers were still stained red in places, dried and cracked against her skin.

"You need to eat."

She reached down, grabbing a can of food from the floor. When she opened it, the soft scrape of metal felt too loud in the quiet room.

She scooped up a small bite with a spoon and held it toward you.

Nothing.

Her hand hovered in the air, waiting.

"Come on," she tried again, her voice quieter. "Just a little."

You barely had the strength to shake your head, but you did. The smell made your stomach churn, and you could still taste the metallic flavour in your throat.

Ellie swallowed. She didn’t lower the spoon right away, like she was waiting for you to change your mind. But you didn't.

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back as she sat there, staring at the ceiling.

"We can’t stay here," she said finally, voice tight. "Tommy and Dina already left. It’s just us."

Still, you said nothing, your lower lip trembling as you remember Dina's bloodied face.

Ellie shifted in her seat, restless. You could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers flexed against her jeans. Like she was holding something back.

"You’re gonna have to talk to me at some point," she muttered, not looking at you.

Your throat felt tight. You kept your gaze locked on the floor as if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now.

"Right. Okay." She stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room before stopping at the doorway. For a moment, it seemed like she might leave. But she didn’t.

She just stood there, gripping the doorframe tightly.

"You saved my life," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just—I don’t get it. Why would you do that?"

You shut your eyes, and Ellie didn’t push for an answer.

She just let the silence hang between you, before finally turning away.

When the door clicked shut behind her, you exhaled shakily, curling in on yourself as the weight of everything pressed down all over again.

Hours passed, and even if neither of you slept, you were still weak, and Ellie was restless, moving like she was running out of time. You didn't seem to react to anything, your head numb as you looked at your shaking fingers.

"We need to leave." Her voice cut through the silence. You barely proceeded the information.

She was already grabbing supplies, checking weapons, shoving things into her bag like it was her last day on earth. Like she was expecting someone to come through that door and finish what the world had started.

You didn’t move, and her jaw clenched. "I know you can hear me."

Still, you said nothing.

A heavy exhale, and then she crouched in front of you, green eyes searching your face. "You’re in no shape to walk, but we don’t have a choice." A beat of silence. "Can you stand?"

You swallowed, your throat raw.

You should shake your head. You should say something.

But you did neither.

Ellie’s expression twisted. Maybe she was angry. Maybe she just didn’t know what to do with you.

"Okay." She nodded once, "then I’ll carry you."

You barely had time to react before she was crouching, looping one of your arms over her shoulder, and hoisting you up. Your legs nearly buckled the second your feet touched the floor, but Ellie held you up, her grip firm but careful.

She was warm. Too warm. She felt like safety, and you hated that.

Ellie sighed, shifting your weight against her. "Let’s go."

The first few hours were unbearable.

Every step sent bolts of pain through your body. Ellie stayed close, letting you lean against her when you needed to, never saying anything about how slow you were moving.

She should've left you behind. It would've been so much easier. But she didn’t.

It wasn’t until the sun was beginning to set that Ellie stopped.

"Okay, so, we’re taking a break."

She helped you lower yourself onto a fallen log, dropping her bag to the ground. You watched as she pulled out a can of food, a water bottle, and a few crumpled ration bars. She opened one and held it out to you.

You didn’t take it.

Ellie’s fingers twitched, her voice tense. "You need to eat."

Nothing.

"You haven’t said a single goddamn word since you woke up, and now you’re not even eating? What, are you trying to die?"

You didn’t flinch, didn’t react.

Ellie exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before crouching in front of you again. "Look. I know you’ve been through shit. I get it. But you need to eat something. Don't care if you don't even speak to me ever again, just want you to get better. Please."

Something in her voice made your chest ache.

She was trying, really hard. And you knew you weren't doing things easy for her, and she still hadn't left you.

You swallowed, your voice hoarse from not using it. "I’m not hungry."

Ellie froze. "Jesus. I was starting to think you fucking forgot how to talk."

You shifted uncomfortably.

She didn’t push you again. Just handed you the food and muttered, "Try." And so you did.

The sky was dark by the time you found the cabin.

It was small, tucked between the trees near a lake, long abandoned, but intact.

Ellie scouted ahead, checking for infected before calling you inside.

The second your legs gave out, she was there, easing you onto the old couch near the fireplace.

"We’ll stay here tonight," she murmured. "Maybe longer."

You didn’t argue. Ellie sighed, rubbing her face. "I’ll set up some traps outside. Get a fire going."

You barely heard her.

The theater was behind you. Abby was behind you. The scars, the wounds, the ghosts—they were all behind you.

But they still felt so close.

You curled into yourself on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around your legs as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. Muffled sniffles filled the quiet space, but then, you felt warmth. Two arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. When you didn't push her, she started pecking you small kisses on your back. You stopped crying moments later.

Abby’s breath was ragged by the time she reached the theater. She scanned the room, eyes darting from the old furniture to the bloodstained ground where she had left Ellie gasping for air.

Then, her gaze landed on it. Your Spider-Man comic.

It sat abandoned on a nearby chair, slightly bent at the corners, worn from the way you used to flip through it over and over again.

She swallowed, throat tight, as she reached for it with unsteady hands. The second she lifted the cover, something slipped out and fluttered to the ground.

A folded piece of paper.

Abby knew what it was before she even picked it up.

Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it, breath catching as her eyes scanned the words written in your familiar, messy handwriting.

Abby,

If you’re reading this, it means you came back, but I already left.

You don’t have to look after me anymore. You’re free now.

I will always be grateful for you; for your protection, your unconditional support, and the love you’ve given me for as long as I can remember. Thank you for shutting down my nightmares, for holding me until I stopped crying, for being my safe place when the world felt too cruel.

We’ve always been different—opposites, really. But no matter what, you’re my sister. You always will be. Our paths have been pulling us apart for a while now, and as much as it breaks my heart, I know we both have to move forward. You deserve to chase your dreams, your ambitions. And so do I.

Even if our lives take us in different directions, I know we’ll find each other again. One day, when we’re both okay.

I'm okay now. I’ll be okay. And I hope you will be too.

I love you so much.

—Bug

No. Abby’s vision blurred, the ink smudging as a single tear splashed onto the page. Then another. She sucked in a shaky breath, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly it crumpled in her grasp.

How could you say that? How could you accept this?

How could you be strong enough to walk away when she wasn’t?

She had spent her entire life making sure you were okay. She had promised to protect you, to keep you, and now… now, she was grasping at nothing.

The realization hit her in full force, a broken sob tore from her throat as her forehead was pressed against the crumpled letter as if it could somehow bring you back.

As her chest ached, she allowed herself to crumble.

The cabin smelled like pine and woodsmoke, warm and safe against the crisp autumn air outside. The morning light spilled through the window, catching the dust motes that floated lazily through the air. Outside, the lake stretched endlessly, its surface rippling with the gentle touch of the wind.

It was peaceful here. Safe.

And, for the first time in what felt like forever, home.

You stretched beneath the thick quilt, blinking against the golden sunlight as warmth pressed into your side. Ellie’s arm was draped over your waist, her breath soft against the nape of your neck. She always slept like this—like she was afraid you’d slip away if she didn’t hold you close.

You shifted slightly, feeling her stir behind you. A soft groan left her lips as she buried her face into your shoulder.

"Mm… too early," she muttered, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut again. "You say that every morning."

She hummed in response, pulling you impossibly closer. "And I’m always right."

You let yourself sink into the warmth of her, savoring the slow, quiet morning.

It hadn’t been easy to get here.

The first few weeks had been… rough. You barely spoke. Eating was a chore, sleep was filled with nightmares, and the weight of everything that had happened clung to you both like a second skin. But Ellie never pushed. She just stayed. Kept the fire going, made sure you ate at least something, and waited.

And then, one day, the silence cracked.

It was over something small. A comment about how she sucked at fishing. And then, a quiet laugh—your own. It had been a weak, broken thing, but Ellie had looked at you like you’d just given her the goddamn world.

And after that, things got easier.

Now, eight months later, you were here. In this tiny cabin by the lake, tangled up in Ellie’s arms like it was the only place you were ever meant to be.

You turned in her arms, facing her. Her hair was a mess, auburn locks sticking out in every direction, and her face was soft, relaxed in a way that made your heart ache. You reached up, brushing a few stray strands away from her freckled cheek.

Her eyes cracked open, sleepy and hazy, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. "S’not fair, waking me up just to stare at me."

You rolled your eyes. "You’re the one who came back to bed."

"Because it’s warm," she murmured, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. “And you’re here.”

Your chest ached in the best way. You knew it hadn't been easy for Ellie either. After all, you were Abby's sister, you shared blood with the one who ended Joel's life. And even if you didn't look alike, Ellie could sometimes see traces of Abby deep in your eyes. She tried to fight the image away, tell herself that it was you who was by her side, not her, but sometimes you do needed to give her some time. Because healing took time. And so did forgiveness.

You pressed a kiss to the top of her head, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the bare skin of her back. "You wanna go fishing today?" you asked.

Ellie groaned dramatically. "Ugh. Do we have to?"

"You need a shower, you kinda stink, baby."

That made her pause. Then, with a sigh, she nodded. You grinned, pressing another kiss against her hair before slipping out of bed.

Ellie groaned at the loss of warmth, but followed soon after, stretching her arms above her head before pulling on one of her flannels—yours, actually. She stole them all the time. But so did you.

The two of you fell into the rhythm of morning, moving around each other with practiced ease. Ellie stoked the fire while you grabbed your boots. She handed you a steaming mug of tea with a lopsided smile, and you swore it tasted better just because she made it.

The plan was simple: clean some clother by the lake, as Ellie tried to catch some fish. But, as always, Ellie had a way of turning even the most common tasks into something ridiculous.

You had just started washing some clothes in the metal basin outside when Ellie came up behind you, arms snaking around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. "You know, we could just let the rain wash our clothes," she mused.

You snorted. "That’s disgusting."

"Survival, baby."

You flicked some water at her, making her yelp and jump back. "Alright, now you’ve done it."

Before you could react, Ellie scooped up a handful of water and flung it at you, soaking the front of your shirt.

"Ellie!"

She cackled, dodging as you swiped at her. “Now you look good.”

"Oh, you’re so dead."

You abandoned the laundry entirely, lunging at her. She tried to escape, but you were quicker, tackling her to the ground. She groaned dramatically as she hit the dirt, laughing breathlessly as you pinned her down.

"I surrender, I surrender!" she wheezed between chuckles, her hands coming up in a weak defense.

You squinted at her, pretending to consider it. Then, leaning down, you pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose before rolling off of her with a satisfied hum.

Ellie blinked, momentarily stunned. "That’s so unfair."

You smirked. "Tough luck, babe."

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away.

The lake shimmered under the afternoon sun, gentle ripples distorting its glassy surface as Ellie stood knee-deep in the water, her makeshift fishing spear gripped tightly in her hands. She was focused, brows furrowed, every muscle tense as she waited for the perfect moment.

You sat on the shore, leaning back on your palms, watching her with a fond smile. Ellie took everything so seriously—even catching a couple of fish for dinner had turned into some epic hunt in her mind.

Then—quick as lightning—she lunged forward, the spear slicing through the water. A second later, she yanked it back, grinning triumphantly as a decent-sized fish flailed at the end of it.

"Would ya look at that!" she called, holding it up for you to see. "Told you I’m a pro now."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Baby, you literally missed the last four times."

"Yeah, but this time I didn’t," she shot back, wading back toward the shore. "Which makes me officially the greatest fisher in this whole damn lake."

You raised a brow. "I think the bears might have you beat."

Ellie plopped down next to you, dropping the fish into the bucket beside her before nudging your shoulder, pouting. "Shut up and be impressed."

You only hummed in response, your gaze drifting from her to your hand, where the silver band on your finger caught the sunlight.

The ring had been Ellie's discovery—something she’d found months ago while the two of you were scavenging through an old house. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple band, slightly worn, but the meaning it had was priceless.

She hadn’t even asked. Just got down on one knee right then and there, dirt on her jeans, a shit-eating grin on her face as she held it up to you.

'So,' she had said, 'you wanna be stuck with me forever or what?'

It was the easiest question you’d ever answered.

You twisted the ring absentmindedly, smiling softly.

Ellie noticed. "Whatcha lookin’ at?"

You lifted your hand, showing her the ring proudly.

Ellie’s lips quirked up. "Admiring my excellent taste?"

"Just thinking," you murmured, scooting closer, "that technically, I’m Mrs. Williams now."

Ellie blinked, her smirk faltering for half a second before her entire face lit up. "Holy shit."

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You just called yourself Mrs. Williams," she said, her voice laced with pure delight.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. "Well… yeah. That is what happens when you get married."

Ellie practically tackled you, sending you both tumbling onto the grass as she hovered over you, her hands on either side of your face. "Say it again."

You snorted. "Ellie—"

"Say it again."

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it before whispering, "Mrs. Williams."

Ellie groaned dramatically, dropping her forehead against yours. "God, I love you."

You giggled, running your fingers through her damp hair. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

She pulled back just enough to look at you, green eyes soft and full of something that made your chest ache in the best way. "You are really stuck with me now," she murmured.

You brushed your nose against hers. "Wouldn’t want it any other way."

Ellie grinned before capturing your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet, the kind that made the rest of the world disappear.

Back inside, your wife stood at the small kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up as she attempted to prepare lunch.

"Told you I can cook," she said, carefully chopping up some carrots with a look of pure concentration plastered in her face.

You leaned against the doorway, watching with amused skepticism. "You burnt canned soup last week."

"That was one time."

You snorted but let her continue, stepping in only when she nearly cut her finger for the third time. "Okay, okay, move over before you lose a hand."

She huffed but let you take over, leaning against the counter as she watched. "Y’know, I think I like watching you cook more than actually doing it."

"Oh yeah?"

She grinned. "Yeah. It’s hot."

You flicked a piece of carrot at her. "Go set the table, you perv."

She laughed, dodging the attack, but did as she was told.

After dinner, the two of you settled on the couch, Ellie stretching out with her head in your lap as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair. She hummed softly, eyes fluttering shut.

"Mm… this is nice," she murmured sleepily.

You smiled, brushing your thumb along her temple. "Yeah. It is."

Silence settled between you, warm and comfortable. Ellie shifted slightly, her arm draping over your waist as she nuzzled into you.

And just like that, whatever plans you had for the rest of the night faded away. The world outside could wait.

For now, it was just you and Ellie, wrapped up in the kind of peace neither of you ever thought you’d get to have.

a/n: did someone said... DOMESTIC ELLIE???? I did. It was me. I love her. Also, next chapter is kinda going to be the last one... I'm actually so sad bc i love this series with my heart, but I swear I'll give you an ending to remember :)

taglist !

@kaykeryyy @vahnilla @autisticintr0vert @leavemeinthewater @alexandra-001 @liasxeatt @urge-to @catrapplesauces @jhyoos @womenlover0 @sevyscoven @antobooh @brooks-lin @sleepingwasp @iamhellagae @moki-nat

[00valentina-writes00]

♡♥︎ Caught in the Crossfire ♥︎♡

warnings: flirty tension, teasing, Ellie being a whiny mess, Vi being a cocky menace, suggestive, pet names, Ellie suffering (affectionate), Vi thriving, reader is a menace. Tight booty shorts.

Yes you are seeing this right. A Vi x reader x Ellie Drabble.

It started as an experiment—just to see how long you could go before one of them snapped.

You had woken up to a quiet morning, the kind where the world felt a little too still, the air heavy with a lazy sort of warmth. The perfect atmosphere to test both your girlfriends’s resolve.

Vi and Ellie had their own ways of handling attraction. Vi? No shame. If she wanted you, she let it be known, loud and clear. Ellie, though? She felt just as intensely but tried to act cool, which made it even more entertaining to watch her break.

So, naturally, you’d slipped on the tightest, tiniest pair of shorts you owned—the kind that hugged every curve, rode up in all the right places, and left very little to the imagination.

Then, you went about your day as if nothing was different.

Vi noticed first.

Because of course she did.

You were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water when a low, appreciative whistle cut through the quiet.

“Damn, babe.”

You didn’t turn around, just took a slow sip from your glass, pretending not to notice the way Vi leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, smirk as sharp as ever.

She looked too smug, like a wolf who’d just spotted its next meal.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” she asked, tilting her head as she shamelessly let her gaze trail down your legs. “’Cause if so, fuck—what a way to go.”

You hummed, setting your glass down before turning to face her, feigning innocence. “What’re you talking about?”

Vi grinned, taking a step closer, then another. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of you, her hands finding their way to your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles over the fabric of your shorts.

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about, sweetheart.” She tugged you just the slightest bit closer, her voice dipping low. “Walkin’ around here lookin’ like that—fuckin’ unfair.”

You fought the urge to grin. “Oh? Thought you liked my outfit.”

Vi chuckled, dipping her head down so her breath ghosted over your ear. “Oh, I love it. Just don’t blame me if I lose my goddamn mind.”

Ellie noticed next.

You were in the living room, sprawled out on the couch with a book in your lap when she walked in, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

She almost didn’t notice—almost.

But then you shifted, stretching just enough to make your shorts ride up even more, and suddenly, Ellie was very awake.

Her whole body went rigid.

You could feel her eyes on you, could hear the way her breath hitched just the slightest bit before she forced herself to act normal.

But it was too late.

She’d already taken the bait.

You turned a page, pretending not to notice the way Ellie was still standing by the doorway, unmoving, struggling to tear her eyes away.

“Somethin’ wrong?” you asked, voice laced with amusement.

Ellie sputtered.

“N-No—! I mean—” She cleared her throat, visibly flustered. “You just—uh—fuck.” She ran a hand down her face, groaning. “Why the fuck are you wearin’ those?”

You blinked. “These?” You tugged at the hem of your shorts, playing innocent. “It’s hot.”

Ellie whimpered.

Like, an actual, pathetic little noise that she immediately tried to cover up with a cough.

Vi’s laugh rang out from the kitchen. “Jesus, Els, you good?”

Ellie shot her a glare, but it had zero effect considering how red her face was.

You, meanwhile, stretched again, enjoying the way Ellie practically melted into the floor, her whole body screaming distress.

“Babe,” she groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You cannot just—just exist like that. It’s—fuck.”

Vi leaned against the couch, smirking. “Can’t handle it, Williams?”

Ellie shot her a look. “Shut the fuck up.”

Vi laughed. “C’mon, look at her—” She gestured toward you as if you weren’t fully aware of what you were doing. “How am I not supposed to stare?”

Ellie let out another strangled noise, throwing her head back against the wall. “You guys are fucking evil.”

Vi just grinned. “Nah, she’s evil. I’m just enjoying the show.”

Ellie groaned, flopping onto the couch beside you, burying her face in a pillow. “I hate this.”

“You love this,” you corrected, reaching out to playfully tug at a strand of her hair.

Ellie grumbled something incoherent but didn’t pull away.

Vi chuckled, perching herself on the armrest, watching you with a lazy, knowing smirk. “So, babe,” she purred, “you gonna sit there and keep torturing us, or you gonna do somethin’ about it?”

Ellie immediately perked up, pulling her face from the pillow, suddenly very interested in your response.

You smirked, leaning back against the couch. “I dunno…” You dragged the words out, reveling in the way both of them were hanging onto them. “I am kinda enjoying watching you two suffer.”

Ellie whined. “Babe, please.”

Vi laughed, shaking her head. “Damn. You’re ruthless.”

You grinned. “You love it.”

Vi leaned down, pressing a quick, teasing kiss to your cheek before murmuring against your skin, “You have no idea.”

Ellie, not to be outdone, immediately buried her face into your neck, groaning dramatically. “I’m suffering.”

You laughed, finally relenting just enough to thread your fingers through her hair, nails scratching lightly against her scalp. “Poor baby.”

Ellie hummed, melting under your touch. “Finally, some fucking justice.”

Vi rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. “You’re such a fuckin’ baby.”

Ellie huffed, still pressed against you. “And you’re a goddamn perv.”

Vi grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Vi winked. “Yeah? And whose fault is that, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer—just smirked, knowing damn well you’d won this round.