lau ☾

19 <3

[elsdolly]

haiiii this is my blog intro <3 i made this account to post my writing (˶𖦹﹏𖦹˶)

౨ৎ you can call me lau! i go by she/her

౨ৎ men and -16 plz dniii

౨ৎ i <3 sevika and ellie

౨ৎ english is not my first language!

౨ৎ i'm very uncomfortable with personal questions! pls don't ask my real name, bday, location, etc etc etc ❤︎ ive had bad experiences with privacy invasion before ! thank uu

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

reblog if you’re a sick fuck

[abbystanaccount]

experimenting with a black top on Abby

[somebitchprobably]

OH MY GODDDD

[ckalkal]

yeahhhh, she only gets hotter with each playthrough sighhhhh

[cupcakesyndromes]

remembering when ppl were making trans ellie fics and then the fandom got weirdly hostile about it to the point people just stopped posting them. getting cummed in is hot and sometimes I want girls doing it cause girls are hot

[starduszt]

diossss cuando ya ni quedan excusas para seguir de joda: POR EL INDIO !!!!!!

[almadellie]

♡₊˚　──── 00: Ellie conveniently ignores the deal she'd kept with Abby for years. Abby wouldn't miss it for anything in the world— not when your eyes begged her to undress herself and put on a show for you.

♡₊˚　──── cw: 1.9k ◞ Abby and Ellie are your best friends ◞ petnames (doll, baby, angel) ◞ fingering ◞ pussy eating (r!receiving) ◞ voyeurism ◞ a lil scent kink if you squint ◞ you are responsible for the content you consume ◞ comments and reblogs are appreciated !

୨ৎ Ellie draped her arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer as you waited for your Uber.

"Such a beautiful doll," she whispered against your ear. Her free hand caressed your waist, her lips traced your neck. The air was cool against your skin, but she managed to keep you warm with the smallest contact.

"Wait till we get home," you warned as her fingers teased the hem of your skirt.

"Why?" She groaned, squeezing your thigh.

You stayed silent. Wasn't being on the street enough of an answer?

"Whatever you say." She sighed, leaving the waistband of your panties alone.

On the ride to her apartment, your lips didn't leave hers. You bit her lips, her neck, her shoulder... Wherever your tongue ran across, she tasted like beer. You liked it anyways.

When you opened the door to the flat, it was silent. If Abby was too tired to go out—which happened once in a blue moon— she would wait for you on the couch, reading a book, sometimes watching a movie. Didn't seem like the case this time, all lights were off too.

The clacking of your heels felt deafeningly loud as it echoed across your apartment. Nonetheless, you walked towards Ellie's room as silently as possible— when you passed Abby's, she was asleep, to your disappointment and Ellie's relief.

This felt wrong, twisted. How could you do this without at least warning Abby? You'd seen the way she looked at you just as you'd seen the way Ellie did... So why did only Ellie get to have you?

"Gotta be silent, baby," she warned as she carefully placed you on her bed. Your legs unconsciously spread for her, she snickered at the view and kneeled in front of you. She looked so imposing like this, eyes raking over your frame with a hunger you'd never seen in her before.

Greedily, her calloused hands ran over your body. She squeezed your breasts, your thighs, and your waist, mapping you out like she wanted to memorize you but didn't have enough time to. It felt so good to have her this desperate, to know this was all because of you.

"Been waitin' for years," she rasped out, unzipping your skirt. "You're always teasing me, aren't you?" A small chuckle made its way past her lips.

"You noticed and still took that long?" You questioned with a pout.

She didn't dare to answer. She couldn't tell you the truth— that she was breaking the only rule she was supposed to respect for the sake of her friendship with Abby, and their relationship with you. She couldn't tell you she was a covetous traitor. Instead, she just shrugged.

Reverently, Ellie slid down your tube top to let your tits free. Her reaction was instant— her mouth latched onto your left nipple, tongue flat rubbing against the hardening bud. You gasped, feeling her teeth against you.

"Fuuuck..." You sigh out, voice quivering. Ellie shifts to suction the other one, the cold digit of her index rubbing the tip of the now lonely nipple, her saliva creating a disgusting, delicious kind of friction that you couldn't get enough of.

She went on and on, switching from one nipple to the other like there were no other places she needed to cover— you were attempting to rub your thighs together to get some sort of satisfaction, but it was useless. At some point, you pulled her back by the hair.

"Enough. Go down." You commanded pettily, tired of the sticky sensation against your panties that wouldn't be relieved no matter how hard you tried.

"Sorry, angel," she mumbled, quickly licking a path down to your lower stomach.

She slid your thong down, taking it off of you and groaning at the sight. She could tell you'd worn it for her, after all you knew what colour she liked to see you in. She instantly pressed her nose against the wet fabric, tongue dragging across its crotch. Her eyes rolled back as she savoured you— your arousal was still warm, and this was just a fraction of what tasting you directly could feel like.

You couldn't help but laugh at her. "Really?" You teased, a small smirk adorning your face.

"Shut up," she muttered defensively, the moonlight catching on the pink that blossomed across her cheeks as she furtively shoved the garment in her back pocket.

You were about to protest when she slid her finger inside you, making you sigh in relaxation, mouth agape. You twitched and squeezed around her as she tortuously slid in and out, just barely enough to make you feel her warm presence inside of you.

She leaned down, removing her finger, and held your hips open. Almost instantly, she latched her mouth onto your cunt, tongue running over your slit and collecting your wetness. She whined against you, the vibration sending shivers across your body. You whined too, louder and more insistent than her— it earned you a warning glare that didn't do much more than turn you on and cause you to moan again.

Your hands flew to her hair, you pulled the soft locks to control her movements better— up and down, she gladly followed your lead as you pressed her more insistently against your folds.

When you let go of her, giving her the freedom to do whatever she wanted to, she focused on sucking your nub insistently, drawing out a sharp cry out of you.

"Shut up!" She hissed, smacking your thigh harshly. As it caused an even louder sound than your voice had, she flinched at the poor choice.

"But you're so good Els..." You sighed out, not caring to lower your tone. You didn't want to, not when there was the smallest chance of Abby waking up to this.

"She will hear us," she insisted, hands gripping your thighs painfully as you tried your center to meet her mouth again.

You frowned, deciding to stay silent at least for a while, and covered your mouth.

Her wet muscle worked over your heat, invading your tight hole as her nose drew delicious circles over your clit. You couldn't help but squirm, even if your hips were forced down against the sheets. The mattress hit the wall with each movement you made, but Ellie wouldn't notice.

After a few intentional hits against the wall, Abby's eyes snapped open almost instantly. Four in the morning the clock in her nightstand read, yet Ellie was here fucking god knows who and not even deigning to be silent.

She weighed her options: interrupting and getting ignored, or taking advantage of the disadvantageous situation. With a reluctant sigh, she let her hand travel downwards. She didn't even bother to slide her pants off— the aftermath would be less embarrassing if she could forget as quickly as possible that she had done this in the first place.

She traced slow circles over her clit, the nub poking insistently against the fabric. there was a growing wet patch over her crotch, making it even more pleasurable. She pressed her ear against the wall, hearing Ellie's groans while her hand reached for the vibrator she hid in her pillowcase.

She turned it on, sliding it inside her panties and rubbing her clit up and down.

Ellie didn't catch it, but you did. That low buzzing was impossible to ignore, and so was the gasp you heard coming out of her mouth.

You pictured Abby fucking herself as Ellie's tongue glided over your clit in deep, circular motions and two of her fingers pushed in and out of your hole.

"A- Ellie," you moaned out, biting your tongue as a punishment— you almost let Abby's name slip.

She turned the vibrator off when she heard it. That sweet, familiar tone she knew all too well. Slow and careful, her hands shaking with dread, she walked over to Ellie's door. You hadn't even closed it. She peeked inside, mouth agape when she confirmed who was in Ellie's bed.

Ellie had broken the deal.

Don't make a move on her.

It was the simplest of commands— one meant to keep their friendship stable and not fuck things up with you, either.

Of course Ellie would be the slut to break it.

Abby was about to storm in, she really wanted to step in and yank Ellie away from you. But then your eyes trailed over to the door and your gaze fixed on her, the sluttiest moan leaving your lips, and she knew she was done for— especially when your hips grinded faster against Ellie's face all while looking at her instead of the redhead.

Her clit twitched with the unbearable urge to do something, her orgasm still close enough to reach. Even if she wasn't participating, there was still something going on between your eyes and hers, right? This wasn't weird at all. She slid her pants off, not caring about what could potentially happen if Ellie saw her. Then came her panties, letting in sight her untamed bush. She felt like an exhibitionist, one you would've thrown a hundred dollar bill her way if you had one.

Your tiny whimpers after each little thing she did only boosted her ego, and after a quick glance at Ellie— who had her eyes closed, too lost in your essence to notice anything— you frantically signalled Abby to take her tank top off.

She obeyed instantly, throwing it towards you. It fell right in your face, your eyes opening wide at the audacity. Ellie's head snapped up at the rustle, but the tank top was already under your head. "Why'd you stop?" You prompted, pushing her towards your heat again.

You sighed when she started working over your clit again, glaring at Abby. She wore a triumphant smirk that only widened when you brought the tank top closer to your nose, whiffing her pure scent with a groan. She smelled like heaven, you were sure there was no purest thing you could experience but her.

One of Abby's hands went to her nipple, the other was buried between her legs already. Even after ruining her orgasm earlier, she was incredibly close, holding her fat clit between her fingers and rubbing it up and down, her wetness serving as lube.

You held Ellie's hair again, her scalp already burning with how much you'd been doing that tonight. You moved her head in small, quick motions, drawing out small cries from her as she lapped up at your pussy and shook her head from side to side the way you wanted her to. She was so good it actually hurt— your clit itched with the urge to cum.

"Els I'm cumming!" You cried out, Ellie sped up her movements as her fingers pushed in and out of your sopping heat even faster. Your juices started dripping out of you into the mattress, your walls clenching around her.

You turned your head to look at Abby, her fingers curling inside of herself as her digits messily rubbed her clit. Her mouth opened agape in a silent cry you wished to swallow, legs shaking as her orgasm washed over her.

You cried out a string of curses and repetitions of Ellie's name, spasming as she held you down against the bed. You kept pleading— whether it was for Ellie to keep going, stop, or for Abby to come beside you, you didn't know.

As you came down from your high, Abby observed you, drawing out the end of this moment, when she'd have to retreat to her room and admit Ellie had done you first.

"Where are you lookin' at?" Ellie murmured softly, following your gaze until her eyes set on Abby's. "You fucking..."

ℒu's note: okok let's hope it doesn't flop :3 if u guys like this i may write more parts bcs this was so fun to make... justice for abby omg my beautiful baby that smells like rainbows and glitter and happiness

[elsdolly]

i will kill myself my lighter doesn't work💔

[bniue]

˓ 𝑐𝑤 ﹕ minors dni ! wolf!sevika , bunny!reader , petplay , praising n degradation , strap n vibrator usage , overstim , needy n desperate reader , breeding n being in heat mentioned . .

˓ 𝑤𝑐 ﹕ 1.2k

˓ 𝑎𝑛 ﹕ do i wanna be reader or sevika . . hm i think both pls ! this fic is very important to me cause this is literally me in both forms - also this isn’t entirely proofread i just did this for fun cause hm ya n how do people find interactive mutuals on here . . AND i just dropped one hundred!!!! dollars on contacts for me n my dollie , n there’s a bunny skin in outlast i rlly rlly want . . pfft ;< somebunny act this out with me rn !!

˓ 𝑠𝑑𝑡 ﹕ @dolirust

bunnie , that’s what sevika calls you.

everyone says that bunnie n wolf hybrids could never get along , that prey n predators have nothing in common. that’s until sevika met you , n something in her changed.

she adored you the moment she laid her eyes on you. oh how she loves your little ears , the way they perk up whenever there’s a loud noise . . n your baby pink nose that twitches whenever you’re excited , how you give her the biggest doe eyes when you want something . . you’re very easy to please.

well , thats until breeding season comes around , then you’re rarely ever satisfied.

every time you’re in heat , it’s always the perfect time for hunting. sevika will be out for almost all hours of the day , leaving you in the secluded wood cabin hidden by trees n vines , all alone.

♡

you knew by your hyper-receptiveness that it was happening , n you desperately needed any kind of relief.

sevika was gone , n she more than likely wouldn’t be back until nightfall.

it started with simply rubbing your thighs together , but it wasn’t enough.

you moved to using your fingers , circling over your aching clit repeatedly. you came a few times , but it didn’t fulfill that growing desire in the pit of your stomach.

your little whimpers n cries filled the room as you continued touching yourself , begging like a pathetic little thing for sevika to come back.

you were useless without her , n you didn’t know how much longer you could wait for her return.

♡

the sun had already set , n there you were , on the bed , ass up , hand between your thighs. your little bunnie tail twitched as you chased your high , tears n whines soaking into the blanket beneath you.

you didn’t even hear sevika walk through the door , her boots thumping against the wooden floorboards.

the bedroom door was unknowingly wide open , giving her a perfect view of you the little show you’re putting on.

‘someone couldn’t wait f’me.’ she leans against the doorframe , her voice making you freeze. you’ve always been so timid n shy , so easily startled you can barely move.

you pull your wet hand away from your throbbing cunt , sitting up slowly to look at her.

‘awh baby , look atchu.’ she walks over , her thick finger hooking underneath your chin. you throw your arms around her , nuzzling into her chest. she smells of wood , cigars , n animal blood , something you’ve grown used to.

‘does my bunnie need to be taken care of?’ your big eyes meet hers , giving her the most desperate nods in response. she chuckles , signalling for you to lie down. you oblige , your obedience fuelling sevika’s desire even more.

her hands meet her belt , the metal clinking as she undoes it. you can see the silicone pushed against her stomach through her boxers , the sight making you even more hot n bothered.

she pulls you to the edge of the bed , lifting up your oversized shirt to give her more access. you’re soaked n sensitive , slick sticking to your thighs.

‘such a desperate little bunnie huh?’ you whine softly , watching her through those glossy eyes of yours. she slides her boxers down , her cock resting in her hand. little noises escape from you as you forgot how big she is , n you wonder if you’ll even be able to take it.

she leans forward , shoving two fingers into your throat. you choke , tears already pricking your dollie eyes. ‘that’s it , atta girl.’ you mumble against her , drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

when she knows you’ve had enough , she pulls them out. your spit trails from your lips to her fingers , her hand then stroking the silicone. once it’s wet enough , she guides it across your pretty cunnie , rubbing the tip through your folds n tapping it against your clit.

‘mmph!’ you whine , feeling your little hole tense before she’s even entered you. she’s amused by your soft cries , knowing you’re needing her to breed you so bad.

‘you gonna be good n take the whole thing?’ how pathetic you are nodding so quickly. she chuckles , lining up the tip with your leaky hole. she slowly slides it inside of you , groaning as if she can actually feel it. you mewl as you feel yourself stretch around her , your tummy bulging with her size.

‘fuck . .’ she hums , beginning to thrust into you at a slow pace. she immediately hits your sweet spot , your eyes rolling back as you babble n whine. ‘ngh- mmph . .’ she could listen to you all day , watching you get progressively more dumbed out on her.

‘listen to you , so fuckin’ whiny.’ she picks up speed , ramming into you harder n faster with every passing second. her hand pushes down on your tummy , pulling a squeal out of you. ‘yeah? takin’ all of me so well. my little fuck toy , so easy f’me.’

‘mm- s’too much! mmf . . s-sensitive ..’ your hand holds onto her arm , n her grip around your is hips tight. ‘you can take it , you’re gonna fuckin’ take it.’ her thumb moves to your clit , applying the perfect amount of pressure. you squirm n whine underneath her , the knot in your lower stomach increasing with every thrust.

you’ve been waiting all day for this , so you’re not surprised with how quickly you’ve reached your peak. ‘mmph! m’gonna- cum . . p-please!’ your pleas mix with pretty sobs , your tear soaked cheeks catching the dim light. she hums in approval , groaning as you tighten around her. ‘such a good fuckin girl . .’ you shake n writhe as you ride out your high , soaking her length with your cute little mess.

she pulls out of you slowly n you whine in protest , giving her that precious look you give when you want n need something. ‘naughty little bunnie. never satisfied , hm?’ you shake your head , nose twitching as you bat your eyelashes.

‘hm.’ her large arms swiftly turn you over , pulling your ass up. you let out a little whine , your face pushed into the soft duvet. you hear her rustling around behind you , but you know better than to peek.

‘since you’re such a desperate little thing , you’re gonna use this.’ you look over your shoulder , eyes widening when you see the vibrator. you hum warily with a nod , taking it from her hand. ‘highest setting.’ you feel intimidated by that , but you’re so eager to be fucked till you can’t even think that you simply ignore it.

you spread your legs a little further apart , positioning the toy against your twitching clit. sevika finds her way back inside you , fingers dug into your hips. you turn on the vibrator , clicking twice to the highest setting. your eyes roll back , legs already beginning to shake again.

‘ngh! mmph!’ you drool n babble at the overstimulation , feeling more n more full with every harsh thrust. ‘mhm . . god you’re so tight.’ she groans , chuckling to herself as she fits her entire length inside your dripping little hole.

‘s’much- i- mmph . . agh!’ you’re already fucked senseless , your brain all foggy. ‘awh , my pretty bunnie is all dumbed out already huh?’ you nod , your cotton tail flicking as you reach that addicting high. ‘mmh- s’close . . c-can’t!’

you orgasm for the second time , eyes crossing n legs shaking as sevika helps you ride it out. ‘i- can’t . .’ you whine , which prompts her to pull out. she takes the vibrator from you , shutting it off. ‘you feel better?’ she rubs your thigh , stepping away for a moment to put everything away.

when she’s done , she pulls your shirt back down before gently scooping you up , tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear. ‘mmhm . .’ you hum , nestling against her chest. ‘let’s get my bunnie all cleaned up , hm? then i’ll make you your favourite dinner.’ you smile , holding onto her while she tends to you like the perfect little bunnie that you are.

[whats1ns1deag1rl]

Rendezvous

not proofread, g!p sevika, big clit!abby, threesome, cum eating, rimming, cunnilingus r!receiving, piv sex, making out, handjob sevika!receiving, clitsucking abby!receiving

a lot of you wanted more g!p sevika and big clit!abby x reader, so here is part two!! ignore all typos also

abby shoved you down gently, making sure sevika was ready to catch you before giving the push. you ended up on all fours, head rested on sevika's lap with your ass up for abby to eat you out from behind. abby dove right in, licking and moaning into your pussy, already soaked from the two just toying with you a little.

abby began pumping two fingers in and out of your prepped pussy, making the steady waves of pleasure grow increasingly stronger. you moaned, smushing your cheek against sevika's thigh as her half-hard cock bobbed above your face. you hummed in pleasure, hungrily trying to get your lips on her shaft.

"impatient..." sevika chuckled at your eagerness, helping you reach her cock by guiding it to your mouth. you suckled on the tip before pulling off and licking along the underside. abby's tongue suddenly sped up, flicking back and forth over your clit with a dizzying ferocity. your moans grew more open, breathier and louder as your back arched on instinct.

abby rolled you over onto your back, lifting your hips up to her face and went right back to devouring you. you, in your lust dazed state, took anything you were given. "anything" being sevika's balls hanging over your face. probably your second favourite part right after her glorious cock.

you took one into your mouth, moaning and sucking as you stroked her dick with both your hands, putting your wrists into it as well. sevika hissed and groaned, watching you squirm under her as abby ate you out. sevika put her palm on the back of abby's head, pushing her face deeper into your cunt. abby moaned, pushing her tongue into your soaked hole and swirling it around.

sevika almost let out a gasp of surprise as you moved even further down, licking at the rim of her hole. she tasted so good, like herself. you licked and kissed at her rim, forgetting to stroke her cock for a moment due to how drunk you were on eating her ass. you quickly got back to it, though, and earned a delicious grunt from her.

--------------

abby had you cumming on her tongue in no time, pulling away from your folds with strings of your sticky release connecting her face to your pussy. sevika leaned into abby, licking your release off her face

abby hummed, scooping some of your cum and holding her fingers up to sevika's lips, letting her suck it off of them. "what's she doing down there?" abby asked breathlessly and smiled, leaning down to watch you. she found you between sevika's legs, moaning and whimpering as you kissed at her asshole, doing your best to pleasure her.

"fuck..." abby groaned to herself, reaching down to slowly stroke her fat clit between her thumb and index finger. she looked back to sevika "let me watch you fuck her. make her feel good..." abby said, a slight tinge of pleading in her tone.

but sevika did give her exactly what she asked for.

--------------

sevika fucked you sideways, rubbing tight circles on your clit with her arm snaked around your waist. abby watched, laying beside you two and stroking herself to the pace of sevika's deep thrusts. you couldn't do much more than moan, your eyes half-lidded as sevika pushed her cock in, pulled it out, in, out, in, out, in, out- over and over again, hitting all your sweet spots perfectly each time.

you whined and tried to grab at abby, just watching her fat clit wet with her slick wasn't enough, you had to suck her off too.

thank god abby knew what you wanted and adjusted, bringing her clit to your mouth so you could latch on. and god did you latch on- you sucked on her clit so hard it almost made her see stars. her hips twitched as she bit her lip, her eyes rolling back as you didn't let up your suction, just suckling on her clit hard as fuck.

"she's gonna cum" sevika grunted, feeling how your pussy clenched on her cock, despite being so open and loose for the two women. "inside- cum inside" you mumbled around abby's clit

sevika pumped her release deep inside you with strong spurts, abby cumming all over your face at the same time. abby reached her hand down to play with your clit as well, working with sevika's own hand to make you cum.

the two of them pinched and rolled your clit between their fingers, each on their own turn. what made you finish, though, was the two of them moving down to make out on your clit, sucking on your clit with little intervals of french kissing. you came on both their faces, letting them lick it off of eachother once more...

[puppymouf-deactivated20260111]

"reblog if mutuals can dm you!" my mutuals could kidnap me and i'd be like yay! yayayay yippee woo yeah!!

[imelliesgf]

please do not kidnap me bc i would not enjoy it

[almadellie]

please kidnap me i would enjoy it

[sirsealery]

how do you picture Joel spending Ellie's first birthday without her since they met?

hey ... what the hell is your problem? why would you say this ...

funny enough i was thinking about this exact idea the other day but from ellies perspective. okay here's what i think would happen

joel probably has some kind of present. he's a presents guy, wants to give something to her to make the day special. he tries to make it really nice because he knows she's so mad at him and this won't smooth anything over, but at least maybe she'll say something to him about it or while receiving it, and maybe it will bring her a little bit of joy. he prepares his present, whatever it might be, METICULOUSLY. he spends hours making sure it's polished and perfect, and by the time the day comes it is SPOTLESS. flawless. absolutely perfect. she's going to love it, maybe not to his face but definitely, she'll love it.

he steps outside in the morning to go give it to her. he's psyched up, excited. a birthday present isn't a fix-all, but maybe it can be the start of recovering from months of her absence. he misses her a lot. he starts walking towards the shed, and halfway there he loses his nerve. joel stops, turns around, just heads back into the house.

it stays on his table.

[saintofdecayyy]

I was thinking of a fic of streamer Ellie and basically she is on stream and thought reader is downstairs and called her for water but turns out reader is uh under the stream setup and starts eating Ellie’s pussy

᨞ᣞBreak ᨞⠀{E.W}

summary: you sneak into ellie’s steaming room, hide under her desk and eat her out whilst she tries to stay quiet but ultimately fails

word count: 1.5k

cw: 16+, SEXUAL THEMES, EXPLICIT CONTENT, exhibitionist, hold the moan

the carpet is soft beneath your knees, and you're not entirely sure how you ended up here, tucked away in the cozy darkness under ellie’s streaming desk like some kind of mischievous sprite. above you, her gaming chair creaks slightly as she shifts, and you can hear her voice, bright and animated, chattering away to her chat.

"yeah, yeah, i know i said i’d do a horror game tonight, but I'm thinking maybe we just vibe with some cozy farming sim instead? what do you guys think?"

her bare legs are right there, just inches from your face, and you can see the way her toes curl against the carpet, the little silver anklet catching the RGB glow from her PC. she’s wearing those cute sleep shorts, the ones with the little stars on them that ride up just enough to make your heart do a little flip.

you shouldn't be here. you definitely shouldn't be here while she's live, with thousands of people watching her screen, hanging on her every word. but there's something deliciously thrilling about it, something that makes your pulse quicken and your breath come a little faster.

the thing is, ellie doesn't even know you're here yet.

you’d slipped in while she was in the bathroom, thinking you'd just surprise her, maybe tickle her ankle or something innocent. but now, crouched in this intimate little cave of shadows and possibility, you're struck by a much more wicked idea.

your fingers ghost up her calf, feather-light, barely there. ellie’s voice hitches, just for a second, before she continues reading chat messages. "oh, stardustsam says they want to see me suffer through phasmophobia. you guys are so mean to me!"

you smile in the darkness. she felt that. she knows.

emboldened, you let your hands travel higher, tracing the soft skin of her inner thighs with your fingertips. her legs part, just slightly, just enough, and you hear her breath catch. the chair creaks as she adjusts, and you can practically feel the tension radiating from her body.

"i’m—uh—i’m gonna grab some water real quick," she says, and her voice is already a little breathless. but she doesn't move. doesn’t reach for her water bottle. instead, her hand drops down below the desk, fingers threading through your hair in a gesture that's half-warning, half-invitation.

you press a kiss to her inner thigh, soft and sweet, and feel her shiver.

"actually, you know what? i’m good," she says quickly, her hand tightening in your hair. "let’s just... let's just start the game."

the mouse clicks above you. keyboard keys clatter. and you decide to make your move.

you hook your fingers into the waistband of those starry sleep shorts and tug gently. ellie lifts her hips, just barely, just enough, and you slide them down along with her underwear, revealing her to you in the soft glow of the RGB lights. she’s already wet, already wanting, and the sight makes your mouth water.

"okay, so, um," ellie’s voice wavers above you, "we're gonna start on the easiest difficulty because i’m—oh—"

the 'oh' comes out as you lean forward and place a soft, reverent kiss right where she needs you most. her thighs tremble on either side of your head, and you feel her try to close her legs instinctively before remembering where she is, what she's doing, who's watching.

you start slow, teasing, letting your tongue trace lazy patterns that make her squirm. above you, ellie is doing her absolute best to maintain composure, but you can hear the strain in her voice.

"so we need to—fuck—i mean, we need to find evidence," she says, and you grin against her, knowing that little slip was entirely your fault. "the ghost is... somewhere. we should probably... oh god..."

you flatten your tongue and lick a long, slow stripe, savoring the taste of her, the way she gasps and grips the armrests of her chair. her hips roll forward, seeking more, and you give it to her, sealing your lips around her clit and sucking gently.

"are you okay, ellie?" you imagine someone in chat must be asking, because she laughs, high and breathy and absolutely unconvincing.

"i’m fine! totally fine! just... just really focused on the game. this ghost is really scary, you guys."

her hand finds your hair again, fingers tangling, holding you close. you can feel her trying to stay still, trying not to move too much, trying not to give away what's happening just below the camera's view. but her body betrays her, the way her thighs quiver, the way her breathing gets heavier, the little gasps she can't quite suppress.

you work her with your tongue, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit, reading her body like a book you've memorized. when you slip two fingers inside her, she covers it with a cough, but you feel her clench around you, hot and wet and perfect.

"chat, i—i need you guys to stop being so funny right now," she manages, her voice tight. "i can’t... i can't focus when you're... oh fuck..."

you curl your fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and her thighs clamp around your head. above you, you hear the frantic clicking of her mouse, the desperate attempt to look like she's actually playing the game.

"the ghost is in the—the kitchen, i think. we should check the—oh god, oh god—"

you can feel her getting close, the way her walls flutter around your fingers, the way her clit pulses against your tongue. her breathing is ragged now, barely concealed, and you know her chat must be going wild with concern or speculation.

"ellie, you sound weird," she reads aloud, and laughs breathlessly. "i’m just... really into this game. very immersive. very... oh... very intense..."

you double your efforts, sucking harder, pumping your fingers faster, and you feel her start to shake. her hand in your hair tightens almost painfully, and her other hand slams down on the desk, she plays it off as frustration with the game, but you know better.

"i think i’m gonna—gonna die," she gasps out, and it's true in more ways than one. "the ghost is—i can't—"

her orgasm hits her like a wave, and she bites down on her lip so hard you're worried she'll draw blood. her whole body goes rigid, thighs clamping around your head, and you feel her pulse and clench around your fingers as she comes. above you, she's making these tiny, desperate sounds that she's trying so hard to suppress, disguising them as frustration with the game.

"no, no, no!" she cries out, and you know it's not about the game at all. "oh fuck, i died!"

you work her through it, gentle now, soft licks and slow movements as she trembles and shakes. when she finally starts to come down, you press tender kisses to her inner thighs, her hip bones, anywhere you can reach.

"okay," she says, and her voice is absolutely wrecked. "okay, i think... i think i need to take a quick break, guys. just five minutes. i need to... compose myself. that was really intense."

the moment she mutes her mic and turns off her camera, she's rolling her chair back and pulling you up into her lap. her face is flushed, her eyes bright and wild, and she's grinning at you like you've just given her the world.

"you are so bad," she whispers, pulling you into a kiss that tastes like her. "so, so bad."

"you loved it," you murmur against her lips, and she laughs, that real, genuine laugh that you adore.

"i really did," she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "but now chat thinks i’m either dying or having a mental breakdown."

"worth it?"

she kisses you again, soft and sweet and full of affection. "so worth it."

you can hear the discord notifications pinging, her mods probably checking in, her chat probably going absolutely feral with speculation. but for this moment, in this little bubble of intimacy, it's just the two of you, her fingers tracing patterns on your back, your head resting against her shoulder, both of you giggling like you've gotten away with the best prank in the world.

"i should probably go back," she says eventually, but she doesn't move. just holds you closer.

"probably," you agree, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"five more minutes," she decides, and you smile against her skin.

"five more minutes."

outside this little world, there's a stream to finish, a chat to reassure, a game to play. but here, under the glow of RGB lights and the warmth of her embrace, you've found something better than any game, this perfect, whimsical, slightly ridiculous moment of connection.

and when she finally does go back to streaming, when she's explaining away her "technical difficulties" and her flushed cheeks and her slightly disheveled appearance, you stay right there under the desk. just in case she needs another "break" later.

after all, you're nothing if not helpful.

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[elliewilliamsdaily-game]

FLOWERS BLOOM WHEN SHE WALKS AND KITTENS MEOW AND PUPPIES WOOF

[simplysinning]

500 ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ

…ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴍ ɢᴏɴᴇ…

You joined Ellie in pursuit of the bastards who mutilated Joel, gunning down half of Seattle to find the one woman who orchestrated the entire thing, and bring her to justice. It proves a lot more damning than you both thought it would be, and it’s going to cost even more blood than you expected to spill.

Ellie x Fem!Reader

cw: Angst angst angsty angst, someone give both of ya’ll a hug. Sorry for any mistakes, I’ve been working on this forthe last 6 hours my eyes are TIRED.

Don’t steal, please!

8.6k words

The room is watching you, waiting with its breathing floorboards and smiling–grinning–with its crumbling foundation at your pain, and you know that.

It's empty and decrepit and smells of something inexplicably sour, but you aren’t here for comfort, and it knows that. This damn hallowed husk of stone feels more alive than you do.

You stare at the wall, unmoving and unblinking, your revolver strewn over your raised knee while your fingers loosely curl over the grip, and you listen to the rain fall diagonally against the boarded windows. The mold slithering up the concrete, not unlike a tendril of ivy, peeks from beneath flaying floral patterns to pulse and quiver at you amongst stagnant air, though your flashlight has since begun to dim. You damaged the glass when you dropped it.

You don’t know how long you’ve been here, aren't sure whether it’s been days or minutes or hours, hiding, shivering like an abandoned stray on corroding softwood floors.

Your other hand is in your lap, resting atop the leg folded underneath you, but that is of unimportant detail, because it is empty. It lies there limp, facing towards the ceiling, half-curled and meek, as if waiting for something to grace the dip of its palm; a leaking solution, perhaps, but rainwater it is given because nothing is ever that easy. Not that you thought anything about this little crusade of yours would be simple.

Even if Joel Miller wasn’t the most outwardly affectionate toward others, the man always made sure to offer an open ear, a helping hand, or whatever else he could in classic, Texan altruism. And you noticed how he would hover around Ellie at a distance, reluctant, adhering to her wordless need for space but also never too far away. It was no secret how much he cared for her, and it is also no secret how fucking unfair life could be, because there was this singeing smell—assaulting and metallic and densely warm—that hit you before you even passed through the door.

The sight of his body, mangled and glistening under an ample amount of his own drying blood, would be etched into the back of your eyelids for days to come. It was a terrible thing, purposeful, evil, and the following sight of Ellie lying in a small bit of her own, facing him, was even worse. 

For the first few days, she refused to come out of the garage, and the day she was ready to open the door for you, her haggard state was made plainly obvious. 

Eating was optional, sleep was elusive, and showering was completely disregarded, and you could see everything, once hidden within the roundness of her face, had come to light in the shadows of her sunken cheeks. The regret and anger and every other emotion she could feel settled at the bridge of her nose all at once. She was swaying on her feet, pale and heavy, even her freckles seemed to have dulled, and your tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth. A wedge of bitterness had furrowed the space between your eyebrows, and the same searing pain, separate from everything else, twitched in the corner of Ellie’s frown. Everything was so unfair. 

She didn’t utter a word, barely looked in your direction, but you knew without them that she was grateful for you being there, and it took her a week to finally speak again. 

Her voice was so small, so broken, when she parted her lips to ask if you could spend the night quietly, you almost didn’t recognize it as hers. Ellie, who always sounded so witty and strong and just the right amount of awkward, was cracking along the edges of her letters, husky and watery in the way of someone barely hanging on to their last thread of sanity. However, the next morning was different.

“I’m going after them,” she had said, nodding her head. “I…I need to. I'm not going to ask you to come with me,” she continued, “I’m just telling you what I want to do, so...” 

She had this tautness slotted between the gaps of her grinding teeth, her usual tough exterior slipping back into place along the stiff line of her shoulders, in stark contrast to the raw emotion you rarely got to see. You could sense it; she had hardened throughout the night, thrown something vulnerable under lock and key and steel chain, and desperately squeezed her hands around the bleeding wound in her chest where Joel had been to provide some haphazard form of self-healing. 

You stood in front of her, the coffee table stretching the blanket of silence between you even wider, and drew in a deep breath, toying with the lint inside your pockets while you observed her, watching as her eyes darted from the floor to your face and back to the floor. You knew she was angry, hurting, resigned to her simmering need for vengeance, and you didn’t blame her for it. You had only hoped that what she wanted to do was something that would truly help her cope, because once Ellie had her mind set, there was little anyone could do to change it. 

“Are you going by yourself?”

Ellie nodded. “With, um, with Tommy.”

“Then,” you took a few steps forward, and Ellie’s eyes followed your movement, grabbing your hand and swiping her thumb over your knuckles almost instinctively, like she needed to be physically touching you in that moment without her realizing it, “I’m going with you. You go, I go, remember?”

A crack of thunder begins quietly, rumbling through the clouds, low, not unlike a lion’s guttural purr, and it grows and grows until you can feel it grumble beneath the soles of your feet. Your mind snaps back into the present, and you blink, finding yourself back inside this damn building. 

Something in the ceiling pops, a loose tile possibly, and it almost feels mocking; a little snort provided by crumbling infrastructure because you dared to reminisce as if saying, “Why bother? You’re dead anyway.” You startle a little at the sound. 

…The bite burns.

Unbearably so, beneath your long-sleeved shirt, and no amount of waiting combats this insufferable sensation, but at least it’s stopped bleeding, you suppose. 

You pull your sleeve back and stare at the bandage for a moment, shoddy and hastily wrapped in a panic. Your eyes observe your blood and how it’s now seeped into the gauze, soaking it an amaranth pink before pulling that back too. 

Your skin is red, raw, and the small indents made by rotten teeth and gnashing jaw feel uncomfortable and dirty. There's a prickling, this scorching unfamiliarity squirming above your bones and making your arm itch, but you don’t scratch because you know you won’t be satisfied until you’ve peeled this gross flesh clean off. You fucking hate stalkers.

But, despite everything going through your mind right now, the only thing you can truly focus on is that you can’t hide here forever. It had taken some convincing on your part to momentarily split up, leaving Ellie at the theatre while you searched the surrounding buildings for supplies, at least, that was the lie you gave her. In truth, you just needed some time to think.

You would have hoped for an older death, dying peacefully in your sleep like that woman at the end of that old, old movie Ellie practically begged you to watch, if only to share the frustration about her dropping that millions-of-dollars-worth necklace off the boat. 

“She could have, at least, given it to her granddaughter! What was the point of keeping it for all those years just to do that shit?”

Never mind that Tommy left before the both of you. You’ll never get to hear her complain about stupid, old movies ever again, never get to patrol with Dina and make fun of how Jessie is going to come crawling back a day after they break up for the umpteenth time, and never see home again. It takes two days to turn after you’re bitten.

You won’t be making it back.

A laugh is coming, you realize–bitter and sullen and hidden behind your liver. It burns on its way up past your lungs and sears the back of your tongue, and then you’re giggling. It starts small, quiet, not unlike this annoying rhythmic drip drop drip of rainwater leaking through a hole in the ceiling you can’t seem to fucking find, until it flares louder within the vibration of your shoulders.

It’s spiteful, this laugh of yours. You cover your mouth with your hand, your snicker half veiled behind the cup of your sweaty palm, but your chortles don’t stop; in fact, they tickle you even more. You snort, taking in a pathetic inhale, and this sound, a whiny, perturbed mess of a thing, weaves through the gaps of your teeth and gurgles out more laughter, and it hurts. This is it.

You’re going to die, who knows how many miles away from home. 

100? 200? 

Maybe more than 500, who’s to say?

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, but you hurriedly wipe it away before it can salt along your cheek, your empty stare hardening into a glower strong enough to put a hole through the roof, and then you’re becoming angry. It simmers in your stomach, slow yet consuming, warming the expanse of your back and fanning the shells of your ears and knitting your eyebrows together. It continues to spread until your giggles begin to dip, and then they’re gone.

“Fuck,” you gasp and double over, gripping a handful of your hair with a tight fist, “fuck, fuck!” 

Why is it today?

What do you do?

Where the fuck is that dripping sound coming from!?

Your arm gives a twitch, and it’s only then that you remember the gun in your other hand. Its weight, heavy and molded into your palm since you were thirteen, is suddenly foreign to you as the cylinder rests against your temple, your head seeking asylum within the barricade of your raised arms. 

Your gun. Right..

Should you just...do it now? 

It would be easy, you think, moving to tap the barrel of your revolver to your bottom lip over and over as if to replace a contemplative index finger. The aluminum is cold, icy, and a crisp contrast in how this damned infection spreads within your blood and sets your skin aflame; it makes you wonder if you’ll even feel the bullet amidst your own body heat. 

You almost wish you had a flower in front of you, plucking off petals one by one to decide whether or not to shoot yourself in the head with the childhood naivety of leaving your crush’s feelings down to the last sepal. The simplicity might make this a bit easier. 

Should you kill yourself? Should you not? So many options to choose from!

A subtle click of the cylinder moving a fraction of an inch as you press the gun against your temple sends a chill down your spine, and it cements that this is real. You take a sharp inhale.

You point the gun to the ceiling. 

You put the gun to your temple, releasing a long exhale.

Then, you point the gun to the ceiling.

Your trigger finger dances, swaying back and forth from a half step up to a half step down, curling and uncurling from the trigger guard as if it's forgotten the next step of the routine.

“No,” you drop the gun, wincing at the sound of it plonking onto the hardwood a little too harshly, “no, no, this isn’t right...”

It’s unfair, you realize, cheap to do it without Ellie knowing, without knowing why you have to do it. She thinks you’re on a supply run; she thinks you’ll come back. You always come back. 

You have to tell her.

“Get up,” you murmur, but your limbs only remain still as if cemented under wood, embedded in a layer of concrete beneath the boards like the spiraling roots of a tree, “get up.” But, you don’t. “Getupgetupgetup.”

Maybe you’ve already turned, simply replaying the last few moments of your humanity as you sat there battling yourself. Maybe the infection siphoned you down to your last drop of consciousness and left you there rotting away–a looping memory unseen through convulsing extremities and sharp snaps of the jaw looking for their next victim to infect.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Maybe you’re running out of time. No, not maybe. 

You are.

You’re running out of time, and you’re sitting here pitying yourself?

Get up.

GET UP!

“No,” you grunt, releasing your hair to smack yourself on the cheek, and promptly shake off the sting. It makes you blink, distracting you from the pain beginning to numb on your arm for a moment, and you’re thankful for it. “No, fuck this.”

There’s no use. You got bit, and you’re going to die by either your own bullet or someone else's after finding you forgotten to waste among the silken curtains and disintegrating playbills of that damn theatre. Being hysterical isn’t going to help you. Nothing can help you now, and you have to get up. You have to go back. 

To say goodbye.

And it doesn’t take long to find her once you get back an hour later. You have a feeling about where she is the moment you hear muffled radio static swimming down the hallway, and you follow.

Ellie’s back leans against a desk drawer, and she looms over the map on the floor, a piece of auburn hair falling into her eye as she skims over drawn arrows and messy circles. There are polaroids scattered in front of her, some covered in red X’s to showcase their brutal demise, and some left alone. It’s most likely in consideration of you, since you’re sure all of those faces are burned into Ellie’s psyche. The one in her fingers is tossed onto the map, a quiet curse slipping from her mouth when the radio temporarily loses signal. 

You linger, your sleeve you’ve long since pulled back down, brushing the door frame as you peek through the crack in the ajar door to just…watch her for a few moments. 

Her jean pullover is thrown onto the desk, momentarily abandoned, and it leaves her in this black t-shirt that clings to her lean frame. Her tattoo, a detailed moth perched on a branch of leaves, catches the light, and the design glistens under a thin sheen of sweat beneath the warm bulb while she gives the radio a rough knock to the side.  

She had asked for your help before she had it done, poking your side and groaning about how she couldn't finish the sketch on her own. You knew she was lying, but you decided to throw something out there anyway.

"I don't know," you had rolled your eyes and pushed her arm away from you with a chuckle, "a bunch of leaves or something?"

You also notice the raised scar beneath the ink, the healed lesion Ellie had once tried to tell you the truth behind, but you believed it to be, “absolute horseshit”, and it glares at you, smug, because you found it out to be true. 

It was something else watching your girlfriend breathe in spores, unbothered, as if it were second nature. Her shattered mask had fallen to the floor, her hands hurriedly grabbing onto your wrists to stop you from covering her nose in panic before she used the leverage to push you against the wall. 

“I’m immune! I’m not coughing, do you see?”

So much happens after that, and the moments don’t come to you clearly. Images flash through your skull in blurry, adrenaline-induced smudges until they come to an abrupt stop at one, and your lips press into a line. 

Ellie’s voice, a low, “there we go,” after the person speaking on the radio crackles back to life has you pushing open the door, slightly wincing at the creak its hinges provide. She looks up, the frustration woven into her frown leveling at the sight of you, and she offers a small smile, stretching the small wound cutting the width of her chin.

“Hey,” she says, and it’s only a word. 

A word you’ve heard her give you many, many times–sometimes when she’s in too much of a hurry, it comes with a quick peck. Sometimes she would say it when you found yourself waking up to her staring at you, the shining sun kissing her freckled cheeks, and green eyes sparkling with affection and this quiet vulnerability only available to you. It’s only a word, but it sends a wave of emotion down your spine anyway.

Because you know that you won’t get to hear it anymore, and this time is fleeting. 

‘Tell her.’

You nod, crossing your arms, and your nose scrunches when the covered bite presses against your middle, heavy in all the ways of a secret you’re about to tell.

“Hi. What’s,” your eyes drift to the map on the floor, and you gesture to it with your chin, avidly avoiding having to look your girlfriend in the face just yet, “what’s next? Where do we go from here?”

‘...'We', huh?’

“Well,” Ellie sighs, glancing down at the map, “I’m going on a guess here since these assholes encode everything, but,” she points to a word in the middle of a pair of lines, one red and the other blue, stretching her torso to reach across the map, “I think this is where Tommy might be.”

You step closer into the room to crouch and squint at the letters printed above Ellie’s index finger, offhandedly noticing that her nails are starting to get a little longer than she’ll usually allow. 

“Hillcrest,” you read, “okay,” then you fall silent.

You can’t find anything else to say, and what you need to get out is choking you, knotting at the base of your throat and making your mouth dry. You try to swallow, and it goes down agonizingly slowly. The map in front of you begins to blur, neighborhoods and street names blending into an unintelligible blob of faded brown when your eyes lose focus, and you hear a stuttering, erratic thump in your ears that falls in sync with your heart. Your bottom lip slots between the ends of your teeth. 

‘Fucking tell her! Now!’

The voice in your head doesn’t sound like you anymore, and it growls out curses, animalistic and violent. Your teeth pull at a loose piece of skin, and you feel it lift, and maybe it is your voice. 

‘Tell her, tell her now! Tellhertellhertellher-’

It pulls and pulls and pulls, and you’re sure it’ll never stop pulling until your entire lip comes off–why doesn’t this hurt?

‘FUCKING SAY IT!’

But it does come off, and when it does, there’s this brief taste of copper, red, and iron-based that dots the roof of your mouth, and you swallow the piece of torn skin. It doesn’t taste of anything. Why infected find the taste of skin so appealing when it has no real flavor, you wonder. 

“...Ellie,” you whisper, and her eyes retrace along their shaking trail the moment her name leaves your wobbling lips, but you don’t notice because you refuse to look at her. Still.

She picks up on this.

Ellie notices how uncomfortable you seem to be, your upper body coiled into yourself like a spring bent out of shape, and her brows scrunch at the blood beading from the corner of your mouth. She wants to ask what’s got you so nervous, wants to ask what’s making your nails claw into your biceps through the material of your shirt, so she does.

“What’s up?” 

And her eyes study you, because maybe you’re backing out of this, having second thoughts. She wouldn’t blame you.

Joel’s death had shaken Jackson, and the gaping hole left by his murder, clawed to the center with jagged nails, was noticeable to a lot of the community. Even to Buckley, the old boy whining when his wrapped body had been brought back to town. Though none was more inconsolable than Ellie.

She didn’t utter a word, didn’t move, and you didn’t make her. You simply sat beside her and rubbed circles into her back as she blankly stared at her socks, hoping it brought her some comfort, if only slight, and Ellie couldn’t begin to word how grateful she was for it. 

Her room, devoid of the light and warmth there had once been, seemed to grow smaller and smaller over the sound of her muffled sniffles as she gripped the back of your sweater, her knuckles turning white with such visceral desperation because everything was so raw and open. You had no choice but to hold her back until you both fell asleep that way, and she welcomed it. 

It was unfair, so fucking unfair, because Ellie had just made her peace, just attempted to patch things up with the only father figure she’s ever had, and he was stolen from her. He was stolen in no less than two days after Ellie grew tired of the wasted years of awkward conversations and lingering survivor’s guilt by some random group of assholes out for old blood, and they made sure she watched.

But they made a mistake, a fatal mistake that’s going to cost them.

They let her live.

It took a lot to get where you are now, and neither of you expected to encounter so many WLF soldiers on the way, so Ellie doesn’t blame you if you realized that this is nowhere an easy job for just two people. In all actuality, she didn’t fully think this entire thing through, fully driven by her blossoming desire to see Abby’s head detached from her shoulders. She doesn’t know if she’ll get to kill her or simply die trying, but she’s for damn sure going to aim her hardest for the former.

However, Ellie watches you, observes the way you visibly struggle to say something so obviously weighing on your mind, and thinks that maybe this is becoming too much for you, and you want to stop, to go home to Jackson. 

To leave her.

You’ve always been the levelheaded one, the one who never lets it go too far, and you’ve spilled more blood in the last few days than perhaps your entire life. Ellie’s been there before, and she won’t lie, it’s heavy, but she’s gotten used to it. Though it begs a question.

Would she be able to go with you?

“Ellie,” you repeat, clearing your throat, and your voice comes out a bit louder, “I know that you’re immune.”

“..Yeah?”

“Do you think,” you hesitate, “do you think there are…more people like you? More people who can’t get infected?”

“...found her or someone else that’s immune…”

“Uh,” she blinks, “I’ve never met anyone else, but…maybe. I can’t…be the only one in the world, right? Joel would always tell me to never tell anyone, so maybe it was the same thing if there was anyone else. Why?”

Your mouth opens before it closes, then it opens again. 

Ellie hears it, a tiny pocket of air that escapes near your tonsils–a dying sentence that reworks and reforms around your gums over and over again the longer you hunch into yourself. Your reluctance, your reasoning for bringing up Ellie’s immunity, could just be chalked up to curiosity if she didn’t know any better, and she wishes she didn't know any better, but she knows you. 

You’re nervous, scared even, and Ellie sees it in the twitch of your eyebrows, in how you choose to keep your face pointed toward the floor to avoid her eyes. No, she realizes, you’re terrified, and then she feels it, a creeping coldness rising from the bottom of her gut. 

You haven't brought up your supply run. 

This is leading up to something.

“I just,” you exhale, picking your head up, and your shoulders sag, a small smile devoid of any true joy spreading across your lips that has that damn chill churning in her stomach uncomfortably, “wanted to know if I had a chance.”

“...Why?”

There’s another crack of thunder, but it only vibrates and fades amidst the rain, a small hum compared to the increase of this weird fucking buzzing in the middle of Ellie’s ears, and she feels like her breathing might stop.

"Why?"

You don’t respond, but she almost knows your answer in the way your smile falls before your jaw clenches. You’re closing up, sharpening around where things were once soft, but there’s also a sadness, a blatant, hopeless need for her to understand this thing you can’t seem to verbalize. 

You don’t say anything, and she’s not sure if she doesn’t want to know or if she should just demand that you say it. 

For a second, a name flashes through Ellie’s mind, a name and a face she hadn’t thought of in years until just now, and she now knows what this feeling is from having felt it before. 

A realization.

And she hopes, prays to whoever might be listening, that she’s really fucking wrong. But, like always, her prayers go ignored.

“Ellie–”

“Let me see,” she interrupts, her voice surprisingly even, though a sense of deja vu tingles across the back of her neck that she wants to hack away with her pocket knife because this shouldn’t remind her of that.

The day she lost Riley.

Tess.

Sam…

“No,” she shakes her head, blinking erratically as if trying to flutter this budding foreboding away with her eyelashes, and runs a hand through her auburn hair to push it away from her face. “No, there isn’t–there’s no fucking–”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen–”

“You,” her mouth twists and her nose scrunches at the bridge, her voice rising in pitch. She whips her head away from you, hiding the swell of emotion swimming in her eyes, but you hear her words pool along the length of her tongue in an unsteady warble, “You’re not going to fucking–no. No.”

Her breath begins to come in shakily, and leaves just as unstable.

“No,” Ellie places a hand to her chest, “no, fuck!”

She doesn't hear you shuffle closer, doesn’t feel your presence filling the space beside her because she’s too busy fighting off that annoying ringing, and only when your hand, so familiar yet so light and entirely too warm, falls to her arm does her gaze snap over to you. Your face is unreadable, blank, and your cheeks shine from sweat, but your eyes say what your expression doesn’t.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I love you.’

‘I’m so fucking scared.’

And Ellie feels her lower lip tremble.

“Let,” the word retches from the back of her mouth like risen bile, and she stops herself, taking a deep breath. “Let me see it… Please.”

Wordlessly, you present your arm to her, your eyes drifting down to your sleeve, and Ellie wavers in her instinctive reach for you, her fingers flexing over nothing. It’s the only confirmation she needs, your silent acceptance, but she has to see it for herself, she has to know if the bite is truly there or if this is all some sick cosmic joke. 

Ellie rolls up your sleeve, her breath hitching at the sight of your bandage, dark from your dried blood, and swallows thickly. She grasps the end of the gauze and slowly begins to unravel, moving languidly, as if it would make any difference. In her mind, the slower she moves might just make everything disappear, but it all comes off eventually, much to her chagrin. 

Once the bandage finally falls from your arm after a few torturous minutes, Ellie stops, and a fucked-up symphony of feelings gurgle within her, akin to an overflowing soup—fear, disbelief, and an overwhelming urge to flee the room, but she only tightens her grip on your arm.

“I know it’s not pretty, but you don’t have to make that face.” You attempt a joke, but it falls unbelievably flat, and your voice slips into this somber, guilty tone that quivers out the side of your neck. 

Ellie doesn’t laugh.

She doesn’t move.

She might not even be blinking for all she knows, because she’s too busy staring.

She stares at the bite mark, her eyes running over the length of black tendrils beneath your skin already halfway up your arm, and releases a breath. Releasing isn’t the right word; it’s forced out of her, her heart skipping as if she was punched in the chest by a particularly heavyset fit, and she takes in how warm your arm is. It’s unnaturally hot, and it doesn’t make her a genius for being able to discern how your raised skin is trying to fight off the spreading infection. 

She draws a deep, deep breath. 

“How long has it been?”

“Nine hours or so.”

Ellie licks her lips, frustration tightening the tendons of her jaw. Nine hours… 

When you were both leaving the subway tunnels. 

Telling you that she’s been immune the whole time, you didn’t have to take your mask off for Ellie to see the look of betrayal and confusion on your face. She didn’t have much time to explain why she hid it from you, didn't have any time to apologize because you, of all people, should have known, because a horde had shown up. It was madness, and with runners and clickers and a bloater or two, just because life loves making things difficult, it makes sense for something to slip through the cracks. 

A stalker had cut you off when you were running, crashing into your side and sending you both to the floor in a flurry of flailing limbs. You yelped, and Ellie wasted no time in pulling out her pocket knife to race up behind it to pull it off, stabbing it in the neck. 

“Go!”

Was that when it happened? Right in front of her, and she didn’t notice? Was she too slow?

“Hey,” your voice cuts through her thoughts like a knife through glass, and you press a finger to her forehead in a weak jab, “don’t do that thing you do.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you think everything is all your fault.”

You know how she gets, her bleeding heart, as much as she likes to deny it, making everything fall so hard on her, even if it’s something outside of her control. She had told you about Riley once before, but only that she died, not how, and there was this impersonal tone about it as if there was another half to the story she wasn’t ready to tell. When she finally told you that only Riley had turned, you knew why, aside from keeping her immunity a secret. She thought it was unfair that she was the only one who lived. 

Ellie’s hold on your arm slackens, and you use her now-loose grip to pull away. In a shuffling rearrangement of limbs, you sit beside Ellie on the floor, your back leaning against the desk, and pull your knees up. You don’t pull your sleeve back down, feeling no need to anymore, and the cool air gives a nice contrast on your skin. Ellie’s eyes follow your movements, glaring at your arm atop your knees like an animal prepared to attack at the slightest sign of motion. Her unintentional pout almost makes you want to laugh, but you don’t. You just lay your head on her shoulder, ignoring how tense she becomes, and relax into her side. 

The rain is much more calming against the theatre windows, light against the glass in consistent muffled thuds instead of harsh, loud smacks. Or, maybe it’s only because you’re here with Ellie, left with nothing else unsaid between you except the final goodbye. The radio falls into static, losing signal again, but you both just leave it be, and it lulls into the background, bleeding into the rain and deep thunder. 

Ellie can feel your skin through her shirt, hot and clammy and unequivocally not you because it’s way too much, and she bites down a whimper of devastation. This isn’t how it should have gone.

You should be fine, coming back from the supply run with an expired can of peaches and a bottle of alcohol and all of your skin intact like you always did, but instead you’re both here, biding time until you have to do something you should never have to do. This shouldn’t be how it all ends for you. You deserve better. A lot fucking better, and despite you scolding her for thinking this, it’s all her fault. 

She wanted to go after every last one of them, wanted to hurt them in worse ways than they hurt her, and it cost you, since you were worried she would get herself killed, and she probably would have. A few times over. This was never about justice; it’s always been about vengeance, and the thirst of it, that wolfish salivation in the middle of her tongue, delivered you right to death’s door because you’re foolish enough to love her as much as you do. Because of her, you’re going to die in some piece-of-shit, rundown theatre, far away from everything and everyone you’ve ever known, and it kills her. 

She should have left without saying anything, should have stuck with her first plan of slipping from Jackson on her own. You might have been mega pissed if she came back, but at least you would be alive. 

Ellie’s hand slips over her eyes, a broken, dry sob tumbling from her mouth before the tears truly begin, and the sound tears through your heart like a pair of scissors through paper.

“..I’m sorry,” you exhale, swallowing the pain to finish, “that I have to go—”

“You go, I go, remember?”

“No,” Ellie cries, but you keep going, sucking in a breath that trails off into a short wheeze.

“—but you have to stay, okay? Don’t come with me.”

She cups a hand around your head and brings you closer with a wail, pressing you into her neck with the force of someone trying to spite death, because he can’t take you. Not from her, not you, not yet. 

“Please,” Ellie snivels your name, feeble and pathetic and destroyed. 

It’s hard, listening to her sob for you like this, someone so used to playing a strong role in life that they’ve forgotten how to talk about the hard parts, and you pick your head off her shoulder. It’s not much better looking at her, a flush staining her running nose and across her tear-streaked face, but you only smile, sad and embracing as you cup your palm over her freckled cheek. 

She leans into it, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before they’re peeled back open just as quickly, almost as if you’ll disappear the very moment she looks away, and she hiccups, “I’m…sorry.”

The anger, the bitterness, and the pain, it’s all gone away, and the only thing left is regret for a past that was and a future that never will be. 

“It’s okay,” a tear slips down your cheek, your smile turning wistful, “I’m okay, and you will be too. I can feel it.”

Ellie shakes her head, a few loose pieces of hair swaying at the movement, but you stop her with a kiss. It’s light, probably more a brush of lips at first, but then it becomes harsher and despairing because Ellie is bending into you, holding your face in her hands with all the love she’s ever given and ever will give you, hoping it’ll be enough to save you like those stupid, kid movies where they solved everything with true love’s kiss. It’s electric, intense in how she’s trying to kiss her very own life, her immunity, into you through the enamel of her teeth, and it steals your breath away. 

But this isn’t a fairytale, love isn’t enough, and you’re running out of time.

A thin string of saliva stays between you even after you pull back, and when you would once smirk, teasing Ellie about how even her spit can’t be away from you, you only sniff and wipe it away.

“I’m ready,” you say, and Ellie looks at you through her lashes, clumping together in her tears. “I’m ready…”

“Fuck no, I’m not gonna do this—“

“Ellie,” you suddenly snap, the gentle tone of voice you’ve been using this entire conversation sharpening so unexpectedly that it makes her jump. You breathe in through your nose, close your eyes, and lower your voice, “I’m not turning. Please, just…make this a bit easier for me.”

A distant memory flashes through her brain like an uninvited guest once you say those words, and the iron strikes just as fresh now as it had nine years ago.

“Come on, make this easy for me...”

You watch her silently for a while, watch as her face scrunches and relaxes and hardens in that familiar way where she’s placing her own feelings wayside to be buried beneath her ribcage, but it makes you frown. You don’t want to go there, where all the bad and ugly join in this amalgamation of suppressed memories she’s too afraid to talk about. You want her to think about you and be happy, if a little bittersweet, because you were here. You lived, and you loved, and you loved her. 

Ellie lets you wipe away the wetness on her face, lets you smooth the wrinkle in between her scrunched, auburn brows, if only to let you touch her a bit longer. Even with the tendrils now moving up your neck, you’re still beautiful. There’s no feeling to fully describe this, that the hands cradling her so gently, worrying more about her in this moment than the dwindling time they have left, will soon be cold. They’ll rot here, eaten away by bugs and time and wandering wildlife, and their bones will stay, binding a beautiful soul somewhere undeserving of its final resting place. 

You stand up, and Ellie is only just now realizing how quick your breathing has gotten. 

“I don’t need,” you rasp, pausing a moment to catch your breath, and there’s a disgusting, subtle gurgle at the back of your throat that’s never been there before, “you seeing this.”

Ellie almost rebuttals, almost screams with all of the air in her lungs that she needs to be with you, needs to hold you until you’ve gone icy and stiff because you’ve always been together, but she can’t. She knows what you’ll say if she does.

“That’s a little unhealthy, Els.”

“What? I can’t eat the food from your mouth and vice versa, reverse-human-centipede style?”

“If we don’t swallow it, we aren’t really eating, though. We would starve.”

“Maybe, but we would starve together.”

“I…don’t want us dying together?”

“Why not? It would be hella romantic. Some real and Juliet shit, you know?”

“...You need help.”

“You love me.”

“I love you,” you say, resolution hanging from the corner of your small smile that she fails to reciprocate, and you don’t blame her for it. 

“...I love you too,” and Ellie is sure her voice is the same small and broken thing you heard in the garage, quiet in the same sense of exhaustion from losing someone else she cares about to a world that couldn’t give a damn about her, but she doesn’t mind how frail that makes her sound. She’s losing you.

She’s losing you, and she can’t even get off the fucking floor. 

Then, you leave, opening and closing the door behind you so softly that the click of the latch is barely audible. 

Your hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment, trembling around the brass, until you let it fall to your side. There are so many things going through your mind as you walk down the hall, but it’s all aimless. You don’t know where your feet are taking you as you leave the theatre, don’t know where you’re going to spend your final moments as you’re pelted in rain, don’t know where you’ll end up after you die, don’t know how Ellie will feel when she finds what you left her, but it’s too late to think about any of that now. 

You don’t have many regrets to fall back on, but if you had to choose one, it would be that this happened in front of Ellie, of all people. The world has already taken so much from her, yet it still managed to write you into the still-growing list of names stricken from life. No matter how hard you try to prevent it, you know this is just going to break her all over again. It’ll make her angry and sad, but most of all, it’ll make her even more resentful. 

Resentful of a life that’s forcing her through so much death. 

Only so many times can a heart break and reform before it all eventually collapses, utterly tired and beaten into this cowering ball of resignation that everything is shit and nothing will get better. You can only hope that doesn’t happen after you’re gone. 

A sudden pop of tile brings your mind back to the present, and you realize, with a start, that you’re out of the rain. 

Your eyes take in the rotted floorboards and peeling, floral wallpaper, and it all strikes a familiar cord with you. An empty chuckle escapes the back of your throat.

“It’s just you and me again, huh? Fine,” you inch your way onto the floor and lean your back against the wall with a long, deep sigh. Everything about you is heavy–not tense, but heavy–like a tightness in your chest you can’t run away from, but you’re ready. You have to be; there’s nowhere else to go.

You take out your revolver from the waistband of your jeans, and smile. Your last, real smile. 

“...You win.”

Ellie stares at the door for a long time, bores into the splinting hardwood hoping that her vision will wobble and distort and she’ll shoot up in bed, in Jackson, in the garage, and this will all be some sick nightmare. You’ll be sleeping right next to her, peaceful, hugging her pillow you’ve somehow stolen in the night against your cheek, and she’ll kiss you hard. She’ll kiss your cheeks and lips and nose and eyes that will be tendril free, and she’ll love you even harder. 

And Joel will eventually knock, but never come in. Maybe the doorknob makes a sound, one you hear when someone puts their fingers around it and half-turns, hesitating to open the door, but still doesn’t open it. Then he’ll talk, mentioning in his rough, southern drawl behind the wall that it’s her turn for stable duty. She won’t ignore him like she used to, won’t grumble at him to go away because she couldn’t get over herself and took it out on him undeservedly. Instead, she’ll yank the door open with enough strength to rip it off its hinges, and jump, wrapping herself around the old man in a hug delivered five years too late, and she’ll tell him that she loves him and that she’s sorry and that she would punch herself in the fucking face if she could. Except, none of that happens. Because this is all real. 

And then, amidst the rain and thunder and radio static, a gunshot rings out, a bit quiet as if a few buildings away, and it tears through Ellie like an arrow to the throat.

None of it–the rage and death and overcompensation to make up for her years worth of regret–was worth it. It would never be. 

Joel is gone. 

You are gone. 

And the ride back to Jackson is completely silent. 

Ellie can’t stand to look at anyone when she comes through Jackson’s front gates, alone, when she had not left that way. Jessie and Dina knew you both left, and when they see you aren’t with her and your backpack has been tied to the saddle instead, their faces say enough.

‘I’m sorry.’

She doesn’t speak, doesn’t answer anyone when they ask her where she had been and what she was thinking, and doesn't do anything but press her lips to hide the wobble when asked about what happened to you. About Tommy.

Ellie moves with an almost robot-like precision while getting off of Shimmer, untying your bag, and walking off down the road, a road engraved to the bottom of her canvas sneakers for the last five years. 

This particularly walk feels a lot more grueling.

A thin sheet of dust settled over everything in the garage while she was gone, including a DVD left on her night stand that neither one of you bothered to put back in the case before you left. Ellie stares at the title.

Sleeping Beauty. 

There’s a subtle shift, pulsing through the once still air of the empty garage. Ellie feels it in her upper lip, this vibrating discomfort that hammers in the bridge of her nose, and it takes a moment to realize that the shift is coming from her. 

Why is she not surprised that it’s a fucking feel-good movie? One of those movies where everyone wins and evil is vanquished and everything is just so goddamn perfect, right? A movie where no one has to feel this fucking empty and battered by life, huh?

Her mouth curls into a sneer.

“Liar,” she spits, yanking the DVD off the table, “liar,” and in one, quick motion, snaps the movie in half before tossing the pieces against the wall. They clatter to the ground noisily, but otherwise leave everything else undisturbed. This spurs Ellie on more, “Fucking liar!”

There are no happy endings, not anymore.

She sees you in her bed watching a movie, at her desk reading her comics, in the middle of the room telling her that you’ll go find Abby together, but it’s all too fresh.

She doesn’t think, fueled by this incessant need for destruction, and only moves to pick up the lamp from the same bedside table. The power cord makes a light popping sounds as it rips from the wall, but she doesn’t care and throws it to the ground. It shatters instantly, spraying glass all over the floor, but she doesn’t stop. Her blankets hit the floor, then her pillows. She makes it across the room in one great stride towards her couch, and kicks over the coffee table with a shout, knocking it on its side and all of the contents with it.

“Fucking-!”

Everything becomes a haze of flying books and torn posters and shattered dishes. She knows she’s crying, she knows she’s screaming, and she knows this is pointless since she’ll have to clean it all up, but she doesn’t care. 

You’re gone. Joel is gone. Tess is gone. Sam is gone. Riley is gone. 

How many more people is she going to lose? How many until it’s enough? How many more times is it going to kill her? How many times is it going to be her fault? And, unintentionally, she begins doing exactly what you said she does, and starts blaming herself, and you aren’t around anymore to stop her, and that kills her too. 

If she hadn’t snuck out that night, Riley would still be here.

If she didn’t need to find the fireflies to make a vaccine since she seems to be the only immune person in the entire fucking world, Sam and Tess would still be here.

If she had just said ‘sorry, I forgive you’, and traded routes with Joel like she wanted to, you and Joel would still be here.

If she was never immune in the first place, all of you would still be here.

Ellie collapses in a heap of limbs in the middle of the now messy room, her chest heaving with haggard breaths and broken cries as she curls in on herself. She doesn’t care about the glass and debris cutting through the material of her jeans, but welcomes it instead. After all, it’s what she feels she deserves. 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want this…I didn’t want this.”

Eventually, Ellie will stop crying.

She’ll get up and grab your bag and look through it where she’ll come across a letter. A letter addressed to her, a letter that she can tell is your handwriting in the dumb way you write your e’s just to piss her off, and then she’ll open and read that letter.

And that letter will say:

Dear Ellie,

This was no one’s fault, and I need you to know that, so don’t blame yourself. Please. 

I chose this, and I don’t regret going with you. I saved your ass too many times to think you didn’t need me, so I stayed. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have gotten this far. I’ve made my peace.

I won’t be mad that you have to leave me where I am. I expect it, actually. We’re too far, I’d probably be completely rotten by the time you made it back with my body, anyway. Ew lol.

Get the bitch for me, okay? And even if you don’t, none of that survivor's guilt bullshit. It was always either gonna be this way, starvation, or old age, and this is a LOT more badass. 

Don’t join me too soon, and make my grave look pretty. 

I love you. ♡

She’ll laugh a little at how casual you are in a letter about your death and cry a lot more, but it will be a different cry. It will be full of love and hate and hurt, but it will also be healing, because you’re helping her even after you’re gone. 

Then, she’ll eventually move on. 

She’ll get her own place on the other side of Jackson, not to avoid the old house and all of its memories, but for a change of scenery. She’ll make new friends and still hang out with the old ones. She’ll get new tattoos and pierce her eyebrow. She’ll still visit Joel’s grave with a fresh bouquet of flowers every two weeks, and have a second bouquet waiting in her other arm to set on the grave next to it, although the land beneath it will forever remain empty. She’ll even talk to them, telling them how there’s a woman she’s beginning to like, and that she feels really guilty about it. 

Eventually, she’ll have moved on. Fully. Then, she’ll live the rest of her life carrying all the people she’s lost in her heart until the day she’ll die in her bed, old and wrinkly like the lady from the end of that old, old movie she used to complain about with you.

However, until all of that happens, before all of the eventually’s, Ellie will be curled on the floor for a bit longer, crying with broken glass cutting into the skin of her legs and a heart too ripped open to keep going.

[a7dromeda]

ᯓ➤ high libido! ellie x low libido reader headcanons . .

— tags & warnings : nsfw, adult content — mdni, gp! ellie williams, overstimulation, rough sex, gentle sex, cockwarming, dirty talks. proceed with caution.

find the request here 💌

‎𑣲── im thinking of ellie who lasts in bed for several rounds — even hours than the average sex you had grown accustomed to. sure, you can last for several rounds in bed, but ellie was just a beast in bed, not even stopping even when you're overstimulated — or she's shooting nothing when she comes.

‎𑣲 ‎‎── ellie, who's shy about it at first when you two started dating. she absolutely thought that you'd find it weird, or that it might turn you off — but she was happy once she knew that you were comfortable about that fact.

‎𑣲 ── ellie, who finds herself to get horny or turned on so easily at your simple gestures! your head is in her lap during movie nights? you can already feel the bulge of her cock straining against your cheek. sitting in her lap? you can bet a hundred that in less than five minutes, her cock would poke through your ass.

‎𑣲 ── ellie, who was so worried when she noticed how frequent you two have done sex or talked about it. she was nervous to discuss it with you — mainly thinking that it was a her problem, but you already reassured her, saying that you were not just the one who had an excellent stamina in bed, and that you'll always love her, despite the contrast you both have.

‎𑣲── she is so obsessed with lazy/soft sex, definitely loves the fact that she's barely moving her own hips — just enough for her dick to inch in and out of you as you're pressed against her chest! what more could she ask for?

‎𑣲 ── cockwarming with ellie is basically heaven, she loves it when you allow her to just let her cock stay inside you for hours on end, sometimes shifting into an another round for the both of you <3

‎𑣲── ellie, who still doesn't stop until you're squirting all over her cock. she makes it her personal mission that she won't stop until you're crying out from overstimulation or you're squirting all over the sheets, staining your bed.

‎𑣲 ── ellie, who just loves it when you're so horny <3 it's once in a blue moon that you're this needy — mostly when you're ovulating. (yes, she knows when you start your cycle) we're talking about ellie who shamelessly loves it when you use her for your pleasure, riding her cock until you're on the verge of passing out.

‎𑣲 ── sex with ellie is basically soft, vanilla sex where she's pressed against your neck, holding your hand tightly as she whispers how much she loves you, or how she's grateful to have you in her life — or rough, hardcore ones where she's pressing your head against the mattress, her cock reaching her cervix as she slams against you, grunting of how tight you were against her, or how you needed to shut the fuck up and let her have this. (she'd tell you later how much she meant none of those words, and you'd always reassure her that you were completely fine with her being rough.)

‎𑣲 ── ellie, despite having a high stamina in sex — always prioritizes your comfort more than anything. she knows how easily you get overwhelmed after, so she stops herself from going onto another round, already taking care of you after — her bulge straining against her pants.

all rights reserved. user a7dromeda.

masterlist / the last of us

[saintofdecayyy]

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗ৎStress Relief 🍵˚࿔ 𝜗ৎ

summary: after ellie’s had a long, taxing day at work, you cockwarm her strap to relieve the stress from the day

word count: 900

cw: 16+, EXPLICIT CONTENT, soft sex, fluffy

ellie comes home like a storm cloud,jaw tight, shoulders hunched, barely grunting a hello before she collapses onto the couch. you can see it in the way she rubs her face, the exhaustion carved into every line of her body.

"rough day?"

"you have no idea." her voice is clipped, sharp around the edges.

you disappear into the bedroom, heart racing as you strip down and slip into the new set you bought last week,deep green silk that clings to every curve, delicate lace at the edges. When you return to the living room doorway, ellie’s head is tipped back against the couch, eyes closed.

"ellie."

she opens her eyes. Blinks. then her gaze drags down your body, slow and hungry, and something in her expression shifts entirely.

"fuck," she breathes.

"come here."

she’s on her feet in seconds, crossing to you like she's being pulled by a string. her hands find your waist, fingers pressing into silk. "you’re—this is—"

"for you." you cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "let me take care of you tonight."

the tension doesn't leave her immediately, but you feel it start to crack when you kiss her, soft and slow, coaxing her to melt into you. she sighs against your mouth, and you lead her back to the bedroom.

"sit," you murmur, guiding her to the edge of the bed.

she obeys, watching with dark eyes as you kneel between her legs, working her belt open, then her jeans. when you reach for the harness in the drawer, her breath catches.

"baby—"

"trust me."

you help her into it, adjusting the straps with practiced ease, and the sight of her like this,still fully clothed on top, the strap jutting between her thighs,makes heat coil tight in your belly. but tonight isn't about urgency. It's about her.

you straddle her lap slowly, the silk of your panties already damp as you press against the toy. ellie’s hands grip your hips, steadying you.

"just want to feel you," you whisper against her ear. "want you inside me."

her groan is low and wrecked. "Yeah?"

"yeah."

you reach down, pulling the fabric aside, and sink down onto her strap inch by inch. the stretch is perfect, familiar, and you don't stop until you're fully seated in her lap, the toy buried deep.

and then you just... stay.

ellie’s forehead drops to your shoulder, her breath hot against your collarbone. "fuck, baby—"

"shh." you thread your fingers through her hair, holding her close. "just breathe."

she does. slowly, shakily, her body starts to relax against yours. you feel the tension drain from her shoulders as you rock just slightly, barely moving, just enough to remind her you're there, full of her, wrapped around her.

"you feel so good," you murmur, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek. "so perfect inside me."

her grip on your hips tightens. "you’re gonna kill me."

"you needed this." You pull back just enough to look at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "needed to let go."

"I need you," she corrects, voice rough. Her eyes are softer now, the hard edges worn away. "always need you."

you kiss her again, deeper this time, and she moans into your mouth when you clench around the toy. the sound goes straight through you.

"that’s it," you breathe. "just feel me. feel how much I want you."

"fuck—" her hips twitch up involuntarily, and you gasp at the shift, the way it presses deeper. "sorry—"

"don’t be sorry." you roll your hips slowly, deliberately. "you can move. just... stay with me."

so she does. small, shallow thrusts that keep you full and aching, her hands roaming over silk and skin, mapping every inch of you like she's memorizing it. you rock together in a rhythm that's less about chasing release and more about connection,about being as close as two people can be.

"love you," ellie whispers against your throat. "love you so fucking much."

"I love you too." you tug her hair gently, making her look at you. "

eventually, you feel her start to tremble, not from stress this time, but from the building heat between you. you pick up the pace just slightly, grinding down harder, and her moan is desperate.

"you’re so good to me," she gasps. "so fucking good—"

"always," you promise. "always gonna take care of you."

when she finally breaks, it's with your name on her lips and her face buried in your neck. you follow soon after, clenching tight around her as pleasure rolls through you in waves.

you stay like that for a long time, still connected, still wrapped around each other, her softening against you as you stroke her hair.

"better?" you ask eventually.

she nods softly before kissing your forehead and laying on her back

You loved being ellie’s stress reliever

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