[swaglegendwolfgirl]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

[swaglegendwolfgirl]

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

[bunnirott]

Frank iero my close and personal friend

[xxiwasspaghettifiedxx]

╋━

[bunnirott]

what the fuck is up with all the mcr incest i am Scared

[subtledreamergirl]

frah (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[zombgvtz69]

I want them to spit roast me

[bunnirott]

Pls

[heart-attack-in-blue-hair-dye]

ill knock all this shit over

[allieclammyhands]

hes like a dog in the bad teenager phase

[lordofthedyk3s]

──𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑;

(loser!ellie x reader): you invite your shy neighbor over to held you build a shelf. and when is it ever just about building a shelf?

wc: 5.8k | cw: sub!ellie, oral sex (e!receiving), scissoring, reader and ellie are neighbors, a little voyeurism, the briefest masturbation ever, ellie is kind of a perv, MINORS DNI.

note: this came to me like a joan of arc vision and i had to write it real quick; now i can finally return to what im supposed to be doing which is hotwired. i have not forgotten!!

Ellie’s been hyper-aware of you since the moment you moved in. She told herself she’d go introduce herself, be friendly, neighborly. Even got halfway to your door once, palms sweaty, heartbeat in her throat. Spun right back around and nearly tripped over the stupid garden hose on her front lawn. Practiced what she’d say a few times in the mirror after that. Hated herself for it. Sounded like a fucking idiot.

You show up in her journal the day after. Then the day after that. And after that. Doesn’t take long before you’re a regular feature. Half her entries start with your name now. Sometimes she doesn’t even mean to write about you. You just slip in.

From her bedroom window, Ellie’s got a direct line of sight into your backyard. She tells herself it’s not on purpose. That she didn’t realize how perfect the angle would be until she saw you out there, laid out poolside, water beading on your stomach. She watches the way your skin gleams in the sunlight. The way you laugh with your friends. She watches too long. Every time. Then flips her sketchbook shut like it’ll help erase the way her throat gets tight or the way her stomach twists, low and hot.

You leave your curtains open in the mornings. Every morning. She’s never sure if you know what you’re doing. Her desk is already facing that way, and it’s not like she tries to look, but her eyes always end up there. And you’re half-dressed and padding around your room, still clearly groggy. You look right at her sometimes. Wave. Give her that smile. Just a little thing, crooked at the edges like you know what it does to her. And Ellie barely manages to lift her hand in return without her fingers shaking.

She doesn’t talk to you. Not really. You’ve said hi a few times. Made some joke while taking out the trash once. The usual pleasantries neighbors share. But it’s always her who fumbles it. She blanks out when you talk to her. Nods at the wrong time. Trips over her words. One time she tried to say “good luck” and ended up blurting “you too” before pretty much sprinting back into her house.

She thinks about you way too often. Thinks about your lips, your legs, the way you look when you tilt your head and act like you don’t know you’ve got her wrapped around your little finger. She wakes up some nights still breathless from the kinds of dreams she’d rather not admit to having. Some mornings all she can do is roll over in bed and grind against her hand until she’s coming and whining your name into her pillow.

She’s got it bad. Real bad. And she knows it.

—

Ellie’s in the middle of a tense match when the doorbell rings. She's crouched behind cover, one kill off a win, headset on, mic hot, muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath. She doesn’t even look up. Just yells, “Joel, door!”

No response.

“Joel!”

Still nothing.

Ellie groans, leans back in her chair, and yanks her phone off the desk. Swipes down to open the Ring cam feed, already pissed, and then nearly throws her phone across the room. Because it’s you.

You’re standing there, relaxed like you’ve got all the time in the world. Wearing that loose tank top that always rides up a little when you move. 

“Fuck,” Ellie hisses. She rips her headset off mid-callout—some dude in her party starts yelling that she’s throwing—and she bolts from her chair, nearly tripping over the controller cable. Her socks skid across the hardwood as she rushes to the door, still a little breathless from the sprint and the game and the fact that you’re right there.

She flings the door open. “Hey—uh, hi. Hey.”

You look her over, clearly amused. She’s wearing an old band tee that’s definitely seen better days, a loose pair of boxers, and mismatched socks. She tries not to think about how stupid she looks. She also tries not to pant. Fails both attempts.

“Everything okay?” you ask, clearly trying not to smile. “You look like you ran a marathon.”

“I—no, I was just…I was doing something. In the middle of something. Game. Match. I mean, not important.” Ellie gestures vaguely behind her, then scratches the back of her neck. “What’s up?”

You hold up a folded sheet of paper and what looks like a flat-pack manual. “So, I bought this shelf online. One of those ‘some assembly required’ deals. I got halfway through unboxing it and realized I have no fucking idea what I’m doing. I was gonna call someone but then I remembered your dad does, like, handyman stuff, right?”

Ellie nods before you even finish the sentence. “Yeah, totally. Big handy family. I mean. Joel’s handy like professional-carpenter-handy. Like Jesus. But I’m handy, too. I can do…shelf stuff.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” Ellie lies. With the confidence of someone who has never assembled anything more complex than a bong. She’s pretty sure you can tell she’s bluffing. But you don’t call her out. You just grin like you’re indulging her. And that’s even worse. Ellie wants to melt into the floor.

You glance at Ellie’s current state of undress and smirk. “I’ll, uh, let you get dressed.”

Ellie freezes. Her face goes red so fast it’s actually impressive. She glances down and immediately crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight from foot to foot like it’ll somehow make her smaller.

You don’t say anything else, but your eyes drag over her anyway, slow and obvious. Ellie doesn’t even see the way your gaze lingers nor the heat in it. She’s too busy dying on the spot.

You tap the side of the manual against your thigh. “See you soon, handyman.”

You turn and head back down the porch, all easy swagger, and Ellie just stands there with her heart in her throat, watching you go until the door shuts behind you.

She slams her door shut and practically sprints to her room, ripping off the gross shirt and tossing it somewhere under her bed. She yanks on the first cleanish tee she can find—plain gray, no holes—then switches out the boxers for a pair of old jeans with only one tear in the knee. It’s the best she’s got. Her deodorant gets applied in a panic swipe, and she actually considers cologne for half a second before deciding that’s too obvious.

She finds Joel in the garage, hunched over some busted weed whacker, noise-canceling headphones around his neck. When Ellie tells him she needs tools, he barely looks up.

“Which ones?”

“I dunno. Whichever ones I need, I guess?” She’s already looking around like the answer will just manifest itself. “Shelf-making ones?”

Joel sighs and turns toward the storage shelves. He reaches behind a tarp and pulls out a small glittery toolbox—the same one he gave her when she was fourteen as a joke because it was “on sale” at some hardware store. It’s bright blue with silver sparkles and a cracked plastic handle. It once served as a nice case for all her art supplies, but it’s long since been retired.

Ellie groans. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Said you needed tools.”

“I cannot show up at their house with that,” she says, pointing at it like it personally wronged her. “It’s humiliating.”

Joel shrugs. “Still holds nails, don’t it?”

Ellie glares. But she takes it. Because she did say she’d help and backing out now would make her look even more like a freak. So she grabs the stupid thing, holds it against her side like that’ll make it less noticeable, and makes the short walk across the lawn to your front door. She’s already running through every possible way she could mess this up.

The most damning of them all is that she doesn’t have a single clue what she’s doing. Joel has built every single piece of furniture Ellie has owned ever which has left her pretty severely lacking on any real knowledge on putting these things together. But how hard can it really be? She knows what a shelf looks like and she can read. Should be fine. 

You open the door before Ellie can knock, like you’d been waiting for her. She's gripping the sparkly toolbox like it's her last shred of dignity, and you don’t even bother hiding your grin when you clock it.

“Cute box.”

Ellie scowls. “Don’t.”

You just step aside and let her in. “Come on. It’s in my room.”

Of course it’s in your room. Ellie swallows hard and follows you through the house, trying not to look like she’s memorizing your back. Your place smells nice. Like clean laundry and citrus and something warm underneath. She tries not to think about that too hard either.

Your room is—cozy. Lived-in without being messy. There’s a half-drunk iced coffee on your nightstand and a candle that burned itself out hours ago. A pile of neatly organized books. And dead center on the floor, a cardboard box and a sad collection of loose wooden boards that definitely could be a shelf.

Ellie hovers by the doorway for a second too long. You notice. “You coming in or…?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah.” She steps inside, sets the toolbox down with a clack like it just betrayed her, then crouches beside the box and starts pulling out the parts, one by one. “Okay, so, we got like... panels. Screws. Instructions in the smallest font I’ve ever seen. Cool.”

You sit down on the edge of your bed and watch her sort through the chaos. She's trying to look capable. Focused. Like she knows exactly what comes next. “You want help?”

Ellie snorts. “Nah. Got it.”

You nod slowly. “Right. You got it.”

She spends the next five minutes trying to figure out what piece A is and how it connects to piece B while you watch her like she’s the best thing on TV. Her brow furrows, lips pursed, a little smear of sweat starting to form at her temple. She flips the manual upside down. Then right-side up again.

Eventually, you lean in. “So, real question. Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

Ellie laughs, short and sharp. “Absolutely not.”

You grin. No pity in your eyes, just amusement. “Then why’d you say you did?”

Ellie sits back on her heels and scratches at the back of her neck. “Didn’t wanna seem like some loser who can’t even put together a shelf. Not exactly a great look.” Her cheeks go pink as she averts her gaze from yours. 

You blink. “Did you not think it’d be worse to be caught lying about being a loser who can’t build a shelf?”

“I…I didn’t really think that far ahead?”

And you can’t help but laugh. “It’s fine, Ellie. We’ll figure it out together.”

You move closer like it’s nothing. Like sitting thigh-to-thigh with her on your bedroom floor isn’t a big deal. Your knee nudges against hers as you reach across her for one of the side panels. Your fingers brush over the back of her hand, just for a second. Not an accident. Ellie tells herself it has to be an accident because the alternative would mean this is something, and if this is something, she’s going to combust.

You smell like your shampoo. Your skin is warm. Every time you lean in, Ellie feels it in the back of her neck. She’s trying to focus on the instructions, on the tiny print and dumb little line diagrams, but her mind is chewing itself up in the background. She’s not even pretending to be useful anymore, just kind of holding pieces while you do most of the actual building.

And you definitely know what you’re doing. Not with the shelf, maybe, but with her. You keep shifting closer. Leaning in a little more than you need to when you reach past her. Your fingers skim along her wrist when you take a screw from her hand. Every brush of skin is casual on the surface but soaked in something heavier, more deliberate. You’re circling her like it’s a game, and she’s losing.

Ellie shifts, her whole body twitchy, like she’s trying to create space without making it obvious. Her hands are fists on her lap, knuckles white. She won’t look at you. Her gaze is fixed somewhere two feet in front of her. She takes a sharp breath when you settle a hand on her thigh—light, slow, like you’re trying not to spook a prey animal. And it’s not even a grab, not anything obscene. Just resting there.

She’s going to die. She’s going to die in your bedroom with stupid (not to mention soaked) minecraft boxers on. And as far as she knows, you’re none the wiser. She’s wrong, of course.

You give her a moment, then pull back, gentle and entirely unfazed. “I think we can probably stop here. I’ll finish up the rest later.”

Ellie jolts like you slapped her. For the first time in a while now, her eyes are back on yours. “What? No—I mean, yeah, if you want, but we don’t have to. Like, if you’re busy, or—”

You’re already laughing a little under your breath as you stand. “Ellie.”

She gets up in a rush, like she’s just now remembered how legs work. “Okay, cool, thanks for letting me—uh. Help. Sort of.”

She’s already heading toward your door, head down, hands shoved deep into her pockets, throwing out a frantic string of goodbyes: “Alright, see you later—thanks again—hope the shelf doesn’t like, fall over. Bye—”

“Ellie,” you say, stopping her before she can reach the hallway.

She turns around, slow and confused. Her face is pink. She’s still got that stupid glittery toolbox clutched to her chest like it’s a shield. You tilt your head. “I was actually gonna see if you wanted to hang out a little longer.”

Ellie’s brows pull together. “What? Why?”

You blink at her. “Because my parents are out of town and I’ve been bored.”

Ellie frowns, confused. “Don’t you have friends?”

You laugh and Ellie quickly launches into a jumbled explanation of how she didn’t mean it like that. Before she can fully work herself up, you step forward, closing the space again, and place your hands lightly on her shoulders. She freezes. Her eyes lock on your mouth and immediately dart away.

“Ellie.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to hang out with you. Specifically.”

Silence. Ellie just stares for a beat. Then: 

“Oh.”

You grin, stepping back a little like you’re trying not to scare her off. “People who like each other usually hang out.” And Ellie has to tell herself that you are referring to the platonic kind of like. She is, once again, glaringly incorrect.

Ellie’s voice is barely a whisper. “Right. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“So?” you ask, watching her. “You wanna stay?”

She nods, too fast. “Yeah. Definitely. I can stay.”

You give her that smile again—the one that makes her stomach fold in on itself—and motion for her to join you on your bed.

Ellie stands there another beat, still clutching the toolbox. Her palms are sweating. Her ears are ringing. She thinks about writing this down later but knows she won’t need to. This is the kind of moment that tattoos itself into your brain.

You queue up Jurassic Park and flop down onto the bed, patting the spot beside you. Ellie hesitates for a beat—eyes flicking to the edge of the mattress like it’s a trap. Then, she sets down her toolbox and climbs in. She sits stiffly at first, shoulders high, back not quite touching the headboard. You toss a blanket over both of you like it’s no big deal, and Ellie goes even stiller, like you just cast a spell on her.

The movie starts, and for the first ten minutes, she’s visibly tense—knees locked, jaw clenched, arms crossed like she’s trying to physically hold herself together. But then the first dinosaur shows up, and Ellie perks up like a dog hearing its leash jingle.

Suddenly, you’re hearing her form entire sentences without missing a single beat, her enthusiasm lighting up her eyes in a way that’s nothing short of adorable. She’s got corrections and fun facts and gripes that really are that serious. And you’re content to listen to each and every tid bit she gives you.

“You’re kind of a dino nerd, huh?”

Ellie shrugs, but she’s grinning now. “I had this book when I was a kid. Read it so many times the spine fell apart. Joel used to quiz me on the names even though he kinda sucked at it. It was a whole thing.”

Looking at her now, she is well and truly loosened up. Her shoulders aren’t up by her ears anymore. Her voice is still low, but steadier. She’s not second-guessing every word out of her mouth.

You shift slightly under the blanket and find her hand resting in the space between you. Her fingers twitch when yours brush against them. You wait half a second—then curl your hand over hers, easy.

Ellie jumps a little.

Her eyes cut toward you, startled, but she doesn’t pull away. She settles slowly back into it, thumb grazing against your palm, a smile playing on her lips.

Then, carefully, you tug her hand over and drop it into your lap.

Ellie goes rigid and her hand twitches where it sits in your lap. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing just a little. “Why are you apologizing?”

She stares at you, stunned. “What?”

“I put it there,” you say. Your voice is quieter now, and you shift closer until your knees knock and your thigh presses against hers beneath the blanket. The movement shifts Ellie’s hand close to the inside of your thigh. “Because I wanted it there.”

Her mouth opens. Closes. Her eyes search your face like she’s waiting for the punchline. Like she’s convinced she must’ve misheard you, or that any second you’ll pull the rug out from under her. Her jaw works like she’s trying to find a safe response and coming up blank.

You let her look. Let her get all twisted up in the silence. Then you speak again, softer.

“You’re, like, impossible to flirt with.”

Her breath catches. She doesn’t even try to hide it.

You pull back a little, just enough to look her in the eyes. “Unless I misread how you look at me?”

Ellie looks away, clearly embarrassed. “What way do I look at you?”

You smile, slow and sure. “Ellie. You’re incredibly obvious.”

She lifts her gaze back up to you, wide-eyed and still as stone. Like if she breathes wrong, you’ll disappear.

“You’re always watching me,” you continue, your voice warmer now, threaded with something closer to affection. “You blush every time I get close. You trip over your words. I really hope you don’t think you were being subtle staring at me from your window?”

And like you summoned it, a flush climbs her neck. It spreads quickly. Splotchy and pink, blooming across her cheeks and burning down her collarbone. She groans under her breath and covers her face with her free hand, as if that’ll protect her from the sheer mortification eating her alive.

You laugh, soft and real, and reach up to gently nudge her hand away so you can see her face again. “You’re pretty, you know.”

Ellie swallows, her throat bobbing like her whole body’s gone dry. Her eyes flick to your mouth, then back up to yours, like she’s not sure what to do with the ache building behind her ribs.

You drop your voice again. “Can I kiss you?”

For a second, she just breathes. Then:

“Fuck yeah, dude.”

You don’t make her wait. You lean in and kiss her, and Ellie melts under the pressure. She makes a sound deep in her throat, half-surprised, half-relieved, and her hand tightens where it’s still caught in yours.

The kiss starts slow, soft, and exploratory but it doesn't stay that way. Soon enough, you’ve got her on her back, your legs caging her in. Ellie kisses back like she’s starving, all open mouth and uneven rhythm, a little too eager, teeth knocking into yours when she gets too excited. You just smile against her and pull her in closer.

She’s warm beneath you, chest heaving, hands hovering awkwardly at your waist like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to touch you. You shift, pulling away enough to pepper kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her eyes flutter open, wide and glassy.

“Ellie,” you murmur, breath hot against her jaw, “you can touch me.”

“I don’t—where should I—fuck, I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You grab her wrists and guide her hands down to your ass, slow and intentional. “Start here.”

Ellie groans into your mouth like it hurts, like you just snapped something inside her. Her fingers flex against you, gripping tight, unsure and desperate all at once. She kisses you harder now, tongue clumsy but needy, and it only fuels you more. You rock against her a little, and her hips twitch up instinctively—like her body already knows what it wants even if her brain’s stuck buffering.

She’s breathing hard, lashes fluttering, hands still squeezing like she’s afraid you’ll take the permission away. You pull back just enough to tug her shirt up, fingers slipping underneath the soft cotton, palms skating over her stomach. Her breath stutters.

Then you reach her tits—small, warm, and blessedly sensitive—and she arches, eyes slamming shut as her mouth falls open.

“Fuck,” she gasps, voice wrecked already.

You grin, leaning in to kiss the corner of her mouth. “You’re so cute.”

She nods, helpless. Her hands are still glued to your ass like it’s the only thing anchoring her to reality.

You roll your thumb over her nipple, slow, and watch her fall apart under you—face flushed, breath shallow, mouth dragging open like she’s trying to speak but forgot how. You feel her hips shift beneath you again, and you swear she might start begging.

You ruck her shirt up higher, exposing more of her flushed skin, and Ellie lifts her arms automatically like she’s in a trance. You push the fabric up over her chest but don’t bother pulling it off—just enough to bare her tits, already peaked and sensitive from your earlier touch.

“Fuck,” you murmur, half to yourself. She looks wrecked already, sprawled out beneath you, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling like she just ran laps. You shift lower, sliding down her body, dragging your mouth along the soft skin of her ribs, across the center of her sternum, and then finally up to her tits.

Ellie gasps when your mouth closes around her, her back arching off the bed like it’s instinct. You suck lightly, then swirl your tongue over the sensitive bud, feeling the way her whole body jerks beneath you. Your hand comes up to palm the other, thumb rolling lazily over it, matching the rhythm of your mouth.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathes, voice thin and cracking. “That feels—fuck, that feels so good.”

You hum against her, pleased, and gently nip at the peak just to see how she’ll react. She cries out, high and sharp, her hips twitching beneath you. Then, you feel it: the way her thigh muscles tense, how her breath goes ragged as she starts grinding against your leg, slow and instinctive.

You glance up at her through your lashes. Her face is flushed deep red, her lips parted around soft, helpless little whines. You press your thigh in closer, give her something to move against, and she takes it. Hips rolling in tiny, desperate circles, chasing friction like it’s all she can think about.

“Look at you,” you murmur, switching sides, sucking her other nipple into your mouth and letting your teeth graze the edge. “So worked up. You like that?”

Ellie lets out a broken little noise, her fingers curling tight in the sheets. “Yeah,” she pants. “Yeah, it’s—it’s so good. I can’t—fuck—”

You pull back just enough to watch her squirm, to see the way she bucks helplessly against your leg, her tits wet and shining from your mouth, her chest heaving like she’s about to fall apart.

“Tell me,” you say, low and deliberate, leaning in to flick your tongue over her nipple again. “Tell me how good it feels.”

Ellie whines, forehead pressed back against the pillow, barely holding on. “It feels…it feels amazing, I swear, I—”

You sink your teeth in gently, right over the peak, and she cries out again, hips stuttering. Her leg clenches around yours, her body strung tight, trembling.

You kiss your way back up her chest, licking the sting away where your teeth left faint marks, and then lift your head to look at her. Ellie’s eyes are glassy, lips slick and parted, her whole body taut like she’s waiting for instructions.

“Take your jeans off,” you murmur, already sitting back to strip yourself without fanfare. Shirt over your head, underwear tugged down and kicked off..

Ellie’s slower. Predictably. Her hands fumble with the button, and she lets out this soft frustrated grunt when the zipper catches. “Fucking—hold on—”

You grin, not helping yet, just watching her struggle. She finally gets the fly undone, starts to shimmy them down her thighs—but she’s too flustered, too distracted by the fact that you’re already naked and looking at her like that. She gets them halfway down her knees before giving up and groaning, “Can you—ugh—can you just help?”

“Of course,” you say, and lean forward to grab the denim and yank it down her legs in one smooth pull. She averts her gaze as you giggle at her ridiculous choice of underwear. She mumbles something under her breath about not being prepared for this. Still, she lifts her hips for you, panting slightly. Her shirt comes off in the process, getting tangled around her arms before she peels it off and tosses it blindly across the room.

Now she’s naked. Spread out. Flushed and panting, thighs twitching slightly as you settle between them.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, staring down at you like she can’t believe this is happening.

You kiss the inside of her thigh—slow, deliberate—and watch the way her whole body jumps. Her hands twist in the sheets. She’s so soft and wet already, your breath alone making her shiver. You part her lips with two fingers, drag your tongue through her, slow and warm, just once. Ellie’s hips jerk, a soft desperate sound falling from her lips.

You hum, teasing. “You want more?”

“Obviously,” she says, a little punched-out laugh falling from her lips.

You press a kiss to her clit, light and fleeting. “Ask nicely.”

Ellie makes a wounded sound. “Wha—what?”

“If you want to come,” you say, thumb brushing lightly over the slick swell of her, “you need to beg for it.”

Ellie’s head drops back to the pillow. “Jesus Christ,” she mutters, breath hitching. But she does it. Of course she does. You watch her work herself up, watch her flush darker, open and close her mouth while she searches for the right words.

“Please,” she whimpers, voice thin and cracked. She clears her throat like it’ll help. “Please make me come. I want it so bad, I need it—I’ve never—fuck, I need it, I swear—”

She’s panting now, rocking her hips up into what little you are giving her, already starting to tremble. You take pity on her. “

She cries out, back arching high, her thighs locking around your head. You lick her with long, slow drags, then fast flicks of your tongue over her clit, your fingers steadying her hips as she bucks. She’s making the prettiest fucking noises. High, breathless, completely unraveling.

It doesn’t take long. She’s too worked up, too raw and needy. When she finally comes, it rips out of her in a broken gasp, her whole body seizing up, shaking under you like a live wire. You don’t stop until her legs go slack and she lets out a wrecked, whimpering sound that’s barely even your name.

Ellie’s still coming down when you crawl back up her body, straddling her thigh and kissing her hard—messy and deep, like you’re trying to feed off the noises she’s still making. She kisses you back, dazed and slow, her hands trembling where they cling to your waist.

You drag your slick center over her thigh deliberately, your breath hitching at the friction. Ellie’s eyes flutter open, and when she realizes what you’re doing, her whole body locks up before melting into it like she can’t help herself.

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, voice raspy, eyes fixed where you’re grinding against her. “You’re so hot, m’gonna pass out.”

You don’t slow down. You shift higher, thighs hooking with hers, sliding your wet cunt against hers in a rhythm that makes both of you gasp. She’s already sensitive, her clit puffy and aching, and you can feel it: every twitch and tremble, the way she whines under you like it’s too much but not enough to stop.

“Fuuuck,” Ellie moans, her hands gripping your hips like she’s holding on for dear life. “You feel so good. This is fucking insane.” Her voice pitches higher in open disbelief.

You groan, your body grinding down harder, chasing friction, chasing heat. You’re soaked, both of you, slick smearing between your thighs with every desperate rut of your hips. It’s hot and messy and overwhelming in the best way. Her shaky praise only spurs you on, Ellie breathless and flushed and absolutely ruined beneath you, watching you like you’re divine.

“Can’t believe you’re doing this,” she babbles, overwhelmed and wide-eyed. “Can’t believe you’re on top of me like this—fuck, you’re unreal, you’re…so fucking pretty—”

She whines when you slam your hips down harder, clit grinding perfectly against hers, your whole body trembling as the pressure builds, mounting fast. Her praise turns softer, sweeter, even as her voice gets shakier.

“Let me make you come,” she whispers, her thumbs stroking shaky lines into your hips. “Please. Wanna feel it—wanna feel you come on me.”

You let out a broken sound and bury your face in her neck, hips speeding up, chasing it, chasing the crash. She’s moaning under you, helpless and aching, but still telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel, how fucking lucky she is.

It hits like a wave—hot and sudden and sharp. Your whole body locks up, hips stuttering as the orgasm crashes through you, your nails digging into her shoulders as you ride it out. You cry out into her throat, breath hitching, thighs clenching tight around hers as you fall apart.

And then you collapse onto her, sweaty, panting, your body still twitching with aftershocks. She wraps her arms around you instantly, holding you close like she never wants you to leave.

You feel her lips press against your hair, and her voice is still unsteady when she whispers, “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

—

After the two of you manage to catch your breath and situate yourselves a bit, you find yourself cuddles into Ellie’s side. She’s tracing little patterns into your shoulder and the two of you manage to catch the end of the movie. A comfortable Ellie, you soon discover, actually has a lot to say. 

You make the mistake of telling her that you would love to see her Minecraft world and it’s enough to have her bolting from your bed. “I’ll be right back!” She says as she dresses quickly and stuffs her feet back into her shoes. 

Ellie returns breathless, laptop clutched to her chest. Her hair’s damp at the temples from running back and forth between houses, shirt slightly crooked like she didn’t bother checking a mirror before bolting back. You’re still sprawled naked on the bed, comfortably wrecked, watching her with a lazy sort of hunger that hasn't even begun to fade.

She drops the laptop onto the comforter, breath still catching in her throat. “Okay,” she says, already booting it up. “Prepare to be amazed. This is my Minecraft world. I’ve been working on it for like…three years? Four? It’s got an enchantment library, and a working minecart system, and—”

You smile, indulgent, as she flops down next to you and pulls the laptop into her lap, immediately clicking into the game. Her brows furrow in concentration, tongue caught between her teeth as she navigates her little pixelated house, mumbling something about her intricate mining systems and mob grinders.

You nod, pretending to follow. You hear the words, but all you’re really focused on is the way her eyes light up, the quiet excitement in her voice. Her fingers are moving fast on the trackpad, explaining something about her “nether tunnel network,” and she glances at you with those big, eager eyes—proud and entirely unaware of what she looks like right now.

It makes something spark hot and urgent inside you again.

You lean in and kiss her. Soft, at first. Just enough to get her attention.

Ellie freezes, blinking once. “Wait—I was showing you the—” But she doesn’t finish, not when your hand finds her jaw and you kiss her again, deeper this time, climbing into her lap without breaking contact.

Her breath catches hard in her chest. Her hands hesitate before they find your hips, thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin, her mouth opening up for you like it’s automatic. She kisses messily, still distracted, but when your body settles into hers again—warm and familiar and insistent—she groans into it, one hand sliding under your thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she mumbles, voice rough, eyes fluttering shut as you suck at her bottom lip.

“That’s the plan,” you murmur back, already rocking your hips into hers.

She lets out a low noise, kissing you harder now, hands wandering greedily—up your spine, around your waist, fingertips teasing the curve of your ass. She’s just starting to get really into it, her mouth trailing down your neck, when—

“Shit!”

You jolt slightly as Ellie shoves you off her lap and scrambles for the laptop. “Fucking spiders—goddamn—”

You fall back against the pillows, laughing as she clicks furiously. Onscreen, her character is flailing with a sword while two cave spiders chase her through a mine shaft.

“I can’t believe you find spiders more enticing than me,” you tease, breathless with laughter.

Ellie doesn’t look up. “Listen, I don’t wanna have to go on a whole journey to get this shit back. Just…lemme deal with this and I’m all yours. "You laugh even harder, pulling the blanket up around you as she fends off the blocky threat, completely naked under the covers while Ellie disposes of the threat. Red-faced, focused, and yours.

[souliloqui]

18+ | vi x f!reader

cw: a lil pussy slap

a/n: before i rest this night, i needed to put this out there.

"c'mon pretty girl," vi coos into your ear, chin hooked over your shoulder so she can see what she's doing to you. "so pretty, princess. so fucking good."

you can't speak; there are no words that can pass through your lips without them being a jumbled mess. they lay heavy on your tongue, only to seep out of your mouth by a line of drool. you've been made dumb, unable to string even simple thoughts together. all that your poor brain can muster is vi's name on repeat.

but you can't be blamed; not when vi has you locked in a full nelson. not when your legs are hooked tightly over her arms, leaving you trapped as she carries you with ease. as if you weigh nothing to her. and the position she has you in has her fingers hitting you so deep, like she's hitting your cervix and—

you gargle a noise, high and tight in your throat, as you twitch helplessly in her arms. then you're frantically clawing at whatever part of her you can reach, pitched whines escaping you because you can feel it, it's so heavy.

the pleasure winding up inside you, winding up and up until you’re going quiet. mouth wide open and eyes rolled back, body shaking harshly as you cum so hard it hurts. you barely hear it hitting the floor, a mess of liquid that won't stop coming out because vi won't stop fucking you—

"ah," is all you can manage, tears already streaming down your cheeks because holy fuck, that feels too good.

"sweet girl," vi praises, the edges of her voice rough and ragged. she groans against your neck when she lands a slap against your throbbing pussy causing it to slightly gush. "fuck, you're so good for me. love you so much."

"love," you try, but you're far too gone, far too ruined. "vi,"

"i know," vi murmurs sweetly, already shifting you both towards the bedroom. "i know, baby. i'm gonna take care of you, always."

[miajooz]

i believe in my heart that ellie simply cannot be quiet during sex.

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY. I got you babe! Small blurb for this because im plotting so many things. Thanks so much for this, too!

minors + men DNI!! ᖭི༏ᖫྀ wc: 1.2k

If there was one thing Ellie Williams loved, it was tribbing.

That woman could spend an eternity in that position. The feeling of your warm skin against hers, your wet cunts feeding off the pleasure you provided each other, the desperate rutting of hips—all of it. There was something so intimate about the ritual, an intimacy a strap couldn’t accomplish. An intimacy that consisted of such deep rooted love and dedication—the locked eyes, the parted lips, the closeness. The kind of closeness that felt so different, felt so wrapped in its own warmth that it couldn’t even compare to anything else.

Sure, toys and straps were great—but what Ellie liked most was to be close. She loved how your bodies seemed to perfectly mold together, how every grind of her hips brought you a similar feeling, how the warmth of your body pulled her in and coaxed her to continue. It was addicting, for sure. She couldn’t get enough of it.

How could she when your cunts felt so perfect smooshed together?

You and Ellie were in her bed, the room was hotter than usual—or maybe it was just the heat between the two of you. You lost count of how many times you came, how many times you cried out and smashed your sopping pussy against hers and watched her fall apart.

Yet, you were at it again. “Fuckkk, baby. Just like that. Feels so good.” she moaned, raspy but uncontrolled.

You laid on her bed, legs spread and tangled with hers. Ellie was practically straddling you, her body more tilted to the right as she rutted her needy cunt against yours. She held onto your legs tightly, using them to help her move against you in a speed that had you both seeing stars. You thrusted your hips up against her, both of you groaning at the same time.

Ellie looked down at you, the sight of your parted lips and the baby hairs sticking to your forehead making her eyes soften in a way. You looked so pretty like that, the sight of your legs tangled with hers looked so right. The feeling of your cunts rubbing against each other frantically felt so natural, like a kiss that was waiting to happen. A contact you didn’t know you craved every night until you had it.

“Such a pretty girl, my pretty baby.” she praised, rubbing her clit against yours harder than intended to. The sound she let out was pathetic—a sound you’d only hear from her mouth during sex. When you two fucked, Ellie was extremely loud. She just couldn’t keep it in, you made her feel so good, the smallest things made her react.

So much for a monotone, sexy, girlfriend. No, she was all of those—just acted like a bitch in heat in bed.

You panted, weakly placing your hand on top of hers—the one that was holding your leg. Her fingers dug into your flesh, crescent shaped indents forming at the base of her short nails—but you didn’t even notice. How could you when your girlfriend’s pussy being pressed against yours. You both made eye contact, your eyes struggling to not travel north and hers unable to look away. You thrusted your hips up, making her gasp and let out a breathy moan that made your cunt pulse.

“God, Ellie. You feel so good..” you managed to pant out, voice a bit worn from crying her name all night. You continued rutting your hips against each other, sopping pussies sliding all over each other in a desperate way. Needy wasn’t even an accurate enough word. Your clits bumped at the perfect angle, lips kissing each other in the wettest kiss you had ever experienced. Probably because it wasn’t an oral kiss.

Ellie panted, her movements growing almost animalistic. She couldn’t stop, the stimulation was too heavenly. Your cunt felt so wet and perfect against hers, like it belonged there. The bed was starting to shake a bit from the force, springs crying and creaking in protest. Your tits bounced with every little thrust against you, thighs shaking against hers. Ellie was still wearing some kind of band-tee, she was too desperate to take it off earlier. Panties first of course!

“Yeah? Feeling good? Let me hear it, pretty.” she whispered, her voice practically losing all raspiness. It was all breathy, more needy and whiney. Ellie hung her head a bit, trying to hide the way her eyes fluttered and rolled back.

You just nodded—or tried to. Your head bobbled in place, hips finding a decent rhythm with hers. It was hard to do when she was fucking her pussy against yours with an intensity that made you feel limp.

God bless her stamina, because this was the most mouth watering experience of your life. She looked so pretty above you, sweat rolled down her forehead and forced small hairs to stick to her head and the back of her neck. The way she’d bite her lip to stay quiet but fail miserably when she got the perfect angle was so unfairly appealing.

“S-so fucking good Els, need you so bad.” you whined, feeling the same knot in your stomach you felt many times that night. But it felt stronger, each one did. They built off each other it seemed. Your eyes fluttered shut, allowing you to just feel.

Ellie moaned at your words, a similar tightening occurring in her abdomen. “You have me baby..a-all yours. Give it to me again..” she murmured, her voice pitching into whines at the end of her sentence. She kept her pace, unable to handle much more. Her breathing got even heavier if possible, head lifting for just a moment. “Cum for me..fuckin’ soak me even more.”

“I’m gonna cum..Ellie, Ellie!” you cried, head falling back against the pillows and your back arching almost painfully. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking tidal wave—a weak string and whine of her name fell from your lips like a chant, making her moan loudly in response. Your hole clamped around nothing, just squeezed juices out for her. You could feel your own wetness being rubbed all over your tired pussy, making it easier for her to go faster.

When your back arched, your overstimulated cunt pressed against hers in a way that was almost painful. But it was enough for Ellie. “Oh, baby..s-shit, shit, shit!..” she whined, hips rutting desperately against yours as she came. The cry she let out echoed, the neighbors probably hated you guys from how many times she moaned like that. It sounded like something from a porno, something you wouldn’t expect to hear on a Sunday night. Her back arched slightly, head tilted back until her cute nose was pointed towards the ceiling fan—the whole ordeal.

You both panted, pussies still pressed against each other in a tight bond. The feeling was so warm, you didn’t want to let it go even if your nerves were screaming for a break.

Ellie managed to peel herself away for a brief moment, just to change the position. Your legs were spread in a humiliating way, and she straddled you again. When your poor pussies made contact again, you both whined.

“Give me another one baby. Please, I just need to feel you one more time.”

tags!! <333 @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @hyperbabes @usuck @haithone @yunaversalluv @smaugayra @andiemiaswife

IM SO SORRYYY this is short. I’ll incorporate more loud Ellie in future fics, promise!

[bunnirott]

BOOM SHAKALAKAAAA

[souliloqui]

18 + | vi x afab!reader

cw: squirting, a little bit of pussy slapping

a/n: i may be ovulating...that time of the month is approaching...

you're trying to focus on the television. you're doing your damnest to pay attention to whatever plot line is unfolding. but vi's pulled your panties to the side, dipped a finger into your slick hole before rubbing soft circles against your clit.

she's acting innocent, seemingly invested in whatever's happening onscreen. her chin's perched on your shoulder, her chest warm against your back, and oh, she's so warm.

your mouth drops open as your breath goes laboured. your back starts to arch the moment you feel that familiar tightness in your stomach. you thrash a little bit, eyes going slightly cross-eyed and vi easily holds one of your thighs apart to leave you spread open.

she hums when you whimper, trailing kisses down your neck as she slips two fingers into your sopping cunt. with a ruthless curl, she strikes that spot that makes your body shake as you softly cry out her name.

the tv before you is a blur, your attention stole away by pure ecstasy. a hand sneaks under your shirt, plucks at a peaked nipple and you feel that tightness about to snap.

you aren't even warned of its end; all it takes is a few mean slams of vi's fingers in your pussy and you're shocked into cumming. eyes wide, body tensed, and a mess made of the couch and floor. vi whistles, impressed, and gives your throbbing clit a few slaps, causing you to squeal as you squirt once more.

"fuck," you gasps, still twitching as vi doesn't stop playing with you. there's a flick here with a pinch there, a slap that has your thighs quivering. "s-stop, it's too much—"

"shh," vi hushes you, right in your ear as she hugs you close. she's still got fingers in your pussy, stretching you out. "i promise to stop if you squirt just like that one more time." she drags her fingers within you, making you whimper. "just one more time, for me."

[masobunni-deactivated20260305]

wdym we never flirted i literally liked n reblogged ur post

[souliloqui]

vi x f!reader

synopsis: vi wants a new piercing. she wants you to do it.

a/n: please don't pierce yourself unless you know what you're doing. these two are just silly.

"vi, this isn't safe," you say as vi pulls out a needle from one of the bathroom's drawers. you watch as she fiddles with it for a moment, checking it out before grabbing some rubbing alcohol from the cabinet.

"says who?" vi replies, reaching for the plastic bowl she uses to mix dyes. she pours a bit of the alcohol in it before dumping in the needle. you know the bowl is clean, but that still doesn't seem sanitary.

"says me, the untrained piercer," you snark and vi laughs, fishing the needle out and drying it with a hand towel. "y'know, the one who has never pierced anything in her life and is now being asked by her girlfriend to do so."

vi gives the needle a little shake after wiping it, looking you right in the eye. "you worry too much," she tells you and you gape, eyebrows raised as vi goes about removing cotton pads. "you're just passing a needle through my ear, it's not the end of the world." she then smirks. "it's not like i'm asking you to pierce my nipple...unless, that's what you want—"

"shut up," you say, deadpan. "and excuse me for caring about hurting my girlfriend and inevitably giving her an ear infection."

vi chuckles, fond, as she finishes setting up the impromptu piercing station. she then turns to you so she can pull you in, strong arms wrapped firm around your waist. you try to evade her puppy dog eyes, tilting your head this way and that until vi catches you with one hand grasping your chin.

"baby," she says softly. "it's gonna be okay. you know i trust you with my entire self."

"i know," you mumble, avoiding her gaze still. "it's just that...i'd feel bad if you ended up hurt because we decided to do something stupid, and i endorsed it."

vi snorts. "honey, you always endorsed my stupid shit."

"not always," you reply weakly, like you can't even lie to yourself. "i didn't let you jump off the roof into mel's pool last saturday."

"that was after you said it'd be cool if i did a flip while i jumped," vi says, grinning. "then you remembered that i could break many bones and panicked."

"yeah, well," you reply, now smiling. "i never said my methods were smart."

vi hums a laugh, leading you into a gentle sway. "i still want you to pierce my ear," she says after a minute. "but i totally understand if you don't wanna. your comfort comes first, baby."

"i know," you sigh before looking at her, resigned but amused. "let's do it."

vi lights up, beaming. "really? you sure?"

"yeah," you match her bright smile. "it'd be interesting, and hey, if i'm lucky, maybe you'll cry." you tease as vi scoffs playfully.

"i've pierced my own cartilage without a wince, you won't be seeing a tear from me."

"then why am i piercing you?"

"couple activities, babe."

[jackiefruit-buzz-buzz]

[loxoels-deactivated20250609]

coming home to your gf

drunk!reader x gf!ellie

a/n: this is a work of fiction. the events and characters in this story are all made up. remember to separate fiction from reality

tw: alcohol consumption, intoxication/being drunk, slurred speech/loss of coordination, and slight mention of undressing (non-sexual, caretaking context.)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

it’s been five hours since you left the condo you share with ellie to go drink with some friends. and the entire time, she never stopped checking in on you.

baby?

what time are you coming home?

lmk if you want me to pick you up.

you made sure to reply each time, reassuring her with things like, “don’t worry,” and “i’ll be fine,” because you really thought you would be. you even told her your friends would drop you off.

but you definitely didn’t plan to drink that much tonight. blame your friends and their stupid charm—now you’re slurring words and giggling at nothing.

it’s 2am when you finally fumble with the keys and push the door open, practically wobbling into the condo. your steps are all over the place, and you nearly trip over your own feet.

you glance up and see a silhouette by the window, quiet and still, watching the sleeping city—and of course, it’s ellie.

she turns the second she hears the door. her eyes meet yours, and in a blink, she’s already walking toward you. you barely manage a smile before you’re tossing all your weight onto her.

she catches you like muscle memory, arms wrapped around you as she chuckles softly. “how much did you drink, hm?” her tone is amused but gentle.

“baby~ i missed you,” you mumble, slurring like you’ve just woken up from a dream. you grab the collar of her shirt and tug her down, wanting a kiss. she dodges it with a laugh, pressing her palm against your cheek.

“not yet. gotta clean you up first.”

you groan dramatically, dropping your head against her chest. your body’s so limp she has to shift her grip just to keep you from sliding down.

she leads you to the couch like she’s done this a hundred times, setting you down carefully before heading back to lock the door.

when she returns, she kneels in front of you with that same amused smile.

“what are you doing, huhhh? are you taking advantage of me?” you slur, swaying where you sit.

ellie laughs, shaking her head. “i’m taking your shoes off, idiot.”

“that’s so intimatee!”

she sighs playfully but there’s this look on her face—like she’s totally, helplessly in love with you, even when you’re like this. especially when you’re like this.

once your shoes are off, she pulls you up by the waist again, guiding you to the bathroom like it’s second nature. she sits you down on the toilet lid and lets out a soft, amused sigh.

“you’re a lot of work, you know that?”

you pout, already looking offended. “you’re tired of me, aren’t you?”

“never said that.”

“but that’s what you’re implying!”

ellie groans dramatically, placing her hand on your cheek and gently rubbing her thumb against it. “i love you, okay? so shut up.” she leans down and kisses your forehead, slow and warm.

she glances around the sink, scanning your skincare products. she’s watched you do it every night, so it’s muscle memory by now.

you’re already dozing off, head slowly tipping forward—until ellie catches it in her hands, steadying you gently.

she wets her hands and grabs your cleanser, lathering it between her fingers before rubbing it onto your face. her touch is so soft it’s almost ticklish.

“close your eyes,” she says sweetly. you try, but they only half-close. she snorts and keeps going anyway.

once she’s done lathering, she helps you stand, holding you up with an arm around your waist. she tilts your head forward a bit, guiding you toward the sink.

“okay, lean in.”

you do, half-asleep and humming nonsense. she carefully rinses your face with warm water, cupping it in her hands and being so, so gentle. then she pats your skin dry with a towel.

you lean into her touch like a sleepy cat.

“you’re so dramatic,” she mutters, grabbing your toner and dabbing it on your face. “if i wasn’t here, you’d be snoring in full makeup right now.”

“but you are here,” you grin, lips lazy, eyes barely open. “you always are.”

she pauses, then tucks some hair behind your ear. “yeah. always.”

after she finishes, she helps you shuffle into the bedroom. she lays you down softly, tucking you under the blanket like you’re the most fragile thing she’s ever held.

she heads to your closet and picks out fresh clothes—comfy, easy, soft. no effort required from you.

she returns to your nearly-asleep body, moving gently as she lifts your shirt off. then she grabs the warm towel she had waiting, wiping down your skin slowly, carefully, making sure you feel clean and warm.

she slips a fresh tee over your head, and your eyes flutter open, still groggy. “pervert,” you murmur with a smirk.

ellie just chuckles and scrunches her nose. “weirdo.”

next are your jeans. clearly, there’s no way you’re sleeping in those. she wrestles them off of you, muttering under her breath the whole time. once she finally gets them off, she rinses your legs gently with the towel too.

she pulls on a pair of shorts for you, adjusting them with care before helping you sit up again.

“hey, baby,” she says sweetly, “drink some water for me, yeah?”

you blink up at her, and she brings the glass to your lips, holding it steady as you take slow sips.

“that’s it… good,” she coos softly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

once you’re done, she lays you back down again, tucking you in just right.

her eyes drift to your lips, gaze soft—like she’s genuinely happy to be doing this. to be the one taking care of you.

she places her thumb lightly on your lips, tracing them for a second. then she leans in and gives you a quick, soft kiss. just enough to say “i’m here.”

then she lays down beside you, pulling you into her arms, your body instantly melting into hers.

“i love you,” she whispers, like it’s just between the two of you. even if you don’t hear it, she says it anyway.

and she stays there, holding you close, like that love will carry you both through the night.

a/n: hi, guys! lmk what you think about this :3 im trying to improve my writing but i really enjoyed doing this one!