[sapphiclez]

if you’re maga or close to someone who is - hell, if you aren’t adamantly against maga - you really don’t belong in a fandom filled with queer people, women, disabled people and poc.

this comes from seeing a certain sevika writer agreeing with the stupid ‘it’s none of my concern if my friends are maga, we just need to love one another’ bullshit.

this is no longer ‘just political’. it is a complete lack of morals.

thanks.

[ilovewomenfr]

*˖ ݁𖥔𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑪𝒐𝒑!𝑾𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𖥔 ݁ ˖*

**i do not support the current system of policing in any way shape or form i just thought this idea was entertaining so im writing it. don’t like, don’t read.**

cw - established relationship, police, flashing, suggestive, implied smut, ellie’s easy as hell (whats new), not proofread only skimmed

As you drive home from work, you get a little lead footed with the gas once you break free from the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the highway, colour returning to your knuckles as your grip on the steering wheel loosened and posture returning to it’s usual relaxed state. Eager to slip off your tight shoes and climb into bed with your sweats on after putting dinner in the oven, you speed up. You were maybe 10 kilometres over the limit, barely past 60 rather than going 50.

Cars turn off the main road while the sun sets, darkness washing over quickly, street lamps and blinding LED’s providing the only light. Had the street been less empty, you wouldn’t have thought twice when you see red and blue in your rearview. Adjusting it, you notice a cruiser flashing its lights at you. Perfect. It’s not like you had incessant assholes on the phone all day, mad you had to reschedule their appointments. The siren chirps twice, and you roll your eyes as you pull over.

When you see who walks out of the driver’s seat, you almost laugh. Almost—you’re still annoyed something’s gotten in the way of you, your pyjamas, and a glass of wine. Her hair is pulled up messily in the same half-up half-down she threw it in this morning before she left, and you can see the grin on her face as she approaches your car.

She stops at your window, arms crossed as she peers inside, the expression plastered across her face letting you know she’s about to do some bullshit. Sighing, you roll down your window;

“Seriously, Ellie?”

“Do you have any idea how fast you were going, ma’am?”

“You have got to be kidding me,” you shoot her the most irritated look you can as she leans against the car, casualness taking over her posture as her forearms rest on the open window.

“Ten over. I’ll have to ticket you for that y’know.” She answers for you, reaching for the booklet in her belt. “License and registration?”

“Everyone goes ten over.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s legal, ma’am.” Usually the whole ma’am thing she did turned you on, but right now it wasn’t doing anything but piss you off.

“Quit the ma’am thing. It’s annoying me right now.” You reach over into the glove box and pass the ziploc bag of documents to her, then dig through your purse for your wallet.

“You’re for real giving me a ticket for ten over?” You ask, the plastic card between your index and middle finger as you pass it over. Ellie just hums as she reads over the registration and her pen begins to scratch against the paper of her booklet.

“If I pop a tit can I get out of it?”

“That’s no way to talk to an officer. I could add another ticket for bribery.” Her tone opposes her words, voice dipping as her eyes roam your chest. You raise your eyebrows, “Are you supposed to leer at civilians, officer?”

“You’re the one who offered.” Her lip between her teeth as she raises her brows and puts her bodycam face up on your console. To that, you chuckle,

“You’re taking the offer?” Your tone almost condescending as you watch her cheeks bloom pink. She quickly replies:

“When have I ever said no to seeing your tits?”

You have to agree, she makes a very valid point. The street is asleep, no sounds other than the occasional dog bark or cricket chirp. The only light reflecting on the asphalt is shining from the moon and lamps that are scattered every twenty feet. Still, you crane your neck to make sure no cars are coming in either direction. Over your shirt, you reach a hand behind yourself and unclasp the bra, shrugging the straps down the short sleeves of the blouse before lazily pulling it up and off, tossing the bra on the passenger’s seat. And you slowly unbutton the top of the fabric.

When your breasts spill out, your eyes find Ellie’s face, her own completely focused on your chest. You watch as her pupils dilate, and her breathing rushes.

“Fuck,” She reaches a hand out, barely passing the windowsill before it’s met with a light slap from you.

“When did I say you could touch?” You scold her, voice stern as you begin to button the shirt back up.

She almost whines, “That’s not fair.”

“You’ll live,” you glance at the clock, she had about an hour or so before her shift ended. She tries to plead her case, but you refuse to let her complete any of the sentences she begins.

“I’ll let you do what you want at home how ‘bout that?” You suggest, and her green eyes light up.

Ellie can’t help the smile that grows when the words leave you. “Be on the bed when I get home?”

You shrug, “What if I start without you?”

Her eyes turn hungry as she leans fully in the car to kiss you, one hand at the nape of your neck, the other reaching to the discarded camera on the console. It’s sweet in the way only someone whose lips fit perfectly against yours could be. Deep and hungry while just barely being more than a peck. It’s still enough for both your minds to wander towards what will happen later. Her mouth moves against your own as she murmurs, “Do whatever. Surprise me.”

With the ticket completely forgotten, she stands back up, reattaching her bodycam as she walks backwards to her cruiser, a giddy smile adorning her face.

surprise unplanned blurb while we wait for me to finish medic x abby 😚

alternate ending: she takes you to the back of her car and fucks you

[somebitchprobably-graphicdump]

More Frutiger Aero 🫧

F2U just like/ reblog. Tag if you wanna but it’s not necessary 🫶

[kcokaine]

at some point in their life

[yanderslutt]

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓

sex addict hanji x reader!

🧪✨ “what’s my diagnosis, doctor?” ✨🧪

she asked, kneeling between your legs—tongue deep, fingers deeper.

your skirt bunched at your hips, your control long gone.

and when you came on her mouth, sobbing her name,

hanji just smiled and whispered,

“addicted. and so am i.”

cw: sex addiction themes, therapist/patient dynamic, explicit oral (f receiving), power imbalance, manipulation, obsession, fingering, unprofessional behavior, dom!hanji, mild degradation, consent-checked but ethically messy.

—

Therapy Office – 4:08 PM

Hanji Zoe’s Legs Are Crossed. Again.

“You’re not writing anything down today,” Hanji says, voice casual.

You glance up from your notepad — blank, indeed. A fact you hadn’t even noticed until she said it.

She notices everything.

Her glasses are fogged slightly from the rain outside. Her brown hair’s tied up messily, yet somehow perfectly. She’s lounged on the couch like it’s her own bed — legs long, skirt riding a little too high, one foot dangling. And her eyes?

Locked on you.

“I’m listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Calm. Not reactive.

“You’re distracted,” she replies, tilting her head. “That’s unprofessional, doctor.”

You ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Tell me about the last time you relapsed.”

She smiles.

There’s something wolfish about it — soft and dangerous. Like she enjoys making you uncomfortable. Like it’s part of the treatment.

“I touched myself… yesterday when I got back home.” she says easily, like she’s describing what she had for lunch. “After a meeting. I couldn’t stop thinking about someone.”

You keep your face neutral. “Who?”

“I won’t say.”

You wait.

She leans in, eyes narrowing.

“But if you’re trying to make me feel ashamed, it won’t work. I’ve been this way longer than you’ve been licensed.”

“Shame isn’t the goal,” you reply quietly.

“No? What is the goal?” she purrs. “To ‘fix’ me? Cure me of craving? Or is the goal to keep me just sick enough that I come back? Keep talking. Keep undressing in front of you… emotionally, of course.”

You hold her gaze. Your stomach knots.

Hanji smiles again — slow. Knowing.

“You’re the only one who’s ever made me want to behave.”

Your fingers tighten around the pen.

But you say nothing.

She watches you — carefully, slowly — and then sits back again, satisfied.

“See?” she whispers. “I say things like that, and you still don’t throw me out.”

You exhale slowly.

Session five. And she’s already rearranged the power dynamic like it’s chess and you never learned the rules.

The Next Day

Therapy Office – 4:04 PM

She’s Early This Time.

She walked in like she owned the place.

No knock. No hesitation. Just that usual Hanji confidence — messy hair, oversized coat barely hanging off her shoulder, combat boots untied. Her glasses slid slightly down her nose, and she didn’t fix them.

She didn’t need to.

“Afternoon, doc,” she greeted, like you were old friends instead of her therapist.

You didn’t answer right away. Just watched her. She didn’t sit on the couch this time — she dropped into your armchair, your chair, like it was some kind of test.

You closed the door slowly. Sat across from her.

“You’re in my seat,” you said.

She smirked. “Is that a boundary?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t move. “You planning to enforce it?”

Your silence said enough.

Hanji’s smile deepened. “Didn’t think so.”

You opened your notepad — already prepared this time. Already braced for whatever chaos she’d bring into the room like perfume on her coat.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Riled up.”

“Be more specific.”

She leaned back. Legs wide. Arms draped over the chair like she was holding court.

“I had a dream about you last night.”

You didn’t look up. “Dreams aren’t always rooted in meaning.”

“This one was.” Her voice dipped. “You had me pinned to the desk. Your mouth was—well. Never mind. You said you weren’t into shame.”

Your pen paused for half a second.

Just enough for her to notice.

“You like when I say things like that,” she whispered. “Don’t you?”

“No,” you lied.

She sat up. Slowly. Bracing her elbows on her knees.

“You shouldn’t be my therapist,” she said, voice low. “You’re too soft with me.”

“I haven’t been soft.”

“You let me flirt with you.”

“That’s not—”

“You let me stay.”

You swallowed hard. “Do you want me to refer you to someone else?”

Hanji’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” she said. “I want you to admit you’ve thought about it too.”

You looked up. The air between you was thick, quiet. A stand-off.

She reached up, slowly, and pulled the elastic from her hair. Curls fell wild over her face.

“I want to get better,” she said softly. “I do.”

You studied her face — flushed, guarded, but honest.

“But I can’t stop unless you tell me to,” she added. “And mean it.”

You didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t.

Because you didn’t mean it.

10:47 PM – Your Apartment

Your Phone Buzzes. You Already Know It’s Her.

You shouldn’t have answered.

You told yourself that earlier tonight — standing in the shower, scrubbing away the heat in your chest that hadn’t gone away since Session Six. You even left your work phone on the counter. But when it buzzed — again — something inside you said:

It’s her.

And you were right.

Hanji’s voice came through the speaker with that same ragged breathlessness you’ve started dreaming about.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I know I’m not supposed to call you outside of hours.”

You swallowed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Is this an emergency?”

She paused.

Then said, so quietly:

“Yes.”

You said nothing.

Just listened.

“I didn’t want to bother anyone else,” she continued, voice fraying at the edge. “You’re the only one who knows what it feels like. This… ache. Like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”

You shifted, thighs pressing together subconsciously.

“It’s worse at night,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”

“Hanji—”

“I tried everything. Breathing. Pacing. Cold shower. I even—”

A pause. A sharp inhale.

“I touched myself. It didn’t help. I kept seeing you.”

Your breath hitched.

“Your mouth,” she said softly. “The way you talk to me. The way your eyes flick away when I say something dirty. Like you’re pretending you don’t want to throw your chair across the room and pin me against the floor.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “This isn’t appropriate.”

“I know.”

“I’m your therapist.”

“I know.”

And yet she kept going.

“I want you to say it,” she breathed. “Just once. Say you think about it too.”

You hung up.

You didn’t mean to — but your thumb hit the red button before your mouth could betray you.

Silence.

You stared at the phone like it might ring again. It didn’t.

But your body was already on fire.

Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts before you could stop it, shame and arousal coiling together so tight it made your breath catch.

You thought about her voice.

The crack in it.

Her glasses fogged from breath. Her mouth saying your name.

I touched myself. I kept seeing you.

You moaned — soft, desperate — fingers circling your clit as your mind betrayed you completely. You imagined her hands instead of yours. Her mouth instead of the pillow muffling your gasps.

Your back arched as you came — quiet, fast, sinful — her name caught between your teeth.

And when the high faded, you just lay there…

Hand still between your legs.

Phone screen still lit.

Heart still racing.

You didn’t call her back.

But you didn’t delete her number either.

Therapy Office – 3:58 PM

You Regret Answering That Call. You Regret Hanging Up More.

She’s early. Again.

You hear the elevator ding just before four, and you already know it’s her.

There’s a beat of hesitation in your step before opening the door, smoothing your expression into something passable. Professional. Calm.

Hanji’s sitting there when you enter. Legs crossed. Notebook on her lap. Her glasses are pushed up, lips parted slightly like she’d been mid-thought.

Like she was waiting.

“You look tired,” she says.

You close the door quietly. “Rough night.”

“Me too.”

Her voice is innocent, but the glint in her eye says otherwise.

Your body tenses as you take your seat — your seat — not hers. Not this time.

You open your notepad. “Let’s begin.”

She tilts her head. “You sure you don’t want to talk about the call?”

You keep your face still. “That call was inappropriate.”

“I noticed you didn’t say unnecessary.”

You don’t respond.

Hanji smiles — slow, almost lazy. She’s not pushing it yet. Not really. But her eyes keep drifting to your mouth. Every time you speak. Every time you press your lips together. Every time you breathe too deep.

She’s studying you.

Like a craving she’s trying not to taste.

And it’s driving you insane.

“Have you considered we’re making progress?” she asks suddenly, like she hasn’t been eye-fucking you for the past five minutes. “I haven’t had sex in over a week.”

“You called me at nearly eleven to tell me you couldn’t stop touching yourself.”

“I didn’t say I succeeded at progress. Just that I’m thinking about it more.”

“And what are you thinking now?”

She leans forward.

Eyes locked to your lips.

“That if you tell me to behave one more time with that mouth—”

You cut her off, voice tight: “You’re deflecting.”

She blinks, lips twitching. “So are you.”

There’s a silence between you. Tense. Breathing.

Her fingers twitch against the arm of the chair. Her knees part slightly. You pretend not to notice. She knows you noticed.

“I liked hearing you breathe last night,” she says. “Right before you hung up. You were shaking.”

You grip the pen harder.

This session’s going nowhere.

Except it’s going exactly where she wants.

“You’re staring again,” you say softly, breath shaky.

Hanji’s smile is slow. Wide. Dangerous.

She’s already across the room before you can stand — before you can do anything.

And then?

She’s in your lap.

One knee braced between your legs, hands on your shoulders, eyes sharp as scalpels. Her breath ghosts over your lips as she murmurs:

“If you want me to stop, tell me now.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

Because the ache between your legs has been building for weeks. Because every word she’s said has rewired your body into hers. Because you stopped being her therapist the moment you imagined her mouth on you.

So you whisper:

“Close the blinds.”

She doesn’t.

Instead, she kisses you — hard — tongue sliding in like she owns your mouth, hips rolling into yours, making you feel how soaked she already is. You gasp, and Hanji smirks into the kiss.

“God, you’re soft,” she breathes, pulling your blouse open. “You dress like a professional, but under here… you’re so fucking easy.”

Her hands slip under your bra — teasing, circling — and your hips jerk forward involuntarily.

She hums. “Already losing control, doctor?”

You try to answer. You do. But then her mouth is on your neck — teeth dragging, tongue licking up the racing pulse in your throat. Her hands push your skirt up, sliding your underwear down without care.

“Let me taste how stressed I make you,” she growls.

You shudder.

And then she drops to her knees between your legs.

Ripping your thighs apart. Gripping them so tight you whimper. Her breath is hot against your soaked center — and then her mouth descends.

“Holy—Hanji—”

She moans into you, like your pussy is her favorite drug — licking slow and messy, tongue pressing into your clit just right, until you’re trembling in your chair, gasping her name like a prayer.

“You taste like sin,” she mumbles between licks. “Like guilt and God and everything I shouldn’t have.”

Her fingers slide inside you — deep, curved perfectly — and you scream, hips jerking up into her mouth.

Your hand flies to her hair, yanking, grounding — and she loves it.

“That’s it,” she whispers. “Come on my tongue, baby.”

You do.

You break.

Shaking, crying out, thighs clamped around her head as you come harder than you ever have — because it’s wrong. Because it’s her. Because she made you.

When it’s over, she stays there.

Breathing you in.

Then she looks up — mouth slick, lips swollen — and says, so sweetly:

“What’s my diagnosis, doctor?”

You pull her up by the collar of her shirt, dragging her into a messy, fucked-out kiss.

“Addicted,” you whisper. “And so am I.”

—

SOMEBODYY SAYYY AAAYYYEEE WE WANT SOME PUSSAYYYY. I wanna write my female anime character x readers but I don't know who.

[nanathott]

i love chappell roan, i love when women stand up for themselves and don’t apologize when they do

[tamsanni]

every time i see any spelling mistakes ive made i genuinely want to die on the spot

[candieddcouture]

If only you and those puritans who complain about smut would stop posting shitty rants in the xreader tags…

why my rant gotta be shitty? it can’t just be a rant?? 🙂‍↕️

[candieddcouture]

mfs who read about romance and angst literally put themselves on a pedestal for not reading smut 😭😭 we do NOT gaf that you “could never see yourself reading something like that” like more for me baby 🤣

[sapphicbae]

Maybe I'm too woke but joking about ICE killing the Hispanic character it's not funny, maybe it's just me idk

ICE is real, the people being killed are real, they're profiling people based on ethnicity, and it's VERY insensitive joke about it, I don't really care how old this person is, ICE is literally taking CHILDREN, and it's not even the first time I saw someone saying something racist in this fandom, what the fuck is happening to y'all?

It's very easy when it's not your family who's in danger, and when it's not your culture they're erasing

[elsfawns]

‧₊˚ ⋅   ❤︎ 　 . . . 　you sought the suburban dream for peace, quiet, and independence away from your overbearing family. ellie, the bachelorette next door, feels that you moving in has filled the empty space in her heart—not that she'd tell you that, though—and she gives 'overbearing' a new meaning. when the only arms you can run to for help are hers, what can you do when she starts to make you feel small in your own home?

♡₊˚　────　5.8k . pervy!neighbour!ellie x femme!reader . mechanic!ellie ◞ kinda naïve n anxious reader who doesn't stand up for herself ◞ u like her, but are confused n shy ◞ ellie is quite delusional tbh n thinks u're her gf ◞ lots of mentions of ellie's past serious relationship & u having some family troubles ◞ dark content !!! manipulation ◞ panty stealing ◞ voyeurism kinda ◞ one littl kiss ◞ she watches u all the time n is very possessive ◞ filthy disgusting masturbation ꒰ els ꒱ ◞ mention of sex toys ◞ vague descriptions of sex ꒰ oral, fingering, strap-on, all r.rec ꒱ ◞ pet names . minors plz do not interact with me or my fics ! reblogs 'n comments greatly appreciated ♡

spring has you busier than ever.

your desire is to soak up as much as you can of this prime time for tending to your garden, especially in your new home—you moved in over the winter, and the garden really does need some help.

between running around and decorating your interior these past months, and now crawling around in dirt trying to pretty up the flowerbeds, you've been working yourself to death. but, it hasn't been done all by yourself, there's been help.

you're lucky to have moved into such a friendly neighbourhood, and the woman next door has been particularly handsy—handy, i mean. she's real handy to have around, as her toolbox has everything she needs to assist you with curating your living space to be exactly how you like.

not to mention your lack of license, and that was how you found yourself so close to her in the first place; ellie's extremely proud of her car, she couldn't not offer you a ride everywhere to show it off. now she knows your schedule and she's usually always free when you need her. it's been a great bonding experience, you've become great friends with your neighbour, and it's rather convenient. you do your grocery shopping together, even.

flicking some hair behind your shoulder, you shuffle forward and pat down the soil around your freshly planted rose bush. it's a perfect day to be on your hands and knees in the flowerbed, with your favourite pair of daisy dukes on. it's not too warm, and the winds have dropped. a simple spring day.

a creaking sound directs your attention to the driveway next door, and just over your picket fence you find ellie peering under the hood of her truck. something about it stops you and you sit up to let your eyes leer over her arms. the black wife-beater leaves it all out in the open, and you can't quit noticing everything—freckles, grease stains, toned biceps—and you know you have to stop it before she catches you.

she works on her truck often, so you're no stranger to this. it's just becoming harder to ignore it, especially as it happens so frequently, always whenever you're out working on the garden. and, although the day is temperate, it's hard to bear when you glance over the fence and heat rushes into your face. it's deeply troubling to you, so you grit your teeth and try to focus on a few tricky weeds sprouting from some empty space.

but, that doesn't last too long.

she calls your name, a smoky, rough drawl that makes you feel hazy. ellie takes your attention quickly, always speaking your name with such confidence that you will adhere to her demands.

and you do every time, such as now; hastily rising to your feet, dusting off your knees and meeting her at the fence.

"hi, ellie!" you smile, looking down. you grasp at the fence panels, using them to stabilise as you rock yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet.

it almost feels like a barrier between you both, firm and protecting, like getting too close might be a bad idea. you wonder if ellie can sense that divide too, and you think she might, given her furrowed expression. though, her eyes linger across your body. maybe she's just worried about the length of your shorts? it feels odd, but not unusual. ellie's always looking out for you, making sure your fashion doesn't malfunction where anyone but you or she could see.

despite it all, you nod your head to the shiny black truck behind her, and ask, "is everything okay? you've been working on it a lot recently."

"nah, nah, it's fine," she rasps. she almost looked startled when you asked what was wrong with the car, but maybe ellie's just unhappy that it's having issues lately.  she treats it like her child, so it's fair to assume she's in the dumps about it not being up to shape. "nothing you need to worry about. no boring car talk, i know you hate it. she still runs fine."

"oh, good—"

"you've been out in the garden a lot more lately," ellie interrupts. "looking good—the garden, i mean. it's making for a pretty nice view."

"you think?" you beam widely, glancing back at your own work. "there's a lot to be done still, but i'm really excited about it."

"yeah, i'm sure it'll look great when you're done," she says, looking down at her feet. she brushes a strand of hair out of her face insecurely. "did you mow the lawn yourself? it was all done when i got back from work a few days ago."

"oh, no, hah." you snort, shaking your head. "an old friend of mine has a business, i asked him to come do it for me! he doesn't charge much, y'know, it's a really good time saver, if you want me to give you his number i—"

"why pay? i can do it for you." she laughs incredulously at the idea of you having someone else to do hard work for you, and you paying that someone else for it. you take her words in good faith, even if it sounds less like an offer, and more like a declaration. "you don't have to get anyone else 'round your house to do stuff for you. just leave it to me. okay?"

"okay . . . if you're sure it's no trouble," you say, giving your shoulders a light shrug. you wipe a bit of sweat off your forehead, huffing softly and changing the topic. "i might run off to grab some water, it's super warm out. you want some? i can bring you a glass."

aside from your own perspiration, even just looking at ellie right now has reminded you to keep hydrated. she's all pink in the face from working on her truck, almost the same shade as the roses you're planting.

"sure," ellie replies. "you're sweet to me."

"of course! i'll be right back."

you turn on your heels and trot over the lawn, back to your porch. the rickety door swings shut behind you and ellie sighs, leaning against her car in wait. she's got nothing to do out here, really, besides waiting for you to come back; you're her purpose behind everything.

living alone is hard, but it's worth every bit to have some independence.

growing up with a family that treats you like you're swaddled in bubble wrap has some heavy consequence. it's not something you signed up for, but you unfortunately have to deal with it. you've been tired of them babying you for so long that your biggest dream in life became lonesomeness. to have your own place, where you are free and autonomous, that's the privilege you've planned for since your teen years.

now you have it.

you plan your own doctor's appointments, you pay your own bills, you can walk around in as little clothing as you please, and sing in the shower without anyone hearing.

it didn't make the conflicting feelings go away, though. you still think about them all the time, of course glad that you aren't under their control anymore, but also nervous.

what if they were right?

what if you are just as incapable as they think?

but you're fairly confident in the ways you prove them wrong. you aren't a recluse, you head out regularly and you can handle your responsibilities easily.

their more unkind or patronising words about their fears for your safety ring in your ears all the time when the house is quiet.

washing the dishes, cleaning the floors, doing the laundry . . . the space is quiet enough for their negativity to infiltrate.

you toss the week's undergarments into your machine, only realising it seems emptier than usual. you're two pairs of panties short.

now distracted from your mini existential crisis, you reach into the hamper to double check that you didn't miss anything. you sort through your piles again, and still can't find them.

it's just odd.

every day is the same, you take your dirty clothes and add them to the hamper immediately after taking them off. they can't just be floating around somewhere in the home, but you rush through your bedroom and bathroom anyway.

nothing, can't find them anywhere. everything's tidy.

so, a couple pairs of underwear magically disappeared . . . it's nothing serious. they can't have gone far, they'll probably turn up soon.

once everything is hanging on the clothesline and your body is warmed, even a little exhausted by the sun, you have a lie down in the grass to finish a book.

something that really enticed you about this house was the backyard, and specifically this large oak tree you like to sit beneath. you've considered planting an apple tree or two next to it, though maybe all that work will come a few months down the line, once you're more settled.

the oak provides a nice shade and the serene, pretty sound of rustling leaves when a breeze picks up. all you needed to do was set down a blanket and add a few decorations into the garden. it's meditative, and for someone who was once confined to the four walls of your childhood bedroom as your only peace in this world, it's easily become one of your favourite things about your new home. it's like a dream come true, something you never even considered having.

you rest on your stomach, legs hanging in the air as you turn pages and let yourself fall into the fantasies of the author, but something stops you from getting too deep into it. your mind can't fully rest, you can't surrender to the fictional world. something feels off, you've felt like you're on tenterhooks since taking a break from your chores because—

well, you don't know why?

the tree feels so tall from down here, the fence around the yard does too. despite this, it doesn't feel all that private, not the way that it should. the urge to look at your surroundings for something keeps pressing at you.

it's almost like you're being watched. if you didn't know better, you'd say you were. but who would do such a thing, and how? your neighbours are good people.

perhaps it's mom's voice in my head, you think to yourself. she was overly worried about you being on your own, and, could it be that somewhere you have internalised this? that she has made you second guess yourself?

it could be that overbearing 'concern' of your family that has made you feel this way, as you still haven't adjusted to life without their overprotective squabbling. doing things that would get you a lecture in the family home still give you anxiety.

you scoff at the idea, realising it's stupid to think it's anything else. that's exactly it: you feel like you're going to get in trouble.

you roll over and stand up, deciding to head inside and put these anxious feelings to rest. though you think for a mere second that you spot a flash of auburn over the wood barring you from ellie's yard, but you let it go. it's nothing but paranoia.

the truck's engine rumbles as ellie idles at the lights just outside the workshop, her tiring shift over finally. her arms are covered in black grease, one hand resting on the bottom of her open window. at last, she thinks, i can see my girl again.

without you, nothing matters. it's a miracle ellie's good at what she does, because work is a blur nowadays. if she's not with you, she's thinking of you. and if you aren't in her thoughts or her dreams, then she's not living.

this morning, ellie experienced something that made her feel more alive than ever, yet at the same time, it was like she was dying. her heart felt like it was going to explode in some gross, gory manner, it was palpitating so fast. she didn't know what to do—to hide, or to stay right there and keep seeing what she saw?

she was almost late for work.

she'd been half-assing breakfast when she turned around and caught a glimpse of you through your kitchen window. maybe you hadn't realised she could see, with the fence at this part of the house not being tall enough to protect your privacy. it couldn't be intentional. as much as ellie wished you did, you didn't look her way at all. you proceeded with flipping pancakes and dancing around, shaking your hips in little pink panties.

ellie didn't move, didn't even jump when the toaster popped. she stood there, jaw slacked, hands shaking.

"fuuuuuuck," she sighs, shaking her head at the memory. what a sight it was, and she's already sure her boxers are wrecked right now just thinking about it. there are those heart palpitations again, aching her whole chest.

"asshole!" she slams on the brakes just before she can cut someone off on the road, mainly screaming at herself. she runs a rough hand through her hair and realises just how distracted she's been behind the wheel today. it's the second time she's almost gotten into an accident.

both times, she was thinking of you. it's just another one of the ways that you make her feel alive.

so different to her empty house, her dead bedroom, her bitch ex. you have this lighter way about life than samantha. sweeter, cuter, warmer. sam would certainly never be caught dancing around in her panties and cami at breakfast time. but you were.

you are everything to ellie. she can't remember how life felt before you moved next door. it was depressing, it was lonely. but you are her companion now, it's very clear.

she takes you grocery shopping and assists you with tricky things around your home, like building furniture or shelves or moving heavy things—in turn, not only is it improving your home, but it makes her house feel more like a home too. it was so tired, every corner a reminder that she couldn't be loved after samantha left. she was planning to move out until you came along, and now she sees beautiful things everyday.

you make it so easy, too.

all ellie needs to do is head outside, pretend to mess around with her car, and she gets this stunning view of you on all fours in the flowerbed. she can peek over the fence and look at you in your green backyard. and as she has realised today, she can take a look through your windows and see you dressed indecently. of course you're naïve enough to keep the curtains open all day and night . . . it's just another reason to appreciate you and all you have done for her.

she pulls into the street and gnaws at the inside of her cheek, ready to get off as soon as she's home. she needs it bad, so much that she may have to skip greeting you like she usually does and head straight to her bed. she has a couple things with your scent to help her climax, but the novelty's gotten old now.

all she can think about are the baby pink panties you had on this morning.

a day later it's finally grocery day, and ellie will pretend she hasn't been waiting for it all week, but she's buzzing about the way things have been progressing with your relationship.

your hand stays snug in hers around the entire store, you can't pull away even if you wanted to. now, ellie's never done this before, it takes you by surprise somewhat. she's always accepting of your cautious nature and she helps you speak to cashiers. you did confess to her that you seldom feel safe in public, perhaps that's the reasoning behind today's closeness.

still, as much as you want to enjoy it—because it does feel safer, and it actually is lovely to be cared for in such a way—her hand is . . . clammy. her cheeks are rosy the entire time, but aside from this, she's completely nonchalant.

it's good when you can ignore the way it makes your stomach tie itself into knots.

because it's soothing to have a dominant presence beside you. it doesn't matter if it's almost just like how your family had babied you, ellie has better intentions, you know she does. she's protecting you better than they could, having accepted you without question and taken you under her care.

she isn't lax about it, either. when your hand slips out of hers so you can bag some fresh vegetables and add them to your side of the cart, she's quick to lace your fingers together again once you're done.

"wouldn't want you to get lost, darlin'. stay close."

you give her a small nod in response, a shy, bitten smile on your lips.

maybe ellie noticed your hesitancy, because she then asks, "this makes you feel safer, mhm?"

"mhm." you nod again, which satisfies her. you know ellie's a sweetheart, she's not trying to make you small like others have done. something tells you she's genuine, and you really do want to believe that.

her knuckles tighten around the grocery bags she carries when she thinks back to what someone at the store had said to her.

"does your girlfriend need any help packing her bags?"

she didn't correct him. why would she? the clerk clearly knew what a great fit you two would be together. if he can see it, surely you can too.

she's not been this giddy in a long time. ellie's having a really, really good fucking day.

god, you would be such a good girlfriend, wouldn't you? and here ellie is, being a good girlfriend too, helping you carry your shopping in from the car. it's frustrating that you haven't seemed to understand yet that she is yours. life would be easier like that. because ellie would make sure that you were catered for in every way—in a relationship with her, you wouldn't need to know your own name, just hers, and she'd see to your pleasure being prioritised over her own needs at every moment.

she has something else she's been planning all day, further adding to her excitement, and with you putting all of your groceries away, you're distracted enough for her to execute it, finally.

she excuses herself to the bathroom, though she doesn't walk away before waiting to hear your lovely voice call back, "alright!"

she smiles calmly on her way down the pink-walled hallway, but she hangs a left instead of stepping into the bathroom.

in your laundry room, ellie wastes no time before diving into the rattan hamper beside the door. she deposits the two pairs she took last week all the way at the bottom, hoping it will be a little more discreet than if she threw them on top of the pile, and then digs through for a certain pair that's been on her mind since yesterday morning.

finally, she pulls out the pink cotton and lets out a sigh of relief. the coast is still clear, so she takes a moment to admire them. she rubs her thumb over the little bow in the centre, and it's like she's taken a hit below the belt immediately. her clit throbs impatiently as she raises the fabric to her nose for a sniff, and then you call her name.

"ellie, is everything okay down there?"

her breath stutters and she shoves the panties into her back pocket, forcing out a response. "yeah! i'll be out in a sec!"

ellie really did want to wait until the evening to do this, but she can't. she slams the door closed behind herself, throws her keys on the kitchen island, and hops two stairs at a time as she reaches for the stolen item in her pocket.

it's just disgusting and she does know that, but she can't help herself. something about the grossness adds to it for her.

she holds the panties to her nose while shuffling out of her jeans and chokes on a whimper, one deeply pained and suffering, because fuck, why can't you see how much she needs you yet? how much longer is she going to have to settle for the lingering taste of pussy on your worn panties? she needs it from the fucking source. it is pleasing, sure, and she is so grateful you're too stupid to notice she's taking them—but what wouldn't she do to worship your pussy with her tongue?

she sinks into her bed, trying to think back to the way you looked when you were making breakfast yesterday. yeah, that's good. she imagines walking up, wrapping herself around you. her hand slides under your waistband, and your tummy shivers. ellie circles her clit with calloused fingertips, wondering how you'd've reacted to her doing the same to you. your pancake batter would be long forgotten, she'd pin you against the wall and plunge her fingers deep inside.

she hasn't gotten laid in so long. that's why this hurts so much more, she thinks. she doesn't know what she'd want to do first with you. you're so shy, probably so untouched. would she have to be gentle with your pussy? she doesn't even know how you'd sound. maybe she should try to peek through your windows more. she'd catch more things, she wouldn't have to wonder what your naked body looks like. maybe she wouldn't have to wonder how you'd sound when you feel good . . .

what if she caught you touching yourself?

"fucking— oh, fuck," ellie gasps, her shaking fingers pressing harder, pushing her own wetness back inside herself. "i w-wanna make her come. so bad."

what if you had toys? probably not—maybe she should buy some for you, just in case. she silences her ugly whining with the taste of your panties, eyes rolling back as she sucks the fabric into her mouth.

maybe she'll buy a strap in your favourite colour. that would be cute, and when she finally gets to fuck you, you'll see just how much she loves you, how much she's waited for this.

and that's what pushes her over the edge. thinking about rutting her hips into yours, how your little hands would grab at her and you'd probably sob her name, that's what does it.

she's stuck there panting for a few moments, turning her hand to see how her release shines over her digits.

one day, that'll be your essence all over her, running down her slender wrist.

one day.

if she weren't such a coward.

it is so freeing to wear what you like when you like, and do what you like when you like.

this is your home, the most comfortable place you have ever known. as the time passes, the more you love it.

but you don't know that she's always watching.

ellie has never been happier before. you curb the loneliness, you fill that empty space in her heart that samantha had left. that's your true home, right there in her heart.

and she really loves it when you invite her in on a warm summer's day for a glass of water and a break from mowing the lawn to watch some tv.

"blowing off his date for that was definitely worth it, that's a big stack," ellie comments, pointing to the meal in front of the actor. "you love pancakes, don't you? you always have them."

it's a ridiculous question but it makes you pause. "how do you know i eat pancakes so much?"

a small line forms between ellie's brows. fuck. she doesn't let show any wobbliness or panic, but yeah, it hurts when you act like she isn't supposed to know things like this.

"you told me. you have them everyday, don't you?"

"oh . . . did i?" you tilt your head.

"you did." ellie's somehow made her way closer to you, wedging you between herself and the arm of your couch, her hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave a mark. she wants to hit herself so hard for almost getting caught, but thank god you're a good girl, and you believe her instantly, so it's not as huge of an issue as she first thought it'd be.

"sorry, i must have forgot," you murmur, a slightly nervous smile on your face. you stare down at her hand on your leg, her grip so tight that it's starting to hurt. "ouch."

she ignores your mumbling, focusing back on the tv. the actors on screen make a joke, a laughter track playing.

you tell yourself it's okay, ellie's probably had a tiresome day working in the yard or her truck is having problems, and she's just frustrated. she'll be her normal self again tomorrow.

ellie is always distracted now.

being in love is the most fun a girl can have.

to her pleasure, you seem to always indulge her without knowing. you barely wear anything at home, always some kind of small nightie or a top and some panties. there's always a pair of knee high socks on your feet, and you're so blissfully unaware of your surroundings that you never spot her wandering eyes.

she thinks about it all the time. the only time she doesn't is when you're right in front of her, because even a really dull conversation with you is awe-striking to ellie. you have such a beautiful way of experiencing the world.

"agh, you know what is really frustrating me?" you say, "i've got some kinda curse in my house, all my underwear keeps disappearing on me."

wait—

"and it's always my favourite ones," you complain, a big pout forming on your lips. "they're so expensive, too. i just have no idea where they could have gone. nobody else comes into the house, and i've searched everywhere."

fuck. ellie's whole body is tense. it seems you're actually not as stupid as she thought—with love and affection, of course—you did notice that somehow your clothing is going missing.

"shit, r-really?" ellie chuckles, rubbing behind her neck. she's just playing it cool for now, trying not to think about how fucked she is. "you're sure you haven't, like, misplaced them or anything?"

"i'm pretty sure," you reply, nipping your bottom lip between your teeth. "it's been months since this started happening, i'm starting to get scared."

"no, no, no, there's nothing to be scared of, darlin'." ellie sends you a soft smile. she snakes her arm around you, palm resting on the small of your back. "it's not like someone could be taking them. i'm sure you just lost 'em, and they'll pop up soon, alright?"

"yeah," you whisper. you uncross your arms to reciprocate the hug, and ellie pushes you up closer, so that your chests are flush against each other. "thanks for that, i'm probably overreacting a bit."

but were you?

two days later, all six pairs of missing panties are back in the bottom of your hamper.

there was something inherently weird about how ellie responded to your concerns earlier. she seemed sort of taken aback by it. she seemed almost upset with you? she'd been a little bit short with you during and after that conversation, even when she was comforting you.

and then they reappeared.

hugging ellie that day made your body feel like it was going to burst with excitement. it felt nice, she really is a wonderful neighbour and you like how she makes you feel.

you don't want to be feeling sceptical in this way. you want to let this go.

maybe it was a misunderstanding. what would ellie do with your underwear of all things? that's how you know you're being silly right now.

it's underwear. she didn't take your underwear.

now you feel horrible for ever thinking she would do something like that.

"mmh, so fucking good."

ellie loves you, she loves how gorgeous you are, how sweet you are, she's not shy to appreciate you and how you've changed her life since moving in. she's learned so much about you, but god, something she's never known until now? you can bake.

"they're good?"

"so good. can i have another?"

"mhm!" you hold out the tray of brownies, letting ellie pick. she chooses a corner piece, arguably the best, with a delectable, crusty exterior, but soft and fudgy inside. you quickly take the can of whipped cream sitting on the coffee table and spray a big helping on top for her.

she's even more enamoured now. you are exactly what ellie has been dreaming of for years since her ex left. a girlfriend who is calm, cute, and understanding. you run to her, rather than away from her.

when the power cut and you weren't sure what to do, you were knocking on her door in tears, worried you had done something wrong and needed her help to fix it. it was so sweet—of course, she reassured you it was not your fault and you hadn't broken anything, you simply needed to check the breaker box.

when your parents called and chewed you out, made you scared that you had put yourself in danger since leaving them, you couldn't help but run to ellie. with all the strange things happening around the home it felt so true that you should never have left the nest. and something about needing ellie in that moment made you feel terrible. it was like confirmation that you would never truly be an independent adult, just running from them and into her. but ellie comforted you, she held you in her lap while you cried, and she let you stay overnight so you knew you'd be safe.

these things excite ellie.

this is her girl, hers who will always need her. if things keep going this way, one day you'll need her in the ways she wants you to most. soon, you'll need her to touch your body. soon, you'll need her to be your provider, and you will be pampered. you'll be trapped.

you might like it. she thinks so, anyway.

you wouldn't call her clingy or controlling. you wouldn't take your shit and walk away while she cried on her knees. you wouldn't interact with anyone else, because you don't have to; she's got you, she can do it all for you, she's the only one you need.

sam didn't understand that like you do.

it's clear to ellie that you really do get it, even if it hasn't clicked for you yet. these brownies were made with lots of love.

"you have some cream on your face," you say softly, grabbing a napkin to clean her. it's gentle and ellie sits there silently as you do, but her eyes bore into you scarily sharp.

she's very intense.

always has been. though, right now it's made you deeply confused.

ellie makes you feel extremely nice inside. your heart aches and your stomach flips every time she's with you. even when you think of her, this happens. especially when you think about the ways in which she confidently touches you a little too low or a little too firmly.

you've never been in love before, but this kind of feels like the way people explain it. when you went on your first date with a girl in high school, what you felt then was only a mere fraction of what you feel when you're with ellie.

you aren't impulsive, rather very controlled, usually. but when her eyes flick down to your lips you can't stop yourself from just giving her a shot.

and ellie is truly astounded by this move.

but, why would she ever refuse this?

it's everything she's ever wanted.

you let her do so much and she is so overwhelmed by it now, that all she wants to do is see how far you'd let her go. it's so, so tempting to wrap her hand around your throat and kiss you until your breath runs out, but she realises that may be a little too much for now.

after all, this is just the first of many kisses to come!

there is still plenty of time for more kisses. this has clearly been a lot for you, who can't stop stuttering and fidgeting now that you have pulled away.

"i don't know why i did that," you murmur, heat rushing into your face. "i'm sorry."

"why sorry? that was perfect." ellie rubs your knee, noticing the way you suddenly pull your thighs together, so tense.

"i— i don't know, never mind. not sorry, then." you smile shyly. "i'm going to put the brownies away—you don't want any more?"

"i'm good for now," ellie says. she's still checking out the way your thighs have squished together, and when you bend down to pick up the tray of brownies, she spots a glimpse of your panties.

now red-faced, ellie looks down at her hands and smirks. did kissing her make you wet?

she makes a mental note of the white panties. she's going to take them tomorrow.

and she's not giving these ones back.

nothing much came of that kiss.

things continued as they always had.

you still find yourself interested, though hesitant.

your panties are still going missing, and now, a single bra has even been lost too.

your concerns about feeling watched remain unfounded still. it must be pure paranoia, and it always feels extra worse after taking a call from your mother.

it's lucky that you have ellie to soothe you. she's even proposed the idea of getting some cameras and pointing them at your place to help you feel safer, and the idea of that is very relieving.

since that happened, you've relaxed a lot more. no matter what happens, ellie will be there, and she will protect you. she's your idea of safety.

you wake up drowsy from a nap in the backyard, stretching out your arms before sitting up.

when your eyes adjust, they widen, because your uncomfortable gut feeling has finally been confirmed. without a doubt, you were being watched over the fence, but is it something you want to believe?

ellie would never do this.

you pull the hem of your dress down to cover your knees, hands shaking as you do. of course ellie disappeared the second you made eye contact with her, but you stare at the wooden fence with a deep frown, your chest rising and falling hastily.

"els? was that you? is that a prank?" you yell out.

there is no response but the oak tree's leaves whistling in the wind.

maybe you were dreaming or something. you just keep thinking it all over, and no, seriously, why would ellie be the one behind all of this nonsense? guilt starts to flood in, your stomach feels hollow.

it's easier to believe that you're getting all into your head about this, so that's what you'll do.

and ellie is just glad that you'll always place your trust in her—she has you very well trained—but she can't quite forget the way your eyes looked just now, all glassy and teary, and it's all her fault.

𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆'𝒔   𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆   . . .   ౨ৎ 　this is a trope that gets done sm, i knowww, but i luv it so so so much i wanted to write something for it n give my own take on it . . . i luv pathetic freak ellie. like so bad. feels like i haven't written dark!ellie for a minute. i missed it n i needed to get back to it, although i was kinda nervous again. i rly rly love this au so if i can think of anything else i may do a part 2 or extra content ! but that's only if i think of an idea for it <3 if anyone has any ideas too, def let me know . . . hehehe <333

🏷️ @valeisaslut @eriiwaiii2 @ellieshothousewife @piercedome @therealhexstrap @windedpuppy @heyimrye @rhian88 @g4ys0n @yoosohh @marvelwomenarehot0 @l0veylace @ssijht @mikaelii @blurveil @lottiesultraviolence @satellitespinner @vahnilla @doeyedbambi @gold-dustwomxn @chl0rine17 @elsdolly

[candieddcouture]

there ain’t enough sub!ellie i promise y’all i can top that 🙂‍↕️

[kayleeeknee]

"x reader" then proceeds to add a name??? Like who the fuck is Sarah???

[writtenbysolya-deactivated20260]

☕ ✦ ᴍʏ ʙᴀʀɪꜱᴛᴀ!ᴇʟʟɪᴇ ʜᴄ'ꜱ

barista!ellie who bullshits rude customers

"latte, with oat milk, make it double" a woman in her late 40's came in, cutting through a line, ellie just stares at her blankly "..."

"well? hurry up! don't have all day y'know" the woman stats, tapping her cheap press on nails on the table impatiently

"...latte with oat milk- oh sorry ma'am, we ran out of oat milk" ellie said, making her tone sound as uninterested as possible

"well look can you check? i'm sure there's-"

"sure! let me just check the back!" she interrupts, her voice condescendingly cheerful as she strides through the back storage and just stands there for a half a minute and will come back to the ride customer and say "yea, sorry we don't have oat milk"

barista!ellie who doesn't like pinky customers and will internally crash out if they make too much adjustments to their order

barista!ellie who has been working there since she was 17, first helped joel with the design and then literally begged joel to let her work there

"joel-"

"no"

"...wha- i haven't even said anything yet!"

"still a no"

best to say ellie annoyed the hell out of Joel and eventually he gave in and lets her work there

barista!ellie who isn't really much of a coffee drinker herself but she likes to make coffee, especially with making those latte arts

barista!ellie who sticks pins on her apron

barista!ellie who notice you coming in everyday and every once in a while stay to do some catching up with something on your laptop

barista!ellie who who finds you really pretty and wants to learn more about you but she's shy and doesn't want to come off as a creep

barista!ellie who starts off slow and starting small talk

"...morning, the usual?" she asks, trying to mask her embarrassment and slight blush with a casual demeanour

barista!ellie who admires you from afar but never really talked to you because again, she doesn't want to seem like a creep, sometimes she messes up and order because she's either thinking about you or looking at you

barista!ellie who's friend, jesse, has had it with ellie being a total shy freak around you(and also getting sick of ellie yapping about you during breaks)

so, as ellie's best friend, he personally walked up to you while you were sitting at your usual spot "hey, sorry to interrupt but my co-worker right there," jesse turns to ellie and points at her, in which ellie immediately notices and she swears, she felt her soul leave her body when you made eye contact with her

jesse continues speaking "she has a fat crush on you and wants to ask for your number"

you didn't reply for a minute before quickly writing down something on a piece of paper and then giving it to jesse, he grinned at you before walking away

barista!ellie who immediately pulled jesse at the back the moment he gave her the piece of paper with your number on it, she cursed jesse and complained about almost dying on the spot(but she can't really deny the fact that she's happy that she has your number now)

barista!ellie who blushes from her cheeks to the tip of her ears when she saw you got up to leave but then before leaving you made eye contact with you, it was brief but she saw the small smile on your face when you left

barista!ellie who texted you right after her shift, apologizing for her stupid co-worker for approaching you like that

barista!ellie who waited for your reply, but all of the sudden, during her day off, when she was doing the most mundane thing ever, she receives a text from you

"SORRY FOR NOT REPLYING BACK HUHU, i was thinking of a response so i don't seem rude"

she jumped in joy when she finally saw that you replied, she immediately jumped into her bed to text you there

ᴀ/ɴ: im currently sick so i'm temporarily not gonna post

[ryosbaby-deactivated20260215]

man fuck ice if you think otherwise fuck you too

[tamsanni]

you hear the door open, and close just a second after it had opened. ellie was home. shes been out on patrol all day, clearing out infected. she was supposed to be back around lunch time but that was quick to turn into dinner time and so on. because now that she was finally home it was just pass midnight.

you were quick to wake from your sleep and shuffle up into a sitting position. you look over to the door to make out the moving figure in the dark, but nothing came to view; eyes still sewn together from sleep. so, you bring your hands up to your face and rub at your eyes still they feel light and rid of crust that was stuck to your lashes.

“ellie…” you yawn softly. when you once more try to focus your eyes on her figure you can see that shes making her way over to you. she sits on the bed right next to you. you can smell the outside on her. the damp stench infiltrates your nostrils; with the undertones of rotting flesh.

“hey,” ellie’s says gently, barely above a whisper. there’s a small smile hung over her lips. “go back to sleep.”

you reach your hand up to her face to hold her cheek. and you close the distance between the two of you. tangling your lips with hers, it was soft like velvet; silk against her lips, cracked against yours. the kiss ended the second it began, nothing that would make you want to do it again, just a silent ‘i missed you’.

you pull away from her to move your hand down to give her forearm a slight squeeze, but when you do ellie flinches and lets out a hiss. you can make out an agitated expression on her face and discomfort in here eyes.

“you okay?” you ask, worry filled your voice.

“yeah,” she’s hesitant for a second. “just fell, that’s all. don’t worry about it.” but how can you not?

“let me see.” you ask, but it comes out a bit demanding. but nonetheless she obliged and took her sweater off. and as she did so you stretched your body over to the nightstand to turn on the lamp. once you’ve returned to your original position you set your eyes on ellie, now wearing just her bra.

you observe her upper body and see all the few small cuts and the bruise. it was big, the bruise, one she probably gotten from a big fall. it looked awful on her pale skin, move defined and darker.

“ellie it look like it hurts a lot.” your face is scrunched like you can feel her pain.

“i’m fine,” she’s hesitant grabs your chin. “i promise.” she presses a longer kiss to your lips then the one before that you left on her lips. when she pulls away, she was hoping not to see that despair in your eyes. but she still find that same expression.

you gently lift her arms and set your gaze upon the bruise there. “don’t lie to me.” you’re more stern now.

ellie knows you’re serious, and you know she means well. but it hurts you so much to see her in pain, and it hurts her that you worry so much. she’s doing this for your own good, too much worry isn’t good for one. “i’m sorry.”

“i just don’t want you to worry this much about a silly bruise” she finally tells you truthfully.

“but i do. you know i hate to see you so hurt.” you tell her, and there’s sympathy in your eyes, and it looks like you’re about to cry.

“i know, i know. but im here, in one piece. that’s all that matters.” she reassures you, still looking at you even if your eyes were still focused on here arm. “i know i can be clumsy, i’ve been out on patrol together, you’ve seen how careful i am. i never purposely put myself in danger, you know that.”

you finally decided to look up at her. and there’s a sort of relief on your face, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “i’m overreacting, im sorry.” is all you say, before you drift your eyes back to her bruised arm.

“no you’re not, i get that you’re worried, and i can’t stop you from that, but i’m okay,” she pauses to cup your cheek. “okay?” and for a moment you look up at her, and the two of you stare deep into each others eyes.

and instead of giving her a verbal answer you press down the most softest kiss to the bruise. you can feel her twitch under your mouth, but she lets you stay there. this is how you say you love her and that you trust her. words can be complicated sometimes, so letting affection and gentle touch tell her how you feel is less complicated. so, ellie lets you do that.

“i love you too.”

[hereticalism]

watch out # sub!ellie, blurb, nsfw, smut, lemon

can we talk about sub!ellie who's so fucking needy it's almost annoying? she's loud, she's whiny, and she would literally do anything to use your tongue, ride your thigh, or fuck herself dry on your fingers. if you decide to tease for a second longer than she'd like she starts crying and mewling about how "she'll be so good" if you just touch her. oh, and she definitely loves taking strap. there's just something about you completely filling her to the brim and the squelching of her cunt as your silicone cock moves in and out then back in her again. when she cums its your name that she screams, and you who she rolls her eyes back for.