[elslvrsworld]

➷｡˚ 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 • she/her, 9teen, black woman, ellies gf, sfw + nsfw blog, slow poster, multifandom, angsty lesbian and mediocre men luvr, irritating swiftie • {🩰}

➷｡˚ dni if under 6teen, if you write abt real ppl, if you’re any kind of bigot, if you don’t care for the genocide in palestine

୨୧ : masterlist · info · request

[valeisaslut]

࿐𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝐜𝐡. 𝐨𝐧𝐞

⚢ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆— Actress!Ellie x Actress!Reader

⊹ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — prom night, seventeen — a pink satin dress pooling at your feet, a black suit worn like she’s still learning how, and the dizzy certainty that the world tilts whenever her eyes find yours. yet years later, los angeles has burnished you into hollywood’s newest starlet, new york has carved ellie into something sharp enough to cut, and the two of you exist only in the periphery. we step into the lives you’ve built, and the threads you thought were severed begin to pull again, quiet but certain, toward something neither of you may be ready to name.

⊹ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓— 15,2k

⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒— LORE PACKED, smut, angst, first time sex (ellie x reader), strap-on sex (reader x abby), explicit sex tape (ellie x reader) , high school prom, young queer love, internalized homophobia, gay slurs in a non homophobic context, parental dismissal, time jumps, jealousy, references to alcohol and drug use, emotional infidelity, tense relationship dynamics (ellie x dina), malicious outing/revenge porn, modern AU, multiple POVs, AFAB!reader, multiple‑part series. minors and men DNI.

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⭒࿐

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

“𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.”

← 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑤𝑜 →

“𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒊𝒕’𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔𝒏’𝒕.

𝑬𝒙𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖—𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔.” — 𝑻𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝒆𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅

𝐁races long gone, but still wearing your glasses—you’d grown into yourself. 

Senior year. Seventeen. Puberty had hit you like a truck in the best way possible, or that's what boys in the hallway whispered now. Boys who barely knew your name before suddenly remembered it—boys who only bothered to acknowledge you after that summer when you came back in crop tops and lip gloss.

But underneath it all, you were still the same girl you’d been on that first day of drama club. The same girl who dreamed about being an actress, who stayed up watching old musicals and reading books under the covers, imagining her name lit up on a poster. The same girl who threw herself into every school play that followed those years like it was Broadway, who loved the stage more than anything else.

Well, not more than anything.

Because, for their bad luck, your heart had already been stolen—completely, irreversibly—by Ellie Williams.

What a blessing in disguise your nerdy best friend turned out to be. When you’re in love—especially in high school—it’s like the whole world gets handed to you through rose-colored glass.

Every smell feels richer, every color brighter, every rush of happiness impossibly intense. And Ellie… Ellie had a way of loving that was so painfully tender, it melted you like ice in July.

She’d grown, sure—but only in age. She never lost her nerdy habits, her childish sense of humor, or her kid-like taste in movies. Ellie grew in the way that was the most beautiful to witness: keeping all the best, purest parts of herself, but maturing them into something even more extraordinary.

And whatever it was—whatever this was—it was changing you. Since that day in the dressing room when she blurted out her feelings, nothing in your life had felt the same. That tingling, heart-in-your-throat rush of knowing you’re loved—it was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever experienced. The way a single glance from her could rearrange your entire day.

But those moments, we’ll remember them later. 

Because tonight… tonight was prom.

Prom day. The day every girl dreams of after seeing it in movies, the day everyone secretly builds up in their head, wrapped in glitter and slow songs.

You smoothed down your light pink dress, satin pooling like molten glass between your fingers, cinched tight at the waist so the skirt flared out in a soft, romantic shape. The fabric caught the light, glowing faintly under the small lamp on your desk.

You had spent an hour doing your hair just so, another thirty minutes doing your makeup, another thirty minutes pressing the hem of the dress, and another fifteen dabbing perfume at the base of your throat until it clung to your skin.

Down the hall, Caroline’s bedroom door was cracked just enough for her voice to carry.

“So you’re really going with her?”

It wasn’t curious, it was flat as a line. You’d heard versions of it before—her voice, your mom’s, sometimes even your own when you weren’t ready to answer. 

When you’d told them you were dating Ellie, the kitchen had gone so quiet you could hear the hum of the refrigerator. Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line, Sarah exchanging that quick, sharp look with Caroline that said we knew it, like it was some secret they’d been keeping from you.

No yelling, no tears—just that awful brand of disapproval that sounded polite but actually was a locked door.

Your mom had only said you looked “pretty” earlier, in the noncommittal tone she used when she couldn’t decide if it was a compliment or a critique. She’d seen you at the mirror doing your makeup and hadn’t even asked to help with the clasp on your necklace or to fix the back where you couldn’t reach. 

Somewhere between you falling for a girl and refusing to drop either of the two things she didn’t approve of—acting and Ellie—she had quietly given up. Not with a fight, not with a scene. Just… silence. Like she’d crossed you off some invisible list in her head.

Your dad wasn’t here anymore—hadn’t been for a while—and in the hollow space he left, your mom’s opinions had only grown sharper, your sisters only a mirror to them. 

But tonight, you decided you weren’t making space for any of it.

From the kitchen now, your mom called, “You could still go with a group of friends. It’s safer… better.” That pause after better, the one that carried more weight than the word itself, was a language you knew by heart.

But you didn’t doubt, not this time. You adjusted the strap on your shoulder and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “I don’t care what y'all think. I’m going with Ellie.”

The sound of a truck pulling into the driveway cut through the tension, and you’d know the uneven purr of that engine anywhere. You pushed away from your vanity, taking one last look in the mirror, then moved to the window just in time to see it—Joel’s truck, its headlights spilling across the lawn. But Joel wasn’t in the driver’s seat. Ellie was.

You caught yourself smiling before you even meant to, rushing to go downstairs.

A knock came at the door. Your mom got there first, opening it with a polite-but-not-too-warm smile. 

Ellie stood on the porch. “H-hi, Mrs. Y/L/N,” she said, hands shoved into her pockets, voice a little rough like she’d rehearsed it on the drive over and it still came out wrong.

“Ellie,” your mom replied flatly. “Come in.”

Ellie stepped inside in a black suit, jacket and white shirt both a little too big and wrinkled, tie loose and knotted like she’d watched a YouTube tutorial and lost patience halfway through. Those same battered black converse she always wore instead of polished shoes. Her hair was short now, the top half pulled back messily with a tie you knew she probably found on her nightstand. 

She looked… God, she looked like every slow-burning, heart-aching song you’d ever loved.

Her gaze flickered past Sarah leaning in the hallway—a glance, nothing more—before locking onto the staircase. Onto you.

You were only halfway down when you felt it, that invisible thread pulling taut between you. Her eyes caught you mid-step, and for a second, she forgot how to stand. Her shoulders eased, her mouth parted slightly, as though your very presence had undone every defense she’d ever learned to keep.

It hit her in the chest, a windless punch—as if the ghost of love had knocked the air right out of her lungs, but in a way that didn’t hurt. You were framed in the amber light from the hallway, the satin of your dress catching it just enough to make you look unreal, like something she’d been sketching in the margins of her notebooks for years and suddenly brought to life.

“...Wow,” she breathed, quiet and reverent, meant for you alone.

“Hi” You grinned when you finally stepped in front of her, heat blooming in your cheeks at her reaction. “You clean up nice.”

She glanced down at herself and smiled fairly, shy. “Yeah, well… you look like you just stepped out of one of those old movies. The kind where the guy never shuts up about the girl for the rest of his life.”

Your mom cleared her throat, but you didn’t look at her. 

“Good thing I’m not going with a guy,” you teased, stepping closer.

Ellie’s lips quirked. “Even better.”

You lingered there for a beat, half-expecting—half-hoping—for your mom, Caroline or Sarah to reach for a phone, to at least pretend to want a picture. That’s what family did, right? Stand you by the door, make you smile too wide, insist on “one more” until you’re late. But their hands were empty, no intention of documenting this night. Just stillness. Waiting for you to leave. Classic, why were you even surprised?

For a moment, the room was a strange balance, and then Ellie reached for your hand. Her palm was warm, steady, grounding you in the one thing you were sure of.

“You ready?” she asked softly, her thumb brushing against your knuckles, voice barely rising.

“Yeah,” you said.

From the doorway, your mom didn’t move. She just crossed her arms loosely over her chest and said, almost bored, “Have fun, girls.” Your sisters just waved lazily, eyes half on you. No smiles. No real goodbyes. 

Ellie opened the door of the truck for you, her hand grazing the small of your back as you slid into the passenger seat. The night air followed you in, cool against your flushed skin before the solid thunk of the door sealed you inside. She rounded the hood and dropped into the driver’s seat, shutting the world out with the rumble of Joel’s old Chevy—beaten-up, dependable, smelling faintly of pine air freshener and the mints she always chewed when she was nervous.

Her hands were locked around the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles pale. You could see the muscle ticking in her jaw, lips twitching at the corners like she was trying to wrestle them into something neutral, something not so transparent.

You reached over, fingers brushing against the warm give of her thigh through her suit pants. She flinched, just barely, even though you’d been closer than this. But something about tonight—seeing you in that shimmering pink dress, picking you up like she was the lucky one—made her hands sweat and her heart race like she was fourteen again, sitting in drama club beside you and trying not to stare too long.

“Baby,” she said, aiming for casual and missing completely, landing somewhere between breathless and whiny. “You look so pretty I think I might crash this truck.”

You laughed, hand sliding a little higher on her thigh, feeling the twitch of muscle beneath your palm. “Guess I’ll just have to trust your driving skills, then.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, shifting gears, “you might regret that. I’ve been distracted all night.” She flicked her eyes toward you, quick but burning, before snapping them back to the road.

You leaned closer, your perfume mixing with the scent of her mints, your lips brushing her cheek as you kissed her once, soft and quick. She turned pink instantly, the blush spilling down her neck and blooming high into her ears. She was so hopeless when it came to you, even after all this time.

“Eros,” you whispered, your voice lilting, teasing, sickeningly sweet, “you’re blushing.”

She groaned, dragging her free hand down her face like it might hide her. “You promised we weren’t doing the Sappho lover names thing in public.”

“Well,” you said, grinning, “we aren’t in public. This is our space.”

She shook her head, but you could see the smile fighting its way across her mouth. “Still… it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” You arched a brow. “Or romantic?”

“Both,” she admitted, glancing at you again, eyes soft in a way that made your chest ache. “Mostly romantic. Just… dangerous for my ego.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smirk. “We promised, remember?”

Her grin broke free like she couldn’t help it. “Yeah, of course we did.” She tightened her grip on the wheel, then loosened it again, voice quieter now. “Atthis.” 

She said it like the name was a charm only she got to keep. And, she was completely right about that.

When you pulled up to the school gym, the night was already alive—music pounding through the walls, fairy lights strung across the courtyard, couples and clusters of friends laughing, swaying, posing. Ellie helped you out of the truck like you were the most delicate thing she’d ever held, her hand lingering at your waist longer than it needed to. People stared—of course they did—but neither of you noticed. Or maybe you did, but you just didn’t care.

You danced. God, you danced.

She couldn’t keep her hands off you. You couldn’t stop laughing. Every song became your song. Every spin made your dress flare like something out of a movie, and Ellie, for all her nerdy, awkward coolness, spun you as if she'd practiced it a hundred times in her head.

“I’m having the best night of my life,” she whispered in your ear during a slow song, her hand splayed across your lower back.

“I know,” you whispered back, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “Me too.”

The announcement was a blur, muffled under the thump of the bass and the dizzy spin of colored lights. Neither of you even heard your names—too busy tangled together in the dark corner, the taste of fruit punch and mint gum between you making out like delinquents in love—until someone barreled into you from behind, breathless and laughing, shouting.

“Go! You won prom queens! GO!”

You barely had time to pull apart—let alone figure out what the hell was going on—before you were being herded through the crowd, Ellie’s hand locked in yours, her other still half clutching her loosened tie.

You twisted to look at her over your shoulder, half-laughing, half-breathless. “Ellie, what the actual fuck is happening? We didn’t even—”

She grinned at you, all faux innocence, green eyes dazzling under the lights. “The universe?” she offered, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You snorted, shaking your head as you stumbled up the steps to the stage. It was insane. Two drama club dorks—you two—being crowned prom queens? It didn’t make sense at all. 

What you didn’t know then—and what you still don’t know to this day—is that Ellie had found a way to sneak into the Prom Committee’s little office weeks earlier and rig the entire vote.

Every. Single. One. Just so she could give you the best night possible.

She kept laughing under her breath as you were herded toward the stage, she still couldn’t believe her ridiculous plan had actually worked. Shaking her head, muttering half-formed curses under her breath, she looked like she was about to call bullshit at any second.

But when you reached the top of the stage and the roar of cheering hit all at once, you saw it happen—her shoulders dropped, the tension unspooling, faltering into shyness at the sudden weight of everyone’s eyes on her.

They placed the sashes over your chests and the shiny crowns on your heads—yours settling neatly into place, hers tilting crooked over her half-tied hair—and the gym roared again. For a moment, you just stood there under the bright heat of the stage lights, the strange weight of the crown pressing down, her warm hand wrapped around yours.

Then Ellie leaned in, her breath brushing your ear, voice meant for you and you alone. “You’re the love of my life.”

It was quick, rushed, but her voice was steady and certain in a way that made your chest ache, and when you turned to look at her with starry eyes, she was already smiling at you like she’d been waiting her whole life to say it.

Someone in the front shouted, “Smile!” and you barely had time to turn toward the flash before Ellie’s hands were on your face, pulling you in. She kissed you right there on stage, laughing against your mouth as if the rest of the world had fallen away, holding you tight against her chest.

The first Polaroid slid out a few seconds later—warm in your palm, the image bleeding into focus. Hazy around the edges, but center all you and her: your eyes closed, her hands on your face, crowns crooked, your arms looped around her neck, both of you smiling into the kiss like it was the only thing you’d ever needed. They called for another, and this time you both turned to face the camera, smiling ear to ear, sashes glossy, arms wrapped around each other.

You kept the first. Ellie claimed the second.

The night only got more impossible from there—two drama club kids, prom queens, dancing like they owned the floor in front of the entire school. The DJ kept throwing you winks between songs, your classmates cheering and laughing every time you spun each other around.

The gym lights caught the glitter on your dresses and jackets, making the whole room feel surreal, as if you’d stepped straight into some over-the-top teen movie ending. Every song bled into the next, your hands never letting go. Your cheeks ached from smiling so wide, but you didn’t care. In that moment, it felt impossible to imagine smiling for anyone else.

And when the party ended, you both had... plans. Unspoken, but obvious. The kind of plans that didn’t need words because they were already written all over the way you kept looking at each other.

In the backseat of the truck, parked under the lone flickering streetlight at the far edge of the school lot, you crawled into her lap, your paper crown sliding down over one eye. Her hands found your hips—sweaty, shaky—but still certain enough to memorize the exact weight of you settling into her thighs.

Ellie swallowed hard, her voice breaking a little. “Hi.”

You smiled, brushing your nose against hers. “Hi.”

Her mouth twitched like she wanted to be cocky but couldn’t quite land it. “You, uh… you’re really close right now.”

“That’s kind of the point, baby,” you teased.

“Right, yeah, I know.” She laughed nervously, fingers flexing. “I just… don’t want to mess this up.”

You tilted your head, studying her gorgeous freckled face in the uneven glow. All soft features and even softer intentions. “You’re not going to mess it up.”

“You sure? Because my heart is doing this really stupid fast thing, and I think my hands forgot how to work.”

You grinned, looping your arms loosely around her neck. “I’m sure. I’m ready."

That seemed to knock the air out of her, her breath catching as her shoulders dropped just a fraction. “Okay,” she murmured, almost to herself, and then she was smiling—shy and crooked, like she couldn’t believe what was always bound to happen.

You were both still dizzy from everything, but mostly from the slow-burn charge that had been simmering for years. You’d both thought about it—God, you’d thought about it—but you were too shy, even after two years together, to cross the line. Total losers, what can we say.

Nothing had gone further than that one time you took your shirt off and she nearly came in her Superman boxers, hands hovering uselessly in the air as she blabbered nonsense. Poor thing—first time seeing real-life tits. Joel had walked in with snacks thirty seconds later, and that was that.

You don’t talk about that incident.

But when you finally kissed her, it wasn’t like the messy, stolen moments in dark corners or the clumsy make-outs in your rooms. This was slower, deeper, the kind of kiss you could live inside. Her thumb traced lazy circles into the small of your back, but her grip on your hips turned firm, almost desperate.

You giggled into her mouth, the sound breaking when she shifted beneath you, her hands sliding lower to drag you closer. Her smile against your lips was steady, sure. She believed every unspoken thing passing between you.

Somewhere in the warmth of her lap, with her mouth brushing over your neck and your fingers tangling in her hair, the laughter faded into quiet, nervous gasps. Soft, breathless whispers of “Are you sure?” and “Can I?” threaded between kisses—the kind of questions you only ever ask once, the kind that belong to a single night in your life. Your hands shook a little, not from hesitation, but from the electricity of knowing that this was it. Your first time. Hers too.

Clothes shifted awkwardly, clumsy at first, the both of you fumbling and laughing under your breath before slowing down, becoming more careful. Skin found skin, and the air inside the truck thickened, each inhale heavy with heat and the faint rattle of the streetlight outside.

She looked at you more than she touched you at first, her gaze consuming, like she was afraid to forget a single detail of your face. Her hands were shaky but certain, sliding over you with the reverence of someone who finally gets to materialize a fantasy. When she finally lowered herself between your thighs, it was unhurried, her mouth moving against you with a mix of awe and clumsiness that made your breath hitch.

It wasn’t the how—it was the who. It was the fact that it was Ellie, flushed and grinning through her own nerves, that made you come undone.

In the cramped backseat, the two of you fumbled through angles and space, laughing nervously between gasps when knees knocked against the door. You shifted, she adjusted, until you fit together just right—your legs tangling, hips pressing, finding a rhythm that made the whole world dissolve into heat and movement. It wasn’t graceful, but it worked, and the closeness was almost unbearable—skin to skin, breath to breath, the kind of intimacy that felt like it could swallow you whole.

When it was over, you stayed tangled together, your crowns discarded somewhere on the floor, your clothes wrinkled beyond repair laying there too. Her fingers traced slow, aimless patterns on your bare shoulder. She pressed a kiss into your temple like she couldn’t stop herself, her breath still uneven, and you let yourself believe that you’d spend the rest of your life right there in her arms.

After a stretch of quiet, her voice came shaky, almost unsure. In contrast of the meaning of her words, filled with certainty.

“What I said… up there on the stage—I really meant it. You’re the love of my life. I know you might think I’m crazy, or too young to mean it, or just caught up in the moment… but I’m not. I’m sure.”

You felt your eyes slightly water at the intensity of the moment, of her words, of everything that happened that night combined. You then cupped her face, cradled it as if it was the most fragile thing of the planet. Brushing your thumb over her freckled, balmy cheek, lips hovering against hers.

“God, and you’re mine,” you breathed, the words spilling like they’d been waiting an eternity. “You make me so, so happy. Like no one has ever before.”

You pressed your forehead to hers, voice steadier now. Sure.

“I’m gonna love you forever, Ellie.”

𝑰 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒖𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆. — 𝑺𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒉𝒐, 𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 2

𝐓wenty-six now, Los Angeles has a way of swallowing years without you noticing. 

The air here never feels like it belongs to one season—a sun-bleached haze that makes everything seem timeless, as though nothing bad can touch you if you’re wearing sunglasses and walking fast enough. Your apartment sits high above the city, all glass and white walls and the faint scent of expensive candles you forget to blow out. 

Every morning, you wake to the light spilling in through floor-to-ceiling windows, pooling gold over silk sheets, phone buzzing with messages from your agent, your publicist, your stylist, your day already mapped out before you’ve even taken your first sip of coffee. 

Your face stares back at you from billboards on Sunset Boulevard and magazine covers in checkout aisles, the same face that used to hide behind smudged glasses in high school hallways. The glasses are long gone, the soft edges of your girlhood traded for sharp cheekbones, precise eyeliner, and the kind of hair that only ever looks like this because a team of people are paid to keep it perfect. 

The first time the world noticed you was in blood-slick lighting—the hot final girl in a horror film that came out of nowhere and made you a household name. You screamed convincingly, you ran beautifully, and when you turned around to deliver the killing blow, audiences swore you were born for it.

Chanel calls you their new muse, your mouth painted crimson in campaigns that hang in duty-free airports all over the world. Dior perfume ads run between streaming shows, your smile frozen in perfect, cinematic laughter. 

They call you Hollywood’s new starlet, the girl who made it, the one with the wardrobe of couture gowns and diamond earrings, the one who seems untouchable.

And in some ways, you are—you’ve let go of everything that tied you to your past. You’ve shed the last scraps of the girl who used to linger in empty theater wings after rehearsal just to feel close to a dream. 

Now you live inside it, walking red carpets, sipping champagne at rooftop parties, watching the sun dip below the palm trees from a seat that was always meant for someone important. 

Your sisters still text you sometimes—links to gossip articles or pictures of their kids—but you let the messages sit unread for days, answering only when you kinda feel like it. Your mom calls on holidays, her voice softer now, though she still manages to slip in a line or two about how different you are.

“I’m glad you finally found a man you can settle with,” she said four years ago when you started publicly dating him, her tone half-approval, half-relief, like she’s been holding her breath for years and can finally exhale. “When are we gonna meet Chris?”

You pressed the phone tighter to your ear, a smile curving that you know she can’t see. “Soon, Mom,” you murmur, gaze drifting to the city skyline outside your window.

“He seems like a good one. Stable.”

“Yeah. He’s great.”

You keep your voice steady, polite, hanging on the surface of the conversation until it feels safe to say, Well, I should get going, and end the call before it can sink its teeth into you.

Family is something you keep at arm’s length, a place you visit but never stay in.

Los Angeles is your home now, and you’re finally shining exactly the way you always dreamed you would.

The only person you have that feels the closest to family is Rachel, who has been with you since the very start. She was there before the public learned how to say your name without stumbling, back when your career was nothing more than a gamble and a final-girl scream. 

She’d been assigned to you as a publicist on that movie. You were twenty-one, still figuring out your angles, running barefoot through fake blood while production lights made your skin feel like it was about to melt. Rachel was fresh out of an assistant job then, sharp-tongued and sharper-minded, with a perfectly arched brow that could cut through a man’s ego in under three seconds. 

Somewhere between surviving that press tour together—dodging creepy “method” questions from middle-aged interviewers, laughing until you cried in the back of Ubers after bad premieres, holding each other’s hair back at 3 a.m. after after-parties that got out of hand—she stopped being your publicist and became something else entirely.

Your manager, yes. But also the closest thing you had to a real friend in this city. 

In an industry where smiles were just sales pitches and friendships came with NDAs, Rachel was the only person you knew would never sell you out.

Now, she is draped over the corner of your enormous white couch, blazer resting on the coffee table, glass of red balanced lazily between her fingers. Her heels are kicked off by the door, and the faint city glow bleeds in through the balcony windows, highlighting her brunette curtain bangs.

“Ya' know,” she says, tipping her wine toward you, New York accent slipping through, “I think this is gonna be the one.”

You raise a brow from your spot across from her, tucked into the couch with your knees pulled up. “The one what?”

“The one that makes you stick,” she says, grinning. “You’ve been killing it, babe, but this romcom—this is career cement. You and Chris? Bantering on rooftops in the golden hour? That shot in the faux snow where you look like you’ve just been kissed for the first time? People eat that shit up.”

You groan, flopping back into the cushions. “Yeah, a shift straight into America’s Sweetheart Land.”

Rachel smirks. “Could be worse. You could be doing Hallmark Christmas movies with titles like A Latte Love.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you mutter, grinning despite yourself. “At least then I’d get to play a quirky bookstore owner instead of the hot girl who magically falls in love with her coworker after three scenes.”

Rachel swirls her wine, leaning forward. “Look, all I’m saying is: keep the act up until the contract ends. Your agency is obsessed with the idea of you as the next big thing. Young, hot, untouchable. They’ve already decided it works, don’t fuck it just yet.”

You roll your eyes so hard it hurts. “I don’t want to be the next "big thing". I want real roles. I want something complicated, something fucked up and brilliant. I want to play women with teeth.”

Rachel tilts her head. “Okay, Gerwig.”

“I’m serious!”

She softens then, really looking at you. “I know it sucks. But we play the game just long enough to win it, and then you can torch the board and make your own rules.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You make that sound way cooler than it probably will be.”

“It will be cool!” she says, clinking her glass against your water bottle. “And when you finally get your Oscar for some drama where you wear no makeup and cry for two hours straight, I’ll be in the front row, crying harder than you.”

You grin, feeling that familiar warmth—comfort, loyalty, love—settle into your chest. “You’re the best person alive, you know that?”

Rachel leans back, smug. “Tell me something I don’t know, babe.”

Saturday of that week, the cameras are merciless—white-hot bursts of light that felt like they could peel the skin off your face if you looked straight into them too long. 

A storm of heat and noise, the air vibrating with the rise-and-fall of your names being screamed from behind barricades. It was the kind of chaos you’d learned to walk through without blinking, without tripping, without letting a single flicker of what you actually felt show up in the photos that would be dissected online before you’d even gotten home.

You and Chris glide through it like the publicist-trained, media-friendly, movie-poster couple you were—his hand at the small of your back, your arm hooked loosely through his, every step in sync like a dance you’d both learned before you were even conscious of learning it. 

He smells faintly of Tom Ford Oud Wood. You can feel the rumble of his low, manly laugh against your arm every time one of the reporters shouts something absurd like “When’s the wedding?!”

Chris looked the part—immaculate in a black velvet jacket and a crisp white shirt, tie knotted loose enough to say I’m approachable but not so loose it would ruin the aesthetic. 

America’s favorite new leading man. Tall. Blue eyes. Jawline so sharp it could cut glass. Teeth so white they could star their own Colgate ad.  

Stupidly blonde, stupidly handsome. 

And stupidly gay. 

Not the casual, maybe-he’s-bi kind of gay. Chris was full Broadway-musical-references, ten-step-skin-routine, cries-at-the-finale-of-Drag Race gay. No man that looked so clean could possibly be straight, but Chris had perfected the art of pretending. 

He was so good at it—so good at slipping into that rugged, easygoing leading man routine whenever a camera found him—that sometimes you wondered if he’d missed his true calling as a con artist. The jaw set just right, the laugh pitched low, the kind of gaze that middle-aged women called “dreamy” on Facebook.

Off-camera, he was all sarcastic wit and exaggerated dramatics, making you wonder how on earth anyone ever bought him as the romantic lead in straight romcoms, but in the spotlight? He could sell the illusion so well you almost believed it yourself, and then think, oh… right. That’s why he’s an actor.

You were in silver silk tonight, bias cut so it clung and fell exactly right with every step, the train shining over the carpet like a constellation, cleavage deep enough to be sexy but not vulgar.

Together you look like a studio’s wet dream—marketable, bankable, and photogenic enough to sell every last ticket to the movie you were here to premiere: When We Fell.

You stop in front of a particularly aggressive cluster of photographers shouting your names in unison. Chris tilts his head slightly toward you, keeping his smile camera-ready but murmuring under his breath, 

“So… what are we calling this? I’m going for raging lesbo and premium faggot.”

Your lips curve wider for the cameras, but your voice stays dry. “Bitch, don’t call it that.”

His eyes sparkle, “What? You don’t think it’ll trend?”

“I think it already has,” you whisper, turning your head just enough to give the photographers your good side.

The irony was that somewhere in the chaos of press tours, red carpets, and whispered PR memos, you and Chris had actually become really close over the years—bonded over the constant performance of pretending to be straight for your careers, and now for the promo of the movie. “We’re literally Barbie and Ken. Lavender soulmates.” he’d declared once over overpriced hotel martinis, and you’d almost spat yours out. The industry could kill you tomorrow and you’d still be grateful for having him in the trenches.

Another volley of flashes went off. Somewhere to your left, a reporter yells “How did you two meet?” Chris leaned in so his mouth hovered just at your ear, his voice pitched in that silky, conspiratorial way that never failed to make the gossip mags foam.

“Think they’d buy Tinder again?”

“I can hear your Grindr notifs from here, fag.” you bit back a laugh, teeth barely parting.

“You’re right,” he whispers with mock gravity. “Tell them you swiped right for my jawline.”

“Tell them you begged for my number,”

“Tell them it was love at first sight.” He smiles like he'd just said the most romantic thing in the world to you, and in reality you just want to elbow him in the ribs.

You move forward again, the wall of screaming fans getting closer, the sound like an incoming tide. And then—casually, as if it had just floated into his head, or maybe like fate had been sitting in the corner all night, waiting for its cue to ruin it—Chris says,

“Hoe, have you seen that new series—the one starring Ellie Williams?”

The name lands like a sucker punch—low, precise, merciless—sliding under your ribs and detonating in your chest with the kind of force that made you momentarily forget how to breathe.

The world doesn't tilt exactly, but it presses in, the carpet beneath your heels suddenly too steady, the lights too bright. And still, you don't let your face betray you.

So you just blink once and lie, “…Uhm. Nope.”

Chris, oblivious to the scar tissue he’d just grazed, keeps moving, hand still light at the small of your back. 

“Giiiiirl, it’s unreal. Like, actually unreal. You have to watch it, it's called Backstage. HBO dumped a ridiculous amount of money into it, and she serves SO much cunt in it it's insane. Plays an addict, dropped a ton of weight for the role. The little dyke can ACT.”

And you—God, you knew. 

You didn’t need him to tell you how good she was. 

“I'll... take a look when i can.” you whisper more than say, words careful, as if you were stepping barefoot over broken glass.

And Chris—smart, perceptive Chris—notices. He sees the way your spine goes rigid, how the light in your face shifts by degrees cameras can't catch. But he doesn't comment, tease, or ask. Instead, he smiles for the world, presses his palm a little more firmly at the small of your back, and steers you toward the next round of flashing lights.

After the premiere, the night stretched in gold and neon, the way only Los Angeles can when the whole city seems to be watching. 

The afterparty was at some glass-and-chrome rooftop bar downtown, the kind of place where the walls were made of windows and the drinks cost more than your shared rent used to.

Chris was in his element—laughing that broad, camera-trained laugh, shaking hands with the people who could make his career stretch another decade if they wanted. You’d gotten good at that too, at the air-kisses and easy banter, at smiling like you’d been born in heels, like champagne didn’t burn your throat on the way down.

The music was loud enough to blur thought, the bass vibrating in your sternum, the lights splintering into hundreds of tiny gold stars on the glass walls. You move through conversations like you're floating, the hem of your gown gathered in your fingers, your cheeks warm from liquor and attention. 

People keep telling you the film was magical, that you and Chris have real chemistry that translated on screen, that this was the start of something huge. You smile, you nod, you thank them.

You dance with Chris—just a little, swaying with a martini in hand, your hair falling in a way you knew would make the next day’s party coverage.

And when the photographers had all been escorted out, you dance with him for real, clumsy and grinning, the two of you laughing about which gossip blogs would call you “engaged” tomorrow.

But somewhere between your third champagne flute, your second martini, and the endless parade of compliments, you feel it. 

That hollow that has a name and a face, the way the bottom of you goes soft, goes thin. You quickly duck into the bathroom, excusing yourself away from the noise, away from Chris and the industry and the weight of your own smile.

The moment the door latches behind you, it hits.

Ellie.

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

Her name loops in your head like a broken radio you can’t turn off, like a song you forgot the meaning of, but your body still remembers the rhythm.

What a name. What a fucking person.

You see her like you always did—half-memory, half-fantasy. The way she used to smile at you across the room like you were her favorite thing in the world. The way her hand felt at the back of your neck when she pulled you into a kiss like the world could end before morning.

You think you’re over it, over her, until it happens again—someone saying her name, her face in a poster, her voice in a late night interview. And then your chest pulls tight in the same painful way, like grief or déjà vu or both.

You lean against the sink, marble cold against your palms, and let yourself break for a minute. Tears start forming, hot and uninvited. 

You hate how easily they come, how quickly the thought of her can undo the careful scaffolding you’d built around yourself. You blink them away, but they slide down anyway, cutting balmy paths over your cheeks.

You hadn’t seen Ellie in six years. Not in the flesh, not in the ways that counted. You’d only seen her in posters, splashed across bus stops and billboards, in Twitter clips that autoplayed when you were trying to scroll past without watching, in the curated chaos of social media feeds where her name trended for days at a time. 

You’d seen her on red carpets at premieres—roles you’d once dreamed of taking yourself, roles you’d auditioned for and lost. 

And every single time, the universe reminded you: Ellie got them instead.

She had every role you’d ever wanted to star in. The gritty dramas, the character studies critics wrote essays about. She was magnetic and disciplined and devastatingly good in ways you’d always known she would be if the world ever got the chance to see her.

She had the career you’d scribbled into your diary at fifteen—except it wasn’t yours, it was hers. And she had the kind of public adoration that could crush you if you thought about it too long.

And she wasn’t alone. No, Ellie Williams—same Ellie Williams who once told you you were the love of her life—was in a relationship now. 

With a model. Dina, if you remember right.

Who the fuck are you even kidding—you remember her name perfectly.

You’d seen the pictures. Paparazzi candids of them holding hands in Central Park, red carpet appearances, fingers laced, Dina in something couture and lethal. They were beautiful together, sickeningly beautiful. 

And the worst part? They looked real. Real in a way that made your stomach pitch like you’d swallowed something spoiled. You wanted to vomit right there and then on the sink just at the thought of it.

Because she could be as lesbian as she wanted. As dramatic as she wanted. As adored as she wanted. She could kiss her girlfriend in public and be praised for it. She could walk into interviews and talk about her roles and her partner without a single care for who was listening. 

And you—well, you’re the one who can’t even say she kissed a girl once.

You resent that. 

Just a little. 

A little bit a lot.

You saw her face everywhere, and it wasn’t fair—wasn’t fucking fair—that it was still as beautiful as the first time you saw it. Only now her features were a touch sharper, her expressions refined to camera-perfect precision, her freckles a shade darker, her gaze sharpened into something deadly.

But you could still spot it, buried there. The glow in her eyes, that spark she couldn’t quite scrub out with all the fame and control and discipline in the world. 

You saw the girl you’d known, the girl you’d loved.

The train of your gown feels heavy, like you're dragging all of it with you—the years, the resentment, the wound that never seems to fully close. You carry it the way you carry her, the way you’d been carrying her for over half a decade: tucked somewhere deep and hidden, pulsing every time her name is said out loud.

You gently scrub the tears away with the heel of your hand, careful not to ruin the makeup you’d paid someone far too much to perfect. You smooth your hair, press your palms to your cheeks until they feel cool again, and straighten. 

The mirror reflects exactly what you want it to—glamour, control, the kind of woman no one could imagine breaking down in a bathroom over someone she hasn’t actually seen in years.

When you step back into the party, it's quieter. People had begun to drift out, their laughter trailing toward the elevators. Chris was still at the bar, laughing with a director you vaguely knew, but you didn’t feel like weaving your way back to him.

You wanted out. You slip into the corner of the terrace and call her, the wind snatching at the hem of your dress. 

She picks up on the first ring, tone amused. “Miss me already?”

“Come get me,” you say, softer than you mean to.

Twenty minutes later, the sleek black Lamborghini slid up to the curb outside, its windows tinted dark enough to make it look like a shadow on wheels. She was in the driver’s seat, hair pulled back, black bomber jacket over a white tee. 

Even in the low glow of the streetlamps, she looked like she’d just stepped out of a sports magazine—because she probably had, hours before.

Abby Anderson. Hockey player of the season. An entire country’s sports press wrapped around her little finger, her face plastered across billboards and ESPN covers, her name on every commentator’s lips. It was a golden year for her.

When you spotted her through the tinted glass, parked at the curb like she’d been waiting all her life for you to walk toward her, the corner of your mouth tipped up.

Before you even reached the car, your head tilted subtly, scanning the sidewalk, the building, the alley across the street. She knew that look. You were checking for other people, for paparazzi. When you don't spot any long lenses or suspicious phones, your shoulders drop slightly.

The engine stays running. She taps the lock once, and the door pops open for you.

“Hey, babe,” she says the second you open the door, voice warm and easy “Missed you.”

“Missed you more,” you murmur, sliding into the seat and shutting the door.

She turned to look at you, smiling. “How was the premiere?”

You let out a sigh, sinking into the leather seat. “Exhausting. All I wanted to do was get through it so I could see you.” You pause, a wry smile tugging at your mouth. “Chris kept making me laugh, though.”

Her eyes flicker toward you for half a second before glancing down. “Chris… right.” There was a weight in her tone you didn’t push at.

Her gaze drifts over you again—your gown, your hair, your shiny eyes, the faint flush still warm on your cheeks. It lingers, slow enough to make your stomach tighten.

“…Wow,” she said, low, almost to herself. “You look… gorgeous.”

You feel heat creep up your neck, smiling. You slowly lean across the console, your hand cupping her jaw, and kiss her.

It was different with Abby. Not easier, not harder—just different. She tasted like spearmint gum and faintly like whiskey, and her hands were steady even when yours weren’t.

You’d started seeing each other almost a year ago, after she slid into your dm's. Classic. Slow at first, stolen moments between press tours and training schedules, furtive and stealthy, the kind of thing you could hide under headlines about other people. No interviews, no photos, no speculation. Just her hotel rooms and your late-night calls, the text threads that grew into entire conversations about nothing and everything.

At first it was just sex. The kind of messy, can’t-catch-your-breath, skin-on-skin collision you’d only read about. She fucked you like you were a match she needed to win, and you fucked her back like she was the air you needed to breathe. You both worked perfectly.

But somewhere along the way, maybe after that weekend in Chicago, maybe the night she stayed on the phone with you until you fell asleep, it stopped being just that.

She got you in a way few people ever had. You got her too—the quiet after her games, the way she lit up when talking about her interests, the soft edge in her voice when she told you about her dad's cooking. 

She was kind to you, sweet even when you didn’t feel like you deserved it. And little by little, you’d started to feel it again—that warm, terrifying thing you hadn't felt since you were fifteen. 

The edge of falling in love.

She was helping you heal in ways you didn’t know you needed. And you could feel it, in the way she looked at you—like she'd always been in love with you, and was just waiting for you to catch up.

The gown whispered against the leather seats as you climbed over the console and into her lap, your lips not detaching from hers, silk pooling like liquid silver. The slit of the dress slid higher and higher until cool air touched the inside of your thigh, until Abby’s hands—big, strong, certain—were there to span the bare skin, thumbs pressing just enough to let you know she could hold you still if she wanted to. 

She was hard beneath you, the familiar, illicit shape of the strap tucked low under her jeans. It pressed into you perfectly as you rolled your hips once, slow, and you felt her jaw clench beneath your palm.

You kiss her hard, you’d been waiting all night—all week—for this exact moment. Her mouth was hot and open against yours, her tongue dragging slow until the breath hitched in your throat. 

The air inside the car was warm from the vents and the heat of her body, but you shiver anyway, something winding tight in your belly as she drags you closer, tighter.

“You know,” Abby murmurs against your lips, the words low enough to vibrate right through your chest, “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It was the kind of line that should’ve made you roll your eyes, that would’ve sounded corny from anyone else—but from her, it landed with a softness that rattled you. 

You almost laugh, almost make a joke to keep yourself from falling too deep, but instead you breathe her in, kiss her again, and let yourself say, “You’re not too bad yourself, Anderson.”

Her grin is small, crooked, like she knew exactly what you meant and what you didn’t.

And then—like a tide you didn’t see coming—it hit. A flicker in the back of your mind, uninvited, unshakable. 

A different night. A smaller lap. A softer jaw. 

The distinct, indelible weight of Ellie.

It was nothing and everything at once, barely a flash and yet it caught in your chest like a shard of glass you couldn’t cough up. You felt it in your ribs, in the pulse at your throat.

She only came unprovoked in nights like this—when the moonlight cut across the city in hard silver lines, when the air carried that same kind of ache and she felt close enough to touch. Close enough that if you turned too quickly, you might catch her standing there.

But why now? Why with Abby? You hated it. Hated her for haunting you. Hated yourself for letting her. And most of all, you hated the thought that maybe this wasn’t just memory, that maybe it was a curse, stitched into your skin.

So you kiss Abby even harder. Let your teeth scrape her lower lip. Roll your hips sharper, faster against the strap pressing into you, chasing the heat, chasing now. She groans into your mouth, her grip on your waist tightening until you were sure there’d be marks in the morning, and that made something dark and sweet curl in your stomach.

“When’s your contract ending?” she suddenly asks between kisses, voice rough with something more than lust. “When’s this whole stupid thing with Chris over?”

You stilled—not entirely, just enough for her to feel it. The question cracks something in the air between you, letting in a sliver of cold.

“Because…” she went on, voice steady even as her chest rose and fell beneath you, “I want to date you for real. I want to take you out and show you off and not give a fuck about what they think. I’m tired of watching you pretend with him. This whole thing they’ve got you doing for the press—it’s bullshit. It's been four years. You deserve better than that.”

The words hang there, heavier than the night itself. Outside, traffic passes in a steady hush, the sound of the city softened by tinted glass. Inside, all you could hear was your own pulse and the low thrum of the engine.

Her eyes didn’t waver. They never did. That was the thing about Abby: she said what she meant, and she meant it. She didn’t care how messy it was, how complicated, how badly it could end. 

She wanted you. Not the press-release version, not the red carpet smile. Just you.

“I... I know… can we not talk about that right now, please?" you finally mutter, voice careful like you were stepping across thin ice. Your gaze slides away from hers, fixing on the blur of city lights outside the tinted window.

“It’s ending soon,” you add after a beat, lying through your teeth, “I promise.”

Her mouth curves at that. Not quite a smile, but close enough to break you a little. She leans forward and kisses you slow, her hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs when she pulls away. “I’ll wait for you.”

And then there was no more talking. 

Just, well. Dirty talking.

Her hands slid lower, over the curve of your ass, pulling you down until the strap was flush against you, the pressure perfect. The world outside blurred to nothing while you focused on the slow, deliberate drag of silk against denim, the friction pooling heat low in your stomach. Abby’s head tipped back against the seat, her eyes half-lidded, fixed on you like she couldn’t decide whether to watch your face or your body.

“You really came prepped for me, huh?” you murmur, breath catching on a laugh that wasn’t entirely steady. “So eager.”

Her mouth curls at the corner, in that lazy knowing smirk that never fails to make your pulse stutter. “When it comes to you?” she say in that way that goes straight to your spine. “Always.”

You hook your fingers under the thin band of your lacy panties, dragging them aside, the damp fabric catching for a moment before you free yourself from it. Your other hand moves to her toned abdomen, fingers curling into the edge of her jeans. You kiss her sloppily while you pop the button, the faint metallic click loud in the quiet, then drag the zipper down in one smooth pull.

She shifts under you, hips lifting to help, breath hitching when you slip your hand inside. Your fingertips brush over the cool leather of the harness, tracing the straps until you find the base of it pressed snug against her. You tug her jeans down just enough for her to spread her legs wider.

The cool air of the car licks over your bare center for only a second before Abby’s hands tightened at your hips, angling you so the head of the strap slid right where you were aching for it. The first nudge against your entrance stole your breath, your fingers curling into her shoulders for balance.

Her gaze dropped immediately, her pupils blown wide until her eyes looked almost black. You lower inch by inch, slow enough to feel everything. The harness sat firm against her hips, unmoving beneath you, and your thighs tremble as you settle all the way down, the sensation so heavy and so right its dizzying.

“...Fuck,” Abby mutters, the curse slipping out like she hadn’t meant to say it. Her knuckles flexe. Her jaw clenchs. And when she looks up at you, her eyes are wide, almost shy beneath the blown pupils.

“Jesus,” she breaths. “You—God, you look so good, babe.” Her voice cracks just a little on babe, her usual bravado fraying at the edges. Abby Anderson—hockey star, record-breaking athlete—was literally trembling under you.

You roll your hips again, slow and deep, and her head drops back against the seat with a low, guttural moan.

“God, Abs,” you pant, nails digging into her shoulders. Your teeth found your lower lip, but the sound still escaped—a high, broken whimper. “You’re so fucking deep…”

“I’m sorry—shit—I’m trying not to come,” Abby admits in a low, wrecked whisper, the words rushing out like a confession. “You’re just—fuck, you drive me crazy.”

You can feel her pulse hammering through every inch of contact. You lean forward, brushing your lips against the shell of her ear.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whisper, voice thick with heat and affection.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” she groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You giggle, even as your hips keep rolling, rhythm growing in speed as you start to bounce, and she chokes out a laugh that dissolves straight into a moan. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding down your thighs—and then one of them slips up, under the fabric of your dress, over your stomach, and settles right at your ribs.

Her thumb brushes over it—just barely, just enough—and you flinch. The tiniest subconscious pullback, instinctive and sharp.

You kiss her quickly, your fingers weaving into her hair, distracting her, guiding her hand gently down to your ass, and she grips the fat of it like she hadn’t noticed the shift at all.

And then you began to ride her in earnest, the leather seat creaking beneath the rhythm, your soft moans and her heavy breathing thickening the scarce air. Your hands brace against her shoulders as you work yourself on her, chasing every drag, every deep push, every perfect meeting of hips.

You don't think about Ellie again that night.

Not until later.

𝐍ew York had a way of sharpening a person, and Ellie had let it cut her down to the bone. 

The city was noisy, unforgiving, and full of people who didn’t give a damn about her unless she was standing under the right lights. But somehow, in this chaos, she’d found her footing. The nights were long and heavy, the air in the winter biting enough to keep you awake, the summer sticky enough to make you curse. 

It suited who she was now—the grit, the stubborn pace, the way the streets were never empty even at four a.m. This wasn’t a place for soft edges. It was a place for work. For ambition. 

And Ellie had both in spades.

Her breakout had been a gamble. An A24 indie with a shoestring budget and an obsession with atmosphere, a slow-burn suspense that crept under your skin and stayed there. 

It became the kind of movie that got compared to Silence of the Lambs, but stranger, more claustrophobic, leaning harder into psychological horror than procedural thrills. She’d played the lead—a magnetic, intelligent woman whose charm was only a mask for something monstrous underneath. The film was shot in dim rooms and shadowed streets, all damp concrete and flickering lights. It wasn’t a role meant to make you like her, it was meant to make you watch her. And critics had.

That was the role that got her a name—not just in the credits, but whispered in casting rooms, scribbled on the shortlists of directors who claimed to hate young actors. 

She could feel it when she walked into a room now: the weight of expectation, the shift in tone when people realized who she was. Ellie Williams. Twenty-two, sharp as glass, able to carry a film on her back without a line being delivered. 

She’d stripped away the quirks and soft edges the world once knew her for, sanding herself down into the kind of person who could command a room with a glance. The awkward hand gestures, the rambling tangents about movies no one had seen, the endless facts about dinosaurs—gone, replaced with a sharp, deliberate cool she’d built piece by piece, exactly how she wanted people to see her. 

It gave her power, made her untouchable. But behind closed doors, when the makeup was off and the city had gone a little more quiet, she still found herself curled up in bed with a stack of dog-eared comics, the panels lit by her bedside lamp, the inked heroes and villains as much a part of her as the name that now carried weight.

And it was after that A24 film that she met Erin. Her agent at the time had insisted she needed “a bigger team,” someone who could “handle the next level.” 

Erin had walked into their first meeting wearing a perfectly tailored blazer and a smile so thin it might as well been a blade. She talked fast, asked pointed questions, and didn’t waste her breath on compliments. 

Ellie had respected that, but the respect hadn’t lasted. Erin was good—damn good—at what she did, but she had a way of treating people like currency, like everything was a transaction, including her. And Ellie, no matter how far she’d come, couldn’t stand being managed like a brand instead of a person.

Their working relationship became… functional. Erin got her into the kinds of rooms most actors her age only dreamed of, and Ellie delivered the performances that kept her there. They weren’t friends. Ellie didn’t trust her entirely and Erin didn’t care to change that. 

Still, Ellie couldn’t deny what the last few years had given her. She’d built a career that wasn’t reliant on anyone else’s shadow. No handouts, no coattails, just her and the work. Directors described her as “fearless” in interviews, critics called her “electric,” and audiences… well, they didn’t know what the hell to do with her half the time, but they couldn’t look away.

She lived in an apartment in Brooklyn now, the kind with exposed brick and uneven floors, more expensive than it should’ve been but worth it for the view. 

At night, she’d sit on the fire escape with a cigarette and watch the city flicker beneath her, the hum of traffic and neon signs making it hard to tell where the noise stopped and she began.

She had convinced herself she could live with the ache and loneliness, could tuck it into the background while she worked and thrived and built a name for herself. She didn’t date much, not really—nothing ever stuck. Just one night-stands and ghosting more girls than she was proud to admit. No one could pull her attention from work.

But, two years ago, in a charity art auction in Manhattan, something changed. She’d gone because Erin told her to, because the right people would be there, because her name was finally big enough to make an appearance matter. The room was all champagne flutes and low, expensive laughter, and Ellie was halfway through pretending to study a painting when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Ellie Williams?”

She turned, expecting another producer, another social climber. But instead, she saw her—Dina.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie said, polite but flat. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” Dina replied with a smile that was more flirtatious than amused. “I’m Dina Woodward. I model for—well, a bunch of people who don’t matter here.”

Ellie smirked despite herself. “Confident. I like that.”

“Please, I’m just here for the free wine.” Dina took a sip, tilting her head at the painting. “Do you actually like this, or are you also pretending?”

Ellie glanced back at the piece—some abstract mess she couldn’t understand—and shrugged. “Pretending.”

“Good. I was worried I’d have to lie to make conversation.”

She’d thought Dina would be shallow, that the conversation would circle around shoots and campaigns and fabrics Ellie didn’t care about. But Dina was sharp. She was funny in a way that felt uncalculated, leaning in to tell her small, ridiculous observations about the room, poking fun at the socialites in the corner without a drop of malice.

By the end of the night, they’d traded numbers. 

What followed wasn’t sudden, just dinners that turned into late nights, late nights that turned into mornings. And somewhere in the blur of weeks, Ellie found herself letting Dina in.

When her latest project began—the HBO series Backstage, where she played a drug-addicted musician spiraling out of control—Dina was the one there in her apartment while she prepared.

Ellie didn’t touch actual drugs, but she buried herself in the role. She studied addicts, shadowed rehab programs, starved herself of sleep and food to understand the fraying edges of someone whose life was all noise and collapse. She lived inside the skin of that character for six months, letting it eat at her until she came out the other side hollow and raw.

She did love Dina, or at least she was trying to. She liked the way Dina made her laugh, the way she seemed to understand that her silences weren’t personal. Dina was warmth in a life that had become colder than she’d intended. 

But no matter how hard she tried, Ellie could feel the edges of something else lingering like the faintest bruise.

And her true friend became someone unexpected.

They’d met on the set of Backstage, back when Ellie was still raw from months of prep and Jesse was the new guy on set with a knack for diffusing tension. He played a supporting character—the drummer of her guitarist's band—and their scenes together had been some of the rare light moments in an otherwise very heavy shoot. 

Off-camera, they’d fallen into an easy camaraderie, trading sarcastic comments between takes, leaning on each other through twelve-hour days. By the end of the shoot, coffee runs had become their thing. It stuck even after production wrapped.

They met at the same café most times, a cramped little place on the Lower East Side that smelled like cinnamon and espresso, where the baristas barely looked up when they came in. Ellie liked that no one there seemed to care who she was. She was already at a corner table when Jesse walked in, his scarf looped haphazardly around his neck, holding two cups.

“Black for you,” he says, setting hers down before sliding into the chair opposite her.

“You remembered,”

“Only because you get unreasonably mad when someone tries to put sugar in your coffee.”

“Because it’s a crime,” Ellie replies flatly, then takes a sip. “And I’m not visiting you in prison if you commit it.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the street noise filtering in from outside.

“You know,” Ellie starts, resting her forearms on the table, “sometimes I think this whole industry’s like Spider-Man.”

Jesse pauses mid-sip. “What?”

“Like, great power, great responsibility—except instead of, like, saving people, you’re just stuck choosing between selling your soul or starving. And even if you choose right, sometimes you still get eaten alive by some guy in a green suit throwing bombs.”

“Green suit?” Jesse frowns, brows knitting. "...Ellie, are you on drugs?"

Ellie tilts her head at him. “You don't know… the Green Goblin?”

“The… what?”

“…You’ve never seen Spider-Man?!”

“Nope.” He says it without a hint of shame, leaning back in his chair.

Ellie sits back, incredulous. “Not even one of them? Not Tobey Maguire, not Andrew Garfield, not Tom Holland?!”

“Nope, nope, and nope.”

Her jaw drops. “That’s… actually upsetting, man. Like, I don’t even know how to talk to you right now. I don't even know if we can be friends anymore.”

“Come on,” Jesse says, grinning. “I grew up on Star Wars, not superheroes. My pop culture education is just… different.”

“Different as in lacking the emotional weight of Uncle Ben’s death? Yeah, I’d say so.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re acting like this is a moral failing.”

“It is.” she says, dead serious. “You can’t just walk around in life without knowing the responsibility speech. That’s, like, a cornerstone of human existence.”

Jesse raises an eyebrow. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m an actor,” she shoots back, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “And you’re deeply misinformed.”

But even as the words left her, smooth and light, something sour twisted in her chest.

She took a slow sip of coffee, eyes drifting down to her own forearm. The bold, intricate tattoo of moths and ferns curled there like an armor—covering something smaller beneath it. Something older she once swore she’d never hide.

It was stupid, but the ache came anyway.

Someone she loved would’ve gotten the reference immediately. Would’ve grinned and thrown it back at her in a god-awful Willem Dafoe voice, dragging the lines into a cartoon-villain snarl until she was wheezing with laughter.

That someone used to be you.

Even after the move to New York, even after the awards, the black-tie events, the interviews where she played at mystery—Ellie had still been in love with you. It wasn’t the loud kind. It lived in quiet corners of her day, tucked into the lyric of a song, a scent caught in passing, a stranger’s laugh across a subway platform. Love that didn’t announce itself, but never really leaves.

Now, it was constant.

You were everywhere. On subway ads, in commercials, on the sides of buses and splashed three stories tall across Times Square. The face she first traced with trembling fingers at fifteen had become something glossy and untouchable—lit just right, framed by diamonds and marketing teams.

And always, he was beside you.

Chris. The safe bet. The blue-eyed, charming, all-American poster boy. You smiled next to him in every interview, every press appearance, every viral red carpet moment.

You’d changed. She could see it in your laugh, more practiced now, stripped of the little squeak it used to have and she used to dream about. In the way your voice wrapped itself around soundbites instead of truths. But sometimes, just sometimes, she swore the girl she loved still flickered behind your eyes, trying to breathe through the image.

The truth—the ugly, quiet truth—was that so much of who Ellie had become had been shaped by losing you. By the silence after. The reinvention, the polish, the icy precision—it was all armor. And it still wasn’t enough.

Because every time she saw your face, whether in a romcom montage or trending online, her chest pulled tight. Not for the girl you were now, but for the one who used to swear you’d never leave her. The one who used to say she was your future.

And now? You smiled through photo ops and held hands with the man of your dreams, like you hadn’t once promised forever in the backseat of her truck.

She hated you for that—for becoming a ghost she could never shake, for turning the fiercest love of her life into something half-imagined.

For forcing her to deny you, because you were the first one to do it.

Jesse’s phone buzzes against the table, rattling the quiet, and Ellie blinked—snapped from the spiral like waking from a dream. He glanced at it, the easy humor in his face shifting to something softer. His thumb brushed over the screen, and the corners of his mouth lifted in this unconscious, private smile. He typed quickly, backspacing once, then sending whatever it was.

“Hey,” he says, sliding the phone into his pocket, “I’m gonna have to cut this short.”

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Work thing?”

“Something like that,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone casual.

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“I’m not lying,” he protests, smiling like he knew he’d been caught anyway.

Ellie lets it drop, though curiosity lingers in the way she watches him gather his coat. When he stands, the screen of his phone lights up again in his hand. She catches it in a quick, unthinking glance—just a flash of the message before he locks it.

can’t wait to see you tonight

“See you next week?” Jesse asks.

“Yeah,” she says, a faint smirk on her face. “And seriously, watch Spider-Man before then. I’m not talking to you about anything else until you do.”

He laughs as he heads for the door, leaving her alone with a cooling coffee.

Weeks later, the Emmys are a blur of light and movement, the kind of night that hums with electricity from the moment Ellie stepped onto the red carpet. 

Cameras flashed in rapid bursts, reporters call her name, and the weight of the evening settles into her shoulders with every step she took beside Dina. They’d gone public months ago—premiere night for Backstage—and since then, they’d been photographed enough together to feed gossip columns for years. 

Dina was radiant in a black satin gown, the fabric catching the light with every step, her curls framing her face in perfect, glossy spirals. Every tilt of her chin, every shift of her hip was deliberate—practiced poses honed from years in front of lenses. 

Her arm was looped through Ellie’s, who wore a perfectly tailored suit, the cut sharp enough to look effortless, not a wrinkle in sight. The gleam of polished dress shoes caught beneath the hems, and together their smiles fell into sync—easy, seamless, the kind of chemistry that photographed well. 

Inside the theater, Ellie could feel the air shift as the categories moved closer to hers. She tried not to fidget, tried not to think about the clip that would play in front of millions, the sound of her own voice echoing off the walls. 

Dina’s hand rested lightly on her knee, grounding but not quite touching the storm brewing under her skin. On her other side, Jesse leaned in every few minutes to whisper some dumb comment—half about the teleprompter, half about the people in the front row—that made her bite down on a grin she was trying to keep under control. 

She could already see the moment in her head, already hear the presenter’s voice calling her name, and the thought alone was enough to make her pulse hammer.

When the envelope tore open and she heard it for real—“Ellie Williams, Backstage!”—the rush hit her all at once, sharp and dizzying. Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series. She stood so fast she almost tripped, her breath catching in her throat. Dina rose with her, slipping her arms around her neck and pulling her in close.

“Oh my god, baby!” Dina murmured in her ear, her voice warm and steady over the roar of applause. “I knew you’d do it!”

Ellie gave a small, breathless laugh, the kind that barely made it past her lips. “Guess you were right, love,” she said, almost swallowed by the noise. 

The crowd’s applause swelled, deafening. She hugged Dina back, holding onto her for a heartbeat longer than necessary—long enough to feel the curve of her smile against her cheek—but she didn’t kiss her. For some reason, she just… didn’t.

As she turned to head for the stage, she stuck out her hand toward Jesse, and he grinned wide, dapping her up before giving her a quick squeeze on the shoulder—a silent go kill it—before letting her go.

Walking to the stage felt like moving underwater. Her shoes sank into the thick carpet of the stairs, the lights overhead making her squint. She took the golden statue into her hands, its weight heavier than she’d imagined, and stepped up to the microphone. 

The crowd shimmered in front of her—faces she knew, faces she didn’t—an indistinct blur under the stage lights. Her gaze found Dina in the audience, her black satin gown catching the light, her smile perfectly in place, but sincere.

And then, without warning, her mind slips.

You, sitting there instead, eyes starry and locked on her like the rest of the room didn’t exist. You, watching her in this moment you’d both once talked about like it was a far-off fantasy, whispered under the dim lights of a high school auditorium when you were just kids who loved the stage. She could hear your voice from that night as clear as if you’d just said it—“You could win an Emmy someday, Ells. I mean it!” You’d laughed then, half-teasing, half-dead serious, but you’d looked at her like it was already true.

The image hit so sharply her throat tightened. She didn’t know why it happened, why her brain would pull you into this moment, now, when it should’ve been about everything she’d built since you. But there you were, in her mind, where you didn’t belong anymore.

She swallows, lets the silence stretch for a beat too long, and begins.

“Holy sh—Wow… I’ve wanted this since I was fifteen years old. Since drama club after school, running lines in hallways with… friends who believed in me before I believed in myself. Since freshman year, when I stepped on stage for the first time and felt… like I’d found the one place in the world where I made sense.” 

“This... This is for every kid sitting in the back of the classroom right now, writing monologues in their notebooks instead of taking notes. For every person who’s ever been told they’re too much or not enough. For the people chasing something impossible because it feels like the only thing worth catching."

Her eyes glistened, and she let the tears come, just enough to blur the edges of the crowd.

"And for anyone who’s ever been told that who you are—your identity, your sexuality—should limit what you can do or who you can be. Don’t let them write your story for you. You are not defined by the boxes they try to put you in, or by the labels they think should hold you back. It’s terrifying. It’s exhausting. But it’s worth it. And I promise—no matter where you come from—it’s possible. If you love it enough, if you work until your bones ache and your voice cracks… you can stand here too.”

She breathed in slowly, letting the words settle. 

“To the Backstage team—thank you for trusting me with a role that took everything I had to give,” she says, her voice steadier than she felt. “Thank you to my dad, Joel—who’s probably watching me right now and crying into a beer. I love you, old man. And I'm sure mom is watching too.” A small aww moved through the crowd, but when she reached the next part, her cadence slowed.

“To Dina…” She hesitates, just for a beat, the name almost catching in her mouth like it didn’t want to come out. “…thank you.”

The words are soft, almost perfunctory. They don't carry the swelling affection the cameras expected, no grand declaration of love for the woman seated in the front row. Just a polite nod, careful and contained, like she was checking a box rather than opening a window. Dina’s smile doesn't fade, but her eyebrows furrow slightly.

"And last, thank you so much to the Academy. I will never forget this.'"

The orchestra swells, golden light flooding the stage as Ellie tightens her grip on the Emmy, the smile on her face wide like it never was seen before. 

But inside, her pulse was still rattling from the moment before—from the way her mind had betrayed her with that sudden, blinding flicker of your face instead of Dina’s.

She would’ve liked to thank you. To look out at that sea of cameras and strangers and say that you were the reason she’d ever stepped onto a stage. That without you, none of this—none of the scripts, none of the auditions, none of the standing here with an Emmy in her hand—would have happened. Because it was simply the truth.

But she knew that was never possible. Not anymore, not in this life you’d both chosen, where the truth between you was something fragile and dangerous, better left unsaid.

She steps offstage into a crush of stagehands and publicists, the applause still ringing in her ears, and she barely has a second to breathe before the night sweeps her up again.

It comes in waves: the noise of the crowd settling and then rising again, the shuffle of cards in the hands of the next presenters, Jesse’s low murmur beside her asking if she was ready for “round two.” And then the words: Backstage—Best Drama Series.

She didn’t even realize she was moving until she felt Jesse’s arm sling around her shoulders, guiding her toward the steps. 

“Three for three, huh?” he says under his breath, his grin boyish and wide, and it grounds her in a way nothing else that night had. 

She lets herself laugh, the Emmy warm in her hand, as the entire cast and crew pours onto the stage. The lights hit hard again, blinding, turning everyone into silhouettes against the glare. Speeches happen—some careful, some stumbling—and she claps for each one, looking out into the audience, searching for nothing in particular and finding Dina every time.

The afterparty was a carousel she couldn’t get off: champagne flutes pressed into her hands, strangers congratulating her like they’d grown up on the same street, and photo after photo under soft gold lights.

Dina stayed close, her hand sometimes brushing Ellie’s arm, her smile practiced and perfect for the cameras. But the warmth behind it was gone. It was a polite smile, the kind you wear when you’re counting down the minutes. Ellie noticed it in flashes—when someone else was talking, when the cameras turned away—but she let it slide.  

By the time they slipped away, the city had thinned to its late-night hum. Ellie unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel, her award resting in the backseat. Dina sank into the passenger seat without a word, smoothing the satin of her gown over her knees. The silence between them was different now—dense, as if waiting.

Ellie pulls out her phone and, on impulse, taps Joel’s number. The line rings twice before his voice comes on, warm and hoarse. “Congratulations, I’m so proud of you, kiddo. Your mom would be so proud too.” he says, and she can hear the pride as if it was something he was holding in his hands.

She smiles faintly, eyes softening. “Thanks, dad. It means a lot.”

“You earned it. Every bit of it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he says, and she could picture him exactly—seated at the kitchen table, wiping at his eyes.

“Yeah. I hear you,” she murmurs, and for a moment, the world outside the car fell away. She hangs up after some few minutes talking, tucks the phone into her pocket, and starts the engine.

The car rolled forward, the streetlights catching in the windshield. For a moment, she thought Dina was just tired—two years together meant knowing her tells, and usually silence meant exhaustion, not anger. But the tension in her jaw was sharp enough to see in the corner of Ellie’s eye.

“And to Dina, thank you. Really, Ellie?”

Dina’s voice cuts through the low hum of the engine, each word clipped and careful, like she’d been holding it in all night.

Ellie’s fingers tighten on the wheel. “...What did you expect me to say? I was running out of time up there.”

“No, you weren’t,” Dina snaps back, voice already climbing. “You had time, you just didn’t take it.”

Ellie shooks her head, forcing her eyes to the road. “Look, I don’t know what the damn issue is—”

“The damn issue,” Dina interrupts, the word sharp, “is that you didn’t even kiss me. Not once. Not even a quick kiss when you went up to get your award. And you went up there three times tonight!” Her voice keeps rising, the composure she’d kept all evening splintering. 

“I’ve been the one beside you for two years. I’m the one who held you when you came home shaking from that role, when you couldn’t sleep for weeks. And what do I get? Thank you. Two words. Flat. That’s all I get."

Ellie’s mouth opens—whether to defend herself or explain, Dina doesn’t know—but she cuts her off before the sound can form.

“And you were also looking at me in this really weird way, like you were seeing a ghost or something. What the actual fuck was that?”

Ellie stays silent for a beat too long, her hands tightening on the wheel. “...I don’t know what you mean,” she says finally, the words thin, evasive.

“I’m… sorry.” Her voice is low, her jaw working like the apology has to scrape its way out. She keeps her gaze pinned to the empty stretch of road ahead, but the word lingers in the air, fragile and incomplete—nowhere close to sincere.

In the back seat, the Emmy catches a passing streetlight and flashes gold, a kind of shine that only seemed to make the silence between them louder.

“You’re sorry, huh?” Dina says after a while, her tone flat, the bite in it sharper for how quiet it was. She turned her head to look out the window, the city lights sliding over her face. 

She shooks her head slowly, like she can't decide if she's more angry or disappointed, and the car feels smaller somehow—like the air had shifted and neither of them could take a full breath. 

"You’re unbelievable.”

𝐄rin sits at her kitchen counter, her manicured nails tapping a restless rhythm against the cool edge of the marble. The apartment is quiet in that way that makes every small sound feel too loud—the faint hum of the fridge, the occasional creak of a pipe somewhere in the walls.

She has Ellie’s laptop open in front of her, the familiar login and desktop greeting her like an old habit.

She’s been given permission to use it countless times before; it’s part of the job, after all. Her job. She’s the one who drafts the press releases, coordinates the scheduling, files award submissions, and answers every email Ellie doesn’t have the time—or the patience—to touch. She’s good at it. Too good, maybe. 

But lately, every keystroke has felt heavier, her hands hover longer over the keys, weighted by the sour pit in her stomach that’s been quietly rotting there since the night Ellie and Dina went public.

It’s not that Erin hadn’t seen Ellie with women before. She had. Plenty. But this was different, Dina wasn’t a fling or a quiet arrangement. Dina was official, her image sewn into Ellie’s brand now, stitched neatly into every red carpet photo and interview clip. And Erin hated it—hated the way Dina looked so seamless next to her, the way the public had eaten up their “perfect couple” narrative. 

She tells herself it’s professional disapproval. That Dina isn’t good for Ellie’s image, that she’s a distraction, a liability Ellie can’t afford when her career is sitting at the height of its momentum. That this is about protecting the brand, the trajectory, the carefully curated persona Erin has spent years polishing.

But deep down—too deep for her to admit out loud—it’s not professional at all.

It’s personal.

Her cursor drifts over Ellie’s inbox, the familiar churn of unanswered messages ticking in the back of her mind, but then her eyes catch on something else—the small, innocuous cloud icon glowing in the corner of the screen.

She freezes. She shouldn’t. She knows she shouldn’t. But jealousy makes her reckless, sharpens her impulses into something she can’t quite pull back from. Before she can think about consequences, before she can stop herself, she clicks.

The iCloud opens, spilling folders across the screen. The organization is sloppy—some labeled by year, some by month, some thrown into catch-all categories like stuff. She scrolls without any real idea of what she’s looking for, chasing an ugly itch under her skin, following the pull of a hunch she can’t name but can’t shake either.

Her cursor hovers over Videos, then over an unnamed folder buried near the bottom. She double-clicks.

The moment it opens, the air seems to change. Clips spill into view, all stamped with dates from six years ago.

Erin frowns, leaning closer, scanning the file names and times. Her confusion builds scrolling through the thumbnails.

And then she stops.

You.

You, the Hollywood starlet. America’s new obsession. On every red carpet, in every magazine spread, the face of luxury brands and box office hits. But not this version of you. Not the glossy, curated you.

This you looks different—younger, softer features, hair a different color, skin bare of makeup, dressed down in a way Erin’s never seen in public. You’re still achingly beautiful, but there’s something else. Something she can’t name.

For a split second she doubts herself—this can’t possibly be. Maybe it’s just someone who looks like you, a girl with the same smile, the same bone structure, the same impossible eyes. Someone who could pass for your twin in the right light. 

Her cursor hovers, pulse picking up, telling herself she’s about to confirm it’s nothing.

But then she double-clicks again.

And she could have never imagined what she saw.

A sex tape.

And that’s when it hits her—every single file in that folder, all those thumbnails she scrolled past, they weren’t just random videos. They were all sex tapes.

Erin’s stomach flips so hard she feels a rush of heat in her cheeks, her grip tightening on the edge of the counter as if the laptop might slip away from her. She can’t look away, even though every instinct tells her she should.

She then scrolls through the metadata. The files are from years ago, but the last opened dates tell a much different story. 

All of them were opened months ago—not years, months. Some had been accessed eight months back. Others, five. A handful, three.

Erin’s stomach gave a slow, deliberate twist, her pulse ticking in her ears as the implication settled in. Whatever these were, they weren’t relics Ellie had forgotten about. They were still living somewhere in her head, still important enough to return to. Recently.

And one—just one—had been opened only two weeks ago.

Her curiosity spikes hard enough to drown out the faint warning in her brain. She clicks on the 2 minutes and 15 seconds long video.

The nineteen-year-old versions of you and Ellie lay tangled in bed, bare skin bathed in the soft, golden spill of early morning light. The recording is grainy, low quality, the kind of thing that wavers slightly when the camera shifts on its makeshift perch—but there’s no mistaking what it’s capturing. The walls are bare, the sheets mismatched, and the corners of the frame catch flashes of a cramped, cheap apartment.

Erin stared, breath shallow, as she saw Ellie moving on top of you in missionary, her strapped hips rocking in a rhythm that was almost reverent, your eyes locked so intensely it felt violent to witness.

A soft whine slipped from your throat, followed by Ellie’s low, unsteady breathing. One of her hands gripped your thigh, pulling your leg over her shoulder, the motion fluid, practiced. Your nails scratched along her back, desperate and tender all at once.

Then Ellie shifted the angle and your head snapped back, loud moan breaking through the quiet. Your mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut, back arching like the pleasure had stunned you.

“Fuck, Ellie! Right there!”

Erin flinched, her stomach knotting as she heard your voice, completely different from any interview or commercial where she’d heard it.

“You’re the love of my life,” Ellie murmurs against your mouth, the audio muffled and tinny, but her voice so unmistakably hers that Erin’s breath snags in her throat. She then leans in, kissing you again with that same unshakable focus, and whispers, “Fuck, I love you. I love you so much.”

And you—without hesitation, without a flicker of doubt—say it back.

Erin watched, stunned, horrified, but entranced—because it wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t rushed or messy. It’s unbearably intimate, like the camera didn’t even exist.

And the recording ended there, the image frozen mid-motion.

Erin’s hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide like she can’t even afford to blink, as if the image might disappear if she looks away for even a second. Her pulse roars in her ears, a hot, dizzy rush that makes it hard to think.

It’s fucking insane.

She can’t believe what she’s looking at. Couldn’t have imagined this, not even in her most twisted, jealous daydreams where she let her mind wander into the ugliest corners. It’s beyond anything she’s ever allowed herself to picture. She didn’t even know you and Ellie had ever crossed paths, much less that you’d ever been close. 

Much less that you fucked.

Much less that you fucked like this.

She can’t figure out the when or the how—what project, what city, what strange overlap in your worlds would’ve put you in the same orbit.

But there you are. And not just in the same room, not just laughing at some industry party or leaning in for a PR photo. You’re together. You were together. She can see it in the way your hands clutch at Ellie’s back, in the way she touches you like she’s memorizing the lines of your body, if that “You’re the love of my life” wasn't obvious enough.

It’s too much—the way the camera catched every unguarded angle, the way Ellie’s voice broke when she said she loved you. And what undoes Erin most wasn't the sex itself, but the tenderness threaded through every second.

The unshakable truth that whatever was between you wasn’t a fling, wasn’t casual—it was real. And it was big.

She can’t reconcile the fact that Ellie has been holding onto this, still watching it after all these years. After Dina. After building a life and a career and a relationship she’s supposed to be devoted to.

The knowledge curdles in Erin’s stomach, hot and poisonous. Because now she knows something Dina doesn’t. Something the world doesn’t. 

And that kind of thing—once you have it—you can’t put back.

Her fingers move before her mind can catch up. Her hands are steady. Too steady.

She exports.

Opens a brand new twitter account.

Attaches the file.

And hits post.

It takes less than thirty seconds.

By the time she leans back, Erin can't believe what she just done.

But somewhere in Los Angeles, the clock has already started ticking.

࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OH MY GOD. WHAT A CHAPTER HUH. 15k words and these two little lesbians didn’t even speak to each other 😭 lord have mercy we are in for some serious yearning. sorry i’m a certified yapper and had to explain their entire tragic little backstories LMAOOOO but don’t worry… the drama is coming next chapter. and i mean DRAMA. love you all endlessly—thank you so, so much for reading 💌

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓— @talyaisvalslutsoldier @miajooz @andieprincessofpower @isabelckl @sunflowerwinds @coastalwilliams @thinkingabtellie @ssijht @pariiissssssss @liddy333 @sewithinsouls @beeisscaredofbees @d1catwhisperer @the-sick-habit @elliescoquettegirl @elliewilliams-wife @yueluv3rrrr @your-eternal-muse @ellies-real-wife @katherinesmirnova @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @thxtmarvelchick @natscloset @lesbiansreverywhere @satellitespinner @yunaversalluv @wwefan2002 @ilahrawr @harmonib @piastorys @azteriarizz @starincarnated @natssgf @ukissmyfaceinacrowdedroom @iadorefineshyt @claudiajacobs @urmomssideh0e @kingofeyeliner @womenlover0 @ferxanda @marscardigan @elliewilliamsloverrrrrrrr @bambi-luvs @maru0uu @mikellie @gold-dustwomxn @nramv @liztreez @eriiwaiii2 @les4elliewilliams @elliewilliamskisser2000 @azxteria @elliecoochieeater @doodl3b3ans @savagestarlight28 ࿐

[elslvrsworld]

this series is about to ruin me and im letting it

[lacedbykami]

RANDOM 42!MILES HCS pt.2 lol

! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ listens to Tyler, the creator (that boy was waiting for chromokopia to drop), Kendrick, future, gunna, metro boomin and frank ocean ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ almost cried while listening to like him; says he thinks the song is mid ts hurt his soul ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ stays up late at night trying to perfect a damn sketch that he did months ago ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ cussed someone out for almost stepping on his j’s dem shits like 2 years old but that boy don’t give a fuck ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ FaceTimes you randomly asking for your opinion on a sketch to then get side tracked into asking you about your day ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ starts mocking the way you talk when you catch an attitude with him, “don’t be mad I’m clocking tf out yo tea.” “Don’t get beat miles.” ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ will climb on top of you when your laying down and rest his whole body on your back just to annoy you; and when you ask him to get up so you can breathe he’ll just be like “ what’s the magic word princesa?” “Oh my fuck- please.” “Actually it was demure, also watch your language ma it isn’t very mindful of you.” “The way I’m boutta hurt you is gonna be far from mindful, now get off me your heavy ass is crushing my titties.”

[elslvrsworld]

love love love

[elslvrsworld]

am i being active or spam posting to get rid of guilt ?? the world will never knoww :p

[elslvrsworld]

Hiii!!

omg I love your f1 driver!ellie fic so much, that is a masterpiece

and can you please write about pervy neighbor ellie? need her so bad it’s crazy

love youuuuu

pervneighbor!ellie x fem!reader (pt. 1)

summary: you we're just introduced to your odd, yet cute neighbor ellie. little do you know shes harboring a sick secret.

a/n: holaaaa this is going to be a mini series probably like 3-4 parts depending on how im feeling but i feel like it could b longer. lmk how you like this though! i loveee reader in this and im sure you will too. and also, lemme js say the format of this fic is so odd on web, mobile it looks fine idk ?? js ignore it thank u bbs 🤍

cw: i wanna say 2k words ??, men dni, masturbation (e!receiving), ellie being a perv, lewd language, smoking, fingering ?? its a fantasy but (r!receiving), not much kinda short, sexy ass reader, lmk if i missed anything !!

you were in the mirror, trying to decide if the new bra you had bought fit nicely and lucky for you it did. you admired yourself in the mirror, and ellie admired you aswell, her eyebrows furrowed as she yearned for a girl who hardly even knew her name.

you were unaware— as always— but she was always looking. she had set up her desk right infront of her window, just so she’d have an excuse if you were to ever leave the blissful ignorance you were always so wrapped up in to notice her staring. it was almost terrifying how animalistic ellie got when it came to you, her lust for you was consuming her whole & she could nothing to stop it.

she had never really talked to you.. maybe in her head, but never in person. she admired from afar, appreciating your beauty, she knew you like the back of her hand. It was so perverse. she knew what time you got home, she knew your bra size, she knew your favorite sleeping position.

and you didn’t even know her name.

however, your parents did know joel, so it didn’t surprise you when they said the neighbors were coming over for dinner. you weren’t aware joel had a daughter your age. you were hardly aware you had neighbors in the first place.

and frankly, you didn’t care.

but here you were, about to get ready for dinner. after making sure your bra fit right, you slipped on an adorably appropriate dress before rushing downstairs to avoid the volume of your mom’s yells.

you met the bottom of the stairs to see your parents welcoming joel, “thanks for inviting us over, it’s been a long time since this one had a home cooked meal” he chuckled gruffly, his slight southern drawl was a bit amusing to you as he nudged ellie.

she was awkward, standing in a band t-shirt & rocking back and forth on her heels like she was jittery & couldn’t stand still. you giggled at the girl under your breath as your parents exchanged stupid words about “community” & “it takes a village” it nearly made you break out in hives.

“oh! have you met my daughter?” your dad piped in, nudging you to introduce yourself to the father & daughter standing in front of you. you tried not to roll your eyes, attempting to be pleasant and smile sweetly. ellies felt as if she was in a seventh heaven.

“nice to meet you” you mumbled politely, giving joel a polite nod and giving ellie a hand shake. her handshake was weak and her palms sweaty as she gave you nervous smile, she looked like a deer caught in headlights— odd, but cute.

“you girls can go upstairs for a few minutes” your mother said, placing a hand on ellies shoulder as encouragement to follow you, giving you a ‘do what I fucking say’ look before following it up with a warm smile.

“yeah.. i totally agreed to that” you mumbled under your breath, jogging up the stairs expecting ellie to follow after you. ellies brain had short circuited, she was expected to be alone— in your bedroom at that— with the girl she had been obsessing over for months? she felt as if she were dying. she wasn’t prepared!

it took her a few seconds, but she followed after you, seeing your room door already open and you lying on your stomach on your bed. abhorrent thoughts filled her mind, she wanted to climb over you, whisper in your ear the most sordid things while her slender fingers mercilessly delved into your tight pussy, your needy eyes mesmeric as she made you huff and puff as you reached your climax, begging—

“so.. what do you want to do?” you mumbled, sort of annoyed that your mom forced you to bring this random girl in your room— it helped that she was cute, but it was still annoying nonetheless.

“uh.. i don’t know” ellie murmured, standing awkwardly in front of your bed as her deviant thoughts had just been so rudely interrupted. you rolled your eyes, getting off your bed and taking ellies hand, sitting her down on the edge of your bed, walking to your dresser and opening the last drawer, having to bend over to do so— making ellies boy shorts dampen so embarrassingly— as you dug for something.

you stood up with a teensy tiny baggy full of grinded weed and some rolling paper, “y’want some?” you offered, walking back toward her and sitting down adjacent to her. she sighed, knowing the weed would calm her down and maybe she could actually talk to you.

“uh, yeah— I mean, yes please” she tripped over her words, making her slightly blush at how embarrassing that was, you just chuckled beginning to roll the blunts, wetting your finger with your tongue to wet the wrap, placing the weed in it and rolling up the blunt gently, your fingers working so eloquently that ellie had to stop herself from moaning.

“you have a light?” you blankly asked, holding your hand out. ellie frantically patted her pockets, pushing into her back pocket and pulling out a black lighter. you smiled mischievously, putting the blunt to your plump lips and lighting it, ellies eyes darkened, she could hardly control herself looking from her own window, but now you were next to her and all she could think about was making you twitch under her.

after you had took 2 long drags you passed it to her, letting her do the same as you fiddled with your braids, “how long have you lived next door?” you asked, still not high enough to be fully relaxed, but you weren’t as hostile.

she took a drag before answering, “uh— like 2, maybe 3 months? i don’t know, i don’t— pay attention to that stuff” she mumbled lowly, kind of awkwardly stuttering.

“hm… you’re kinda odd” you muttered, taking the blunt and taking a drag, “i fuck with it” you shrugged, looking at her with low eyes, no intention behind them— but ellie could make a fantasy out of nothing.

“really?” her eyes brightened, eagerness in her voice. you nodded, smiling at how excited she looked.

“i gotta use the bathroom, open the window f’me?” you requested leaving while leaving the room, her eyes lingered on you and the way your hips slightly swayed, before she walked to your window, shutting it and turning around, seeing your drawer open.

she could see a bra hanging from the drawer and looked at it, then the door, her eyes darting between the two. she closed the door, before quickly walking to the drawer, getting down on her knees and sifting through it, finding multiple panties, worn out and new bras, and she found a forest green pair— her favorite color. she looked around and felt her stomach drop, she knows its wrong. she knows its terribly wrong.

ellie just can’t help herself.

she quickly snatches the pair from the drawer and stuffed it in her back pocket, making it sure it was completely concealed. she scurried back to the edge of your bed, sitting down much more tense. she felt disgusting— like a pervert.

could you blame her though? you were the prettiest girl she had ever seen, every time her eyes had set on you her boyshorts automatically became damp with her arousal. she was completely and utterly infatuated with you.

you came back in the room and sat back down, the blunt still in your hand. you offered it to her silently, and she took it— the guilt on her face so apparent, but you hadn’t realized. you guys talked for another 2-3 hours about nothing important. she learned that you hated drawing, but loved art. she learned that you prefer cats over dogs, she even learned that you could not stand snickers. you enjoyed her company, and figured it’d be nice to have a friend that lived close.

“gimme your phone real quick?” you asked, more like demanded.

ellie took it from her back pocket and gave it to you without argument, she was still a bit tense—but you ignored it—and put your number in her phone. you put your name with a little bow and gave it back to her.

ellie was oblivious, and her eyes widened in excitement and partial fear when she saw what you did. now she could text you whenever she’d like, but what if it worsens her obsession? what if she becomes too obvious and you push her away? conflicting feelings were coursing through ellies brain as she stuttered out a, “b-but how will you know its me when i text you?” asking dumb questions.

you tilted your head at the dumb question, “just say your name..” you giggled to yourself, shaking your head at her stupidity. “so you got any other friends?” you ask, being a bit nosey.

“yeah.. dina and jesse— they’re losers but they’re the only ones who really talk to me” ellie chuckled to herself, a bit embarrassed that she only has 2 friends.

“why? i think you’re pretty cool” you mumble, furrowing your eyebrows. you understood, ellie was nerdy, a bit quiet and extremely awkward— but you thought she was adorable.

little did you know.

your moms faint voice rang through the room as she called you and ellie down. dinner was at the table and you sat next to your parents completely oblivious to what ellie had planned to do when she got home.

——

“mmph— fuck” sinful sounds escaped her lips as her rough fingers sunk in and out of her wet cunt, squeezing around them as she imagined they were your dainty ones. she had your panties in her unoccupied hand, pushing them against her nose deeply inhaling your scent, even licking them when she got close.

she bucked her hips toward her hand, chasing her high, fantasizing of you and all of the dirty things she’d do to you— all the dirty things you’d do to her. she had never cum that hard in her life, of course before she had the visual of you, maybe even a recording of you going about your daily shenanigans, but she never imagined she'd have your panties.

she sat in her bed, panting, staring at her ceiling, coming to terms with what she had just done. a shameful look spread across her face as she dried her fingers with your panties and stuffed them in her drawer.

out of sight out of mind, right?

she reached for her phone on her nightstand, seeing some messages from her group chat with jesse and dina. she opened her phone, and it opened to the last app she had opened, contacts. your contact was pulled up and the mental turmoil she went throught trying to gage whether she should text you.

she pressed message and typed out a quick, "hey." she pondered, wondering if that was too dry, what if it was too early for her to text? while she sat there silently overthinking, her finger twitched, pressing send. her eyes widened as she dropped her phone out of shock.

"fuck" she mumbled, rustling a hand through her hair. your response was almost immediate, "hey, whose this?" ellies stomach flipped as she reached from where she dropped her phone to type out a response, "it's ellie. sorry should've started with that, lol." her breathing became heavy, why was she so invested over some text messages?

it's not that serious. well, ignoring the fact that she had been unhealthily infatuated with you and minorly stalking you for a prolonged period of time. her phone pinged, "oh hey cutieeee" her pupils dilated as she felt herself get wet once again.

she's so fucked.

[elslvrsworld]

pillowprincess!ellie x fem!reader

lil ellie drabble while i work on the start of what i plan to be a seriess. hope u enjoy bbs 🤍

you and ellie were the perfect couple, you hardly ever fought, and to everyones eyes—including your friends—she told you what to do, and you followed. her arm was always around you, her protective demeanor scaring away anyone who’d try and approach you, she was always there. you were hanging out with dina & jesse at a party, but you were really just lingering in the corner with ellie, her arm around you as you leaned into her arms.

you both weren’t interested in partying, or anything of the sort, you both were just here to satisfy your friends who were off dancing & drinking.“y’wanna leave?” ellie mumbled in your ear, her breath sending shivers down your spine. you could basically hear her intentions through her words. you looked up at her and nodded, and she wasted little to no time, slipping her arm from around you to interlock your fingers, walking over to dina & jesse to yell goodbye over the loud music.

after a few you were home, on the couch with ellies heads in your lap, your fingers rustling through ellie's auburn hair, she' hoped you hadn't heard the small sounds she'd been making-- you had. she looked up at you with low eyes, mumbling your name through her chapped lips.

"yeah?" you looked down at her, your unoccupied hand tracing her cheekbone, her freckles under your fingers, as she sighed under your touch.

she didn't say anything, she attempted to ask you through her eyes, furrowing her eyebrows a bit, you could see the desperation laced through her expressions, you couldn't help but smile in amusement.

"are you.. gonna say something?" you teased knowing damn well, she had already told you what she wanted through her oh-so-obvious body language, you just loved torturing your girl.

"c'mon baby, you know what I mean" she whined with a raspy voice, pouting. you tried to stifle your giggles but you couldn't help it, "you want me to touch you?" you said, motioning for her to sit up and she complied, now facing you.

"please" she breathed out, her eye contact faltering with how flustered she was, her pale cheeks now red. your smile only grew, you positioned yourself to where you could lay her down, straddling her gently, wacthing how her eyes frantically searched your expressions wondering what you were about to do. you started gently kissing her neck, reveling in the pleasure you received when she gasped as your teeth sunk into her neck.

“y’like that?” you mumbled against her skin as she pathetically nodded her head, frantic yes’ slipping from her lips. although your main focus was pleasuring your girl, it took everything in you to ignore the pestering feeling in your lower stomach, your hips desiring friction against her strong thighs.

“baby— please?” she whined tired of your relentless teasing, she squeezed your hips to encourage you to do something, knowing she wouldn’t take initiative. “alright, alright” you giggled, moving from straddling her to lying on your stomach, your head placed between her thighs but not before giving her soft kiss, silencing her relentless whimpers.

you took off her jeans quickly, smoothing up her milky thighs, kissing the soft skin gently, occasionally biting her just to see the way she’d jerk. “stop t-teasing” she muttered, her voice yearning for your touch. you giggles at the thought that no one would know you had her under you, begging for your mouth from the way you appear in public. you placed a gentle kiss against the wet spot on her boy-shorts, watching how she shivered.

you hooked your fingers in the soft material, pulling it down and throwing it somewhere in the room, latching onto her clit, sucking hard to elicit a deep groan from her pretty lips.

——

“a-ah fuck!” els whined, laying on her back with her milky thighs open, your strap filling up her greedy pussy ao gorgeously, her slick coating it with every thrust. you leaned down, whispering praise in her, “y’taking it so well, baby” you mumbled, kissing her jawline.

“f-fuck s’too much” she groaned, and you swear you felt her clench around your cock— despite that fact that it was a piece of plastic. ellies hands reached to cup your tits, it was a way to make her feel in control although she knew you were dominating her so well.

your hand went to the back of her thigh, pushing up her leg to enter her at a slightly different angle, her eyebrows furrowed as she choked out, "m-my god" her back arched as she pulled you in for a kiss, trying to mask the embarrassing sounds falling from her chapped lips.

"shit, doing s'good els" you groaned against her lips, seeing her so vulnerable, her skin flushed, legs open while her pussy's being split by your cock. "c-can't mama, gunna cum" she whined, her hand pressing at your lower stomach, subconsciously pushing you away.

you let out an almost sadistic giggle, smacking her hand away and deciding to hold her hands above her head, "take it baby, y'can do it, cum f'me" you hissed in her ear as she moaned sweetly, her thighs beginning to tremble.

"shit!" she cried, as she came all over your cock, her eyes slightly rolling in the back of her head as you slowly fucked her through her orgasm. "such a good girl" you mumbled, your hand moving to squeeze her cheeks, placing a kiss on her kiss-swollen lips.

you pulled out, hearing her hiss from the loss of contact. you giggled as you settled between her thighs, kissing her shaking thighs before you lapped up her release, making her whimper from overstimulation as her hips slowly ground against your tongue

once you had sufficiently cleaned her up, you sat up to give her a soft kiss, allowing her to taste herself. she groaned in your mouth as her hands found your hips. "good job, baby" you mumbled against her lips. "thank you, mama" she said a bit sleepily, lazily kissing you back.

"i'm not done with you"

[elslvrsworld]

eater!ekko x blackafab!reader

summary: you and ekko try something new, together.

a/n: im backkkk.. did you miss me? so i kinda did disappear for a few months !no excuses! just haven't had any motivation, but arcane act 3 szn 2 js came out and my man ekko gave me an instant girl boner so i had to cook smth up before any of my ellie girls freak i will not stop writing for her, a new fic will be posted tmr to make up for my absence and trust when szn 2 of tlou is released i will be going feral. but anyway i hope you guys love this like i love youuu

cw: 1.5k words, porn w/ little to no plot, oral (r!recieving), vulgar language, very vanilla, kinda subby!ekko, blackafab!reader, inexperienced!ekko, just a buncha pussy eating tbh

ekko was, to put it gently... inexperienced. can you blame him? he hadn't much time to hone his sex skills or even a field to play in. when you first got together, he was hesitant to even indulge in an impromptu makeout session, genuinely terrified that you'd clock his lack of experience in a second

and when you finally made out, you didn't even realize.

he didn't have the balls to ask you if it was bad, but you could tell by his reluctancy. it was cute to you-- the boy you had seen fight so brutally, with such a quick hard attitude, and insane muscles at that, he just didn't seem like the type to be nervous with this stuff.

one day he was in the shop, just sitting down, sketching something while simultaneously fidgeting with a small gadget. you walked over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder while look at his sketch.

"whats that? new invention?" you murmured, not wanting to be too loud and abruptly ruin his creative thought. he looked up for a second, his eyes gleaming when he saw you before he want back to sketching.

"yeah, theres something missing but i don't know if i care enough to find it" he admitted, making you laugh. the sound was music to his ears. sometimes he'd tell joke after joke just to keep hearing the sound and to see the joyful smile on your face.

"m'sure you'll find it" you placed a soft kiss on his neck before turning to leave. you didn't want to distract him, and you figured you'd see him later. his hand made his way your wrist, gently pulling you back.

he didn't necessarily have a reason, he just liked your presence. you stood between his legs, hands settling on his cheeks. you could tell he was flustered, but wanted to fake nonchalant. your lower body was basically all up in his face, no matter how much he tried to make it look like he didn't wanna feel up on your thighs.

"you're really cool, y'know that?" you mumbled, bending down to kiss on his neck even more. you were kind of clingy, and ekko loved it. and not too much on your flirting skills, you were 19 in the middle of a war with little to no dating experience. more than ekko-- just not much.

ekko laughed, "really?" he said sarcastically, squeezing your side which only made you giggle against the nape of his neck. it was giggly flirting sessions like this that led to the both of you aggressively making out constantly. in just a few minutes your lower back was pressed against the desk as your lips intertwined with his.

he was so sensual, taking his time, slipping his tongue in just to get a better taste of you. you nipped at his bottom lip, your hands grasping his biceps to pull him impossibly closer as his hands gently rested on the backs of your thighs.

"someones gonna find us" you laughed against his lips, pulling away before you got too riled up. ekko could care less, his lips went to your jaw, making you hum in satisfaction.

"okay?" he muttered in response, "lets go then"

----

"fuck m'sorry" he said wide-eyed, concerned that he pushed you against the door too hard, you could care less, pulling him down once again for another heated kiss. again, his hands went to the backs of your thighs, picking you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

"you're a thigh guy, huh?" you giggled against his lips, finally realizing that his hands always gravitate to your thighs. he subconsciously squeezed them tighter as he mumbled, "i think so"

there was an opening for you to do something insanely bold.

"wanna be in-between 'em?" you said between a chaste kiss. you swear you heard his breath hitch. his eyebrows shot up for a second before he fixed his face, not wanting to seem scared.

"we've never-- yes obviously-- but we've never.." his voice trailed off.

"i know, so is that a yes?" you laughed at his shocked eyes. all he could do was furrow his brows and nod. you were in the bathroom which definitely wasn't the best place to be ate out but you couldn't resist ekkos puppy dog eyes, and honestly, who wouldn't want his head between their thighs?

ekko hiked you up on the bathroom sink, before getting on his knees, his rough hands smoothing up your thighs, his face evident that he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was about to have his face buried in his girlfriends pussy.

"you gotta take my pants off, you know that right?" you snorted, your hand caressing his cheek.

"oh shut up" he groaned, still obviously flustered making you laugh a bit harder. "c-can I?--"

"duh?" you laughed even harder, ekko's hands carefully unbuttoned your pants, as you lifted your hips to help him slide them off. now all that stood between you and your wetness was your cute pink panties.

ekko pressed kisses to your umber skin, obviously fighting the urge to suck and mark his territory. soft moans left your lips, the warmth of his lips against your skin was euphoric. your sounds pushed him over the edge, you felt his teeth sink into the thick flesh of your thigh and you gasped, feeling your panties get damper by the second.

he unlatched, sucking on the bite mark for a few seconds before placing another kiss on your thigh. you could hear him take a deep breath before his finger hooked in your panties, pulling it aside, and looking up at you with eyes full of adoration & nerves.

he leaned in and slid his tongue up between the lips, making you let out a shaky breath. this must've awakened something in him, because he went at it.

"oh fuck, ekko!"

his lips sealed around your clit sucking hard, sucking and nibbling until you were bucking at his face, chasing your orgasm as your hips ground against his tongue. he wouldn't let up, he was doing different things every 2 seconds and whenever you moaned a bit louder he'd know what to do.

"t-thought you never--shit--did this before?" you panted out, your hands pushing his face more into your pussy, and he fully embraced it. the obscene sounds of his borderline slurping, and sucking tied with your cries of pleasure "you taste s'good" he mumbled against your folds.

you could hear his small whimpers against your folds and you swear it made you gush, "god" you heard him breathe out before he went back in, his biceps wrapped around your thighs to bring you even closer "mmph!", seeing his muscles flex made you let out a sweet whine.

his tongue prodded at your tight hole, sinking in and out his rough finger seeking your bud and firmly pressing against it, rubbing in fast circles. "ekko, m'close!" you whimpered, your head leaning against the mirror behind you, but not before you caught his lustful, pussy drunk eyes.

his eyes were the final straw, your thighs were already trembling but now they were full-on shaking, "fuck, m'coming" you managed to squeak out. you came hard, you never thought he could make you cum this quick, especially because it was his first time. you muttered profanties as you came down from your high, but ekko wouldn't stop, he lapped at your folds, groaning against you. it was sick and depraved and you loved every second of it.

you slightly jolted, the overstimulation beginning to be too much for you to handle, "ekko, fuck s'too much" you whined, the heel of your palm pushing at his forehead. at this point, he was eating you out solely for his pleasure, the mere taste of you coupled with your sweet sounds was enough to get him off .

"m'sorry you just-- you're so warm" he said, licking his lips, resting his cheek against the fat of your thigh. your slick soaked your inner thighs and ekkos mouth and cheeks.

"you did so good, there is no way that was your first time" you panted out, readjusting your panties, sitting up and reaching for his cheek-- the one not pressed against your damp thigh.

"what can i say?" he smirked boyishly, making you flick his forehead. you could tell he wanted to stay between your thighs for the forsaken future, but he had to get up. He now stood between your thighs as you pulled him in for a slow kiss, your hands resting on his muslces.

you have an infatuation with his biceps.

"i wanna do that everyday, for the rest of my life" ekko mumbled against your lips, making you giggle. "you next?" he choked on nothing, making you bust out in laughter.

"but seriously though"

[elslvrsworld]

i know im a tlou fic writer (for the most part) but how wld we feel if i started writing for arcane...

specifically ekko because the lack of fics for this man is a travesty.

[elslvrsworld]

obsessed with nerd!ellie 😫😫

pt 2 is out now!!

[elslvrsworld]

Part 2 of nerd Ellie?🥹

its out now cutie!!

[elslvrsworld]

nerd!ellie x cheerleader!reader pt. 2

summary: you had a surprise for ellie, but she had an even bigger one for you.

a/n: hi cutiess!! i’ve been so inactive im so sorryy, this fic has been ‘done’ 15 times and i just kept changing things. i hope you guys like this one, and it does well i MIGHT even do a part 3 w/ angst but we’ll see!! side note: im starting a dt list & if you’d like to join to be tagged in my ellie posts or any other lmk!

cw: men dni, 3.03k words, vulgar language, porn w/ plot (i guess?), wlw sex, nipple sucking (r!receiving), penetration (r!receiving), riding (e!receiving), strap usage, subtop!ellie, reader is sexy as always, loser!ellie, black!reader, stereotypical cheerleader & loser dynamic. if i forgot anything lmk!

you and ellie had gotten ridiculously close after your ‘study session’ at your house. you sat together at lunch everyday but wednesday, when you had to sit with your team & even then, she craved to be in the vicinity of you. were you in a relationship? well you thought you were after your initial hook up, but after a few minutes of your fingers in her after a semi-successful study session she blurted out “be my girlfriend?” through pants and whines.

nobody knew. well dina & jesse knew, but otherwise everyone was oblivious to your relationship with her & you liked it that way. you’d hoped everyone would mind their business, and fail to notice how you both had started to hangout outside of study sessions. ellie wasn’t the school spirit type, before you she never came to any games, talked to anyone outside of jesse and dina, she even found it hard to stick around after classes instead of heading straight home.

after you, she’d occasionally come to a game, but not to see the players play— only to see you do those cute little cheers you showed her in your bedroom the week before. she had become more social, but it wasn’t a huge change, she had just began to exchange a few words with your close cheer friends. your favorite thing is when she would stick around the quad and ogle at you all sweaty in your lululemon biker shorts & a sports bra doing intricate routines. nobody would’ve guessed you were together, you were complete opposite & you 2 liked that.

you were talking to dina by your locker, pulling your short cheer skirt down every five seconds due to how much it kept riding up whenever you shifted your stance. ellie walked behind dina, scaring her and making you giggle in the process. her cheeks warmed at the sound of your laugh, usually she’d get all flustered but attempted to act cool in front of you.

“els, what’re you doing later?” you asked, looking in your locker mirror while applying lip gloss on. els couldn't help but stare at the exposed skin of your thigh, her fantasies practically blinding her to whats going on around her.

could you blame her? she was only a girl.

dina after realizing this, stifled a laugh, smacking ellies shoulder “nothing!” she replied pathetically quick after getting knocked out of her trance like state. after a second she realized how that made her sound, so she coughed and corrected herself, “uh i’m not sure, why?” while scratching her neck. dina found it so amusing how ellie got all embarrassed around you, and she couldn’t help but laugh at ellies terrible save, causing els to shove her.

“i gotta get to class love birds, i’ll see you later” dina said with a giggle, shoving ellie back before speed walking away, trying not to get hit once again.

"love birds?" ellie cringed to herself, scrunching her eyebrows making you laugh once again. ellie loved everything you did so intensely, and half the time you didn't even notice. sometimes she'd tell you jokes over & over again just to hear the specific laugh that made her love-sick.

“i was wondering.. if you maybe wanted to come over later?” you mumbled, tucking ellies auburn hair behind her ear, and seeing how quickly she melted into your touch. people had began to clear out the hallway, so you weren’t worried that anyone would see you. you had wanted to give her a fashion show of all the stuff you got out on your shopping spree with your cheer team.

ellie loved when you did things like that, it made her feel special that she was the first person to see your potential outfits. she loved being your go-to.

“yeah— wait will your parents be home?” her eyes gleamed with something unknown to you as she asked the question, you kind of assumed what she was insinuating but you weren’t entirely sure.

“nuh-uh, why?" you asked, seeing the glint in her only to be shut down by a mumbled 'nothing'. You could tell she was hiding something but you had to get to the library for your free period & she needed to get to class.

"okay.. I have a cheer team meeting after school so do you want to wait and walk with me or just meet me at my house?" you asked, shutting your locker and swinging your bookbag over your shoulder.

"i'll meet you there" she quipped, giving you a short kiss on the cheek before walking off. you thought it was odd, but didn't read too much into it. maybe she had an important test? later in the day you were in your living room, lying on your couch in a shirt you had stole from ellie and fuzzy pajama shorts waiting on her arrival.

your phone pinged & you were quick to check if it was ellie, sighing with relief when you realized it was her.

you rushed to the door, unlocking it to see your girlfriend scratching her neck looking down, a backpack hanging on a lone shoulder, her head popping up to see you with a small smile. you didn’t even exchange any words, you just grabbed her hand and pulled her up to your room. ellie made sure to close the door before you dragged her too far, giggling at your eagerness.

you sat her on the bed, standing in front of her, “wanna see the new outfits i got?” you piped, smiling excitedly at the thought of her reactions. she playfully pouted, "awe but I wanted to see you come?" she couldn't contain her silent giggles, as you shoved her mumbling "unfunny" while rolling your eyes at her adorable immaturity, "okay, okay show me your outfits" she murmured pulling you in-between her legs from the backs of your thighs, looking up at you with lovelorn eyes, making you slightly shiver.

you bent down to give her a soft kiss, but pulled away before she got to excited, stepping a few feet away to get the first outfit from the shopping bags you had yet to disassemble. you pulled out the first two pieces and laid it out beside ellie on the bed, "okay so this was the first outfit that I bought--" you began to ramble while undressing in front of ellie, planning to try them on for her. her cheeks immediately flushed seeing you in your bra, conflicted on whether she should say something of just enjoy what she was blessed with, "uh, you're getting dressed here?-- in front of me?" she slightly stuttered when you began to slip off your cheer skirt, leaving you in only your undergarments. ellie couldn't help but squeeze her thighs together at the sight, slightly putting her head down to be respectful.

"yeah? do you want me to stop?" you said with an amused tone, ellie had saw you bare in your most vulnerable form, you had been skin to skin and she could hardly bare to see you undress without her cheeks warming, "no, no! it's fine, i was just.." ellie decided to stop there, she wasn't sure was she still felt embarrassed around you, she thought it'd eventually subside a few days after you became official but it never did, little did she know, you loved that.

you slipped on the new outfit, a dark jean mini skirt & a low cut long sleeved white shirt, spinning around for her, "okay what do you rate this one?" you asked, looking at ellie who was still frazzled from watching you basically strip in front of her with no hesitation, "u-uh a 10?" she squeaked, hardly paying attention her gaze was dead set on your chest, as always.

a few outfits later and you had got to the last thing in the bag, and it was an adorable pink lacy bra, you squealed just looking at it. it was your favorite purchase by far, and you knew it'd be ellies favorite too.

“wheres— the rest?” she stuttered, tilting her head a bit in confusion, making you giggle at how adorable she was. “no, this is it!” you mumbled, taking off the previous outfit & walking up to ellie, turning around and pulling your braids over one shoulder, “mind helping?” you mumbled, looking back at her dumbfounded face. “y-yeah” she mumbled, her hands slightly trembling, going to unhook your bra clasp, watching at you slipped the straps down your shoulders letting it fall.

ellie tried so hard not to let out a whimper at the sight of your bare back, her hands gently resting on your hips. you slowly slipped on the bra and hooked it, turning around for ellie to see, “isn’t it so cute” her mouth was slight agape, looking at you with complete and utter admiration in her eyes. you looked down at your tits and cupped them, “good support too” you chuckled, knowing how much you were affecting her.

“ihavesomethingforyou” she rushed out, her low eyes looking up at you like you had just placed the stars in the sky.

“and that is?” you cupped her cheek, waiting for her to tell you. her gaze suddenly became nervous as she bent down, unzipping her bookbag that resided next to her feet and and reached to grab it, your eyes widened for a second. in her hand laid an 8-inch strap, veins and all. you were quiet for a second, completely stunned at the picture in front of you.

ellie, your ellie, the one who barely knew what the touch of a woman was before you, wanted to fuck you with— a strap? your stomach flipped, lustful fantasies filling your head. how would she use it on you? what position would she put you in? it almost made you giddy.

“you wanna use that— on me?” you asked her, a smile reaching your face, finding the entire situation immensely amusing.

“uh— yeah? is that okay? i mean it’d be my first time to— using it, i mean” she began to ramble while avoiding eye contact, you could see how anxious she was. you squeezed her chin, turning her face towards yours, “stop talking, please” you mumbled, locking your lips with hers, giving her an agonizingly slow kiss, a groan leaving her lips as she leaned in closer to taste more of you.

you straddled her, your hand finding her faintly freckled neck, squeezing a bit and making her gasp, “fuck— need you s’bad” she whined against your lips, her hand making its way to your ass squeezing the flesh so deliciously, making you moan in ellies mouth.

your hips subconsciously grinding against her own, only making her more needy for you. you pulled away from the kiss, nibbling down her neck, as she softly cried out, “w’na fuck you s’bad” she whined, her head tilting back to give you more access.

“y’wanna fuck me baby?” you teased, pulling away from her neck giving her another soft kiss, “yess,need you baby” she groaned in-between kisses. you pulled away, stroke her hair watching how she reveled in the feel your touch before your fingers tugged at it, pulling her head back soliciting a melodic moan from her lips. you bent down, whispering in her ear, “how?”

“w-what do you mean how?” she stuttered, her cheeks flushing for the millionth time, her lust filled eyes boring into yours. “when you have your little fantasies, about fucking me, how does it look?” your murmured in her ear, nipping at her earlobe, making her squeeze your hips harder, her breathing hard

“uh— sometimes you’re on top of me” she mumbled, embarrassment painting her features. “and?” your sultry voice giving her goosebumps, as she continued.

“and— and you’re riding me, and your— pulling my hair back, j-just like this” she whimpered, her breathing shaky, ellies boxers were soaked, and her mind was tainted with her fantasies, she had vividly thought out how she was supposed to do this— she was supposed to be dominating you, but with one look from you she couldn’t help but submit.

“y’want me to ride you els?” you said with a chuckle, loving how dirty your girl was becoming, she let out a longing whine, feverishly nodding, “pleaseee” she was becoming increasingly desperate and it was so adorable to see.

you giggled, getting off of her so she can slip on the harness, she didn’t break eye contact with you the entire time, she wasn’t thinking straight— how could she?—her infatuation toward you cancelling all rational thoughts. she sat back on the bed and had to resist pulling you onto her.

you slowly slipped off your panties, dropping them beside you before your hand rested on her shoulder as you straddled her, your hand sliding up to wrap your fingers in her hair. she leaned into your touch, “y-y’sure? i— i can use my fingers?” she mumbled, suddenly getting increasingly nervous, you could see her hands trembling on her waist.

“shh— jus’ shut up and let me ride you, okay?” you murmured in her ear, your hand reaching down to align the strap with your dripping hole, ellie didn’t know whether to look at you or look at her cock slowly intruding your walls. she decided on the second, her eyes widened as your pussy swallowed her as you sank down, you let out a sigh or relief while she whimpered at the sight, if she had any confidence before it disappeared.

“you— okay?” you choked out, so full of her but wanting to make sure she wouldn’t go into cardiac arrest. her cheeks were flushed, eyes stuck on how well you took her.

“I— fuck—“ she could only muster up those two words, you could feel her hands trembling on your waist as she eventually pulled her eyes up to look at you with pussy-drunk eyes, which only made you grin as you began to move your hips, slowly but it was enough for ellie to start cussing under her breath, stuffing her face in your neck, and inhaling deeply, her hands tightening on your waist slightly helping you to bounce her cock, making you cry out, your nails digging into her shoulder.

“shit els— jus’ like that” you murmured. she was fucking you so good and she didn’t even realize, her hips were subconsciously bucking up to meet yours, pulling the most sinful mewls from your two-toned lips. ellie looked up at you with those damn eyes and it only made you go faster, your thighs were burning, but who cares? ellies small whimpers from the strap harness rocking back and hitting her clit were driving you crazy.

“a—fuck—am i doin’ okay?” she shuddered out, as you nodded frantically, your nails must’ve been breaking skin at this point, ellie paid no mind, your sweaty body against hers was the only important thing, the slaps of your skin echoing around the room. “mhm— doin s’good f’me baby” you whined out, your head tilting back in pleasure.

ellie looked pathetic under you, her eyes following the up-down motion of your tits as you bounced. she was so entranced she forgot to ask before unclipping your bra, pulling your hands off her so she could slip it off you, throwing it somewhere in the room.

“hey! that’s my new fav— oh fuck!” you were interrupted by ellies unexpected hard thrust, your vision was practically going blurry as you fell apart on ellies cock, ellies small huffs and puffs in your ear pulling you back to reality, but she was ridiculously close to fucking the reality out of you.

“y’doing s’good mama— fuck” she mumbled, cut off by her own mewl— the harness hit her clit so deliciously. she latched on your tit, sucking it like she expected to be fed, her tongue swirling around your nipple making you choke out a loud moan, crying out her name as you felt that intense knot begin to unravel in your lower stomach.

“fuck— m’almost there baby” you whimpered, ellie was getting flustered, she wasn’t sure if she could continue, she was so overcome with pleasure she’d probably cry, she couldn’t go another second watching your puffy pussy engulf her strap and leave it coated in your slick.

“mama— can’t do it—“ she whined in your ear, her cute lips in an adorable pout as she shook her head in the nape of your neck.

“c’mon els— f’me okay?” you panted, as she whispered frantic ‘okays’ against your neck, she was cumming, she couldn’t help it, between the pressure on her clit and the sight of you— bouncing on her cock with your tits in her face? she was a saint for holding out that long.

you followed quickly after her, letting out a pathetic moan— slightly trembling, your thighs burning as you muttered faint profanities, kissing the corner of ellies mouth, before giving her a languid kiss, completely fucked out.

——

“wait so where’d you get it?” you mumbled, looking down at ellie as she laid between your legs, resting on your stomach. you could see her cheeks flush. you had just your underwear on as you stroked her auburn hair.

“a store” she said sheepishly, pressing soft kisses against your skin to distract you from questioning her again

“you went into a sex shop?” you giggled, raising your eyebrows at the fact. ellie got flustered at just the sheer mention of your body, you were surprised she successfully went into a sex shop without chickening out.

“yeah..” she mumbled, furrowing her eye brows at you, “why? you think i can’t? i’m not scared of sex stuff!” she said, her cheeks getting even redder with embarrassment.

“for sure!” you giggled sarcastically, earning a tiny pinch from her. a few seconds of silence passed before ellie sighed.

“i asked jesse to get it f’me” she mumbled, a pout on her lips knowing you were right. the thought of a sex shop scared the shit out of her. being surrounded by vibrators and dildos was not her idea of an good time.

“els!” you laughed hysterically, covering your mouth in shock.

God you fucking loved your nerd.

[elslvrsworld]

ur blog is soooooo cute 🧡🧡

thank u cutieee!!

[elslvrsworld]

pt 2. of nerd ellie & cheerleader reader coming soonnnnn

[elslvrsworld]

pt. 2 of nerd ellie x cheerleader reader is coming soonnnnn 😈😈 (okay but srsly by soon i mean in 3-5 weeks 😁)

[elslvrsworld]

i hit 1k wtf i love you guys SM nd i was inactive for a while ☹️ any requests submitted today will get written this week FORSURE and maybe even tday since u guys r so generous, eek i love u guys and im glad u love my fics 💐

[elslvrsworld]

bsf!ellie x fem!reader

summary: you spilled something on your shirt & when you went to go find a new one in ellie's drawer you found something else.

a/n: this was a REQ AND I FREAKING DELETED ITTTT so sorry anon if u recognize this pls pls pls msg me cs this is such a good req and i love u cutie!! this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away..

cw: men dni, 2.4k words, porn w/ little to no plot, wlw sex, pet names (mama, baby), vulgarity, profanity, dom!ellie, sub!reader, strap is reffered to as ellies cock, nipple sucking (r!receiving), black reader, choking, tiny bit of lore, degradation (just a teensy bit) + praise (also just a teensy bit), penetration (r!receiving), kinda loser ellie :p

“ah, fuck” you mumbled, looking down at the dribble of chocolate ice cream slowly making its way down your small white crop-top.

“oh, i gotchu” ellie murmured instinctively, her thumb reaching to try and wipe off the stain— she only made it worse. her cheeks tinted as she found herself slightly groping your chest.

you giggled, smacking her hands off and jokingly naming her a perv before you looked down to assess the damage.

ellie took this as an opportunity to stare at your chest, her eyes lingering on the supple curve of your tits poking out of the tight shirt. “you can.. borrow one of mine?” she mumbled, struggling to pull her eyes away from your assets.

“really? thank youuu” you dragged your words, giving ellie a sweet smile & a soft kiss on the cheek before popping up from the lived in couch and making your way up the stairs.

you and ellie were childhood friends, your dad being best friends with joel was the reason for you both always being in close proximity. Your dad’s were out on patrol, and you were left alone.

ellie always had a teensy crush on you.. but could you blame her? you were always so sweet, and kind— and you weren’t scared of some innocent physical affection.

she had never dared to try and hint to you that she had a crush— she opted on being a loyal friend, listening to you ramble about the number of boys you’ve mentally destroyed, wishing it was her you’d choose to inflict your wrath on.

you reached her room, pushing the door gently and standing in the doorway for a few seconds before your gaze landed on the drawer next to her bed. you walked towards it, your eyes flickering over the knick-knacks she had scattered across her drawer before opening the first one.

there was a few band tees, one or two nerdy t-shirts with her favorite comic book characters and under the mess of unfolded cloth there laid one of your favorites. You reached to get it from under all the shirts and felt something hard and considerably cold.

you furrowed your brows, wrapping your hand around it, letting your fingers trace the ridges in this "unknown" object.

this could not be what you think it is.

right?

you pulled the object from under the clothes and your pupils widened at the sight of a 8-inch strap, veins and all. your other hand came up to carefully run your fingers along the tip of it, thousands of thoughts running through your head.

where did she get this? who the fuck is she using it on? why has she hid this from you?

you were dumbfounded, swallowing heavily as you imagined ellie— your ellie, with someone else. her clammy palms grasping someone else’s waist, her adorable pink lips trailing down someone else’s neck, her lewd words being whispered in someone else’s ear.

you couldn’t take it.

“what’s in your hand?” ellie’s voice rasped out, lingering in your ears. you quickly turned around, swiftly hiding the strap before facing her.

“what do you mean?” you played dumb, raising an eyebrow while looking at her with an amorous glance, almost successfully coercing her to succumb to the power of your gaze, but she wasn’t that pathetic.

she began to walk towards you, prompting a low ‘fuck’ to slip from your lips. you weren’t oblivious to the way you impacted her, usually the look would cause her to stand down.

she harshly grasped your wrist, bringing towards the middle of you both. she let out an chagrined sigh, looking up at you with sheepish eyes— trying to find a way to explain.

“it’s not what you think..” she sputtered as if you had just caught her cheating on you.

“w-where’d you get this? matter of fact, who do you use this on?” you stammered with an accusing tone, your eyes flickered with turmoil.

“is that really impor—“ she mumbled reaching for the strap, you quickly pulled away before cutting her off.

“yes!” your brows knitted, trying to understand what she was hiding.

she sighed defeatedly, avoiding your piercing glare, “um— i don’t know… cat? uh… there’s been a few others but i don’t even really know ‘em” she babbled nervously, apparently not wanting to make you upset.

ellie had her own adventures, and her own buddies to take them with.

you fuckin’ hated that.

“cat? you’ve fucked cat?” you say, ignoring the fact that she’s had partners whose names she can’t even remember.

“yeah.. only a few times” she shrugged, meeting your eyes. she began to question why she was explaining herself.

“wait— i don’t need to explain myself to you, this is my business.” she piped, reaching for the strap but you shoved her, surprising her and yourself.

“what is so great about fuckin’ cat? she’s nobody— god, you really fucked her?” you were feeling thoroughly betrayed, but you had no idea why.

you held no animosity toward cat, you even thought she wad quite nice— but in your mind, ellie was yours & she’d stay that way.

ellie eyes widened at your frustration, before beginning to realize— you were jealous. she surveyed your expressions, she could tell you felt uneasy about the thought of her exploring someone else.

a half smile creeped onto her face, making you even more frustrated. before you could say anything she blurted, “you’re jealous”

a moment of silence passed between you two, before you found the gall to respond, “no— i’m not jealous!” your confrontational demeanor quickly faltered, the roles switched.

“yes.. you are” she mumbled, taking a step closer, making your breath hitch. you licked your lips nervously, not breaking eye contact.

“why would I be? no matter how many girls you mess with, you know you’d leave em’ all for me” you stated, leaning in a bit to mess with her— gain some of the power you had lost back.

“that’s not true” she whispered unsure.

she knew— full and well, that if you ever even hinted at reciprocating her feelings she’d drop everything just to wait at your hand and feet.

“really? prove it” you murmured, leaning in closer to place your soft lips against her chapped ones, giving her a tender kiss— one she couldn’t help but return.

she tried to resist, tried to stop herself from kissing you back but she couldn’t. the sensation in her stomach wouldn’t let her, her chest against yours was enough for her to fold, once you gave her a simple taste of your lips she was now forever yours.

your free hand came up to slip into her hair, tugging her auburn hair and causing her to whimper desperately against your lips. her knees went weak, as she hesitated to place her hands on your enticing waist.

you pulled away but ellies lips craved yours, chasing them hopelessly. you muttered through quick desperate kisses, “I bet— cat can’t— kiss like me.. huh?” you murmured against her lips, slowly pushing her toward bed while your lips moved in harmony, ellie making the sweetest mewls.

“m’no— nuh-uh” she panted, her brows knitted together while she savored your taste. you straddled her, ellies trembling fingers slipping into your back pockets, pushing your hips towards hers.

“need you, please” she babbled, as your lips traveled down her neck, eliciting pants and pathetic whines to slip from her lips.

“show me” you murmured in her ear, marking your path down her neck, her wide eyes looking at you with confusion.

“what?” she stammered, her hands holding firmly on to your hips, you could feel her clammy palms against your skin and it almost made you giggle.

“how you use it” referring to the strap that had been thrown to the corner of the bed. her grip on your hips tightened at your words as her eyes darkened, she took a second before flipping you both over, and her hand found its way to your neck.

“take it all off” she mumbled, you could hardly detect any nervousness in her voice, just lust.

you pulled off your chocolate stained crop top, reaching down in between you both to unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips up to slip them off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

“so fuckin’ beautiful, mama” she mumbled, kissing down your chest, her touch becoming rougher than expected. somehow, without you noticing, unclasped your bra.

she abruptly pulled it off of you, and before she could elicit a gasp from your lips she latched on to your nipple, closing her eyes and groaning around your chest.

she wasn’t doing this for your pleasure—no— she was doing it for herself, she got off on this, seeing you under her, feeling you in her mouth.

she sucked hard, making you cry out, slip your delicate fingers into her short hair, pulling roughly causing her eyebrows to knit as she groaned against you.

“fuck— keep doing that, baby” she mumbled, latching off to give the same attention to your other boob. Her tongue swirling around your now aroused perky nipple, while her hand gently kneaded your other tit, a knot formed in your stomach-- she was too good at this. wetness pooled in your panties.

"y'so needy-- be patient" her pink links mumbled against your chest, leaving wet hot kisses down your soft skin, your skin glistening so perfectly with her saliva.

You tugged her hair with desperation, "els, need you please" you whimpered, her eyes glistened, she had been waiting for this moment for years-- dreaming, fantasizing about pleasuring you. "--and take off all these clothes" you groaned, tugging at the hem of her shirt, your brain foggy with images of her shirtless, her faint abs to firm muscles on display-- all for you.

she sat up, pulling her shirt over her head, throwing it somewhere in the room, your hands instinctively flying to her abdomen tracing her muscles with your finger tips, murmuring, "so fuckin' hot" under your breath.

"what was that?" she teased, while she leaned back down, meeting your lips gently, giggles passed between you two as your hand held her hips, slightly touching her v-line.

"y'gonna fuck me or not?" you mumbled against her lips, nipping at her bottom one while one of your hands departed from her hips playing with the cold metal button at the front of her jeans. "mhm, m'gonna fuck you, mama' she muttered between kisses as she unbuttoned her jeans, slipping them off before taking the strap and putting it on over her boxers, your eyes locked on her movements.

ellie wasn't gentle in any of the fantasies you involuntarily (not so much) had of her, she'd devour you, ravish you, whatever it took to destroy you and build you back up. You'd imagined how good she'd fuck you, making you see stars, go limp under her touch, the dirty words she'd murmur in your ears that would make your cheeks go warm.

ellie's hands traced the lace waist-band of your panties before traveling under your thighs propping them up a bit, pinching at the plump flesh, watching your dark skin go a little red, causing you to whine and lift your hips a little bit, needing her touch.

her thumb rubbed the little wet-spot on your panties, "awe, you soaked for me?" she cooed, as you gasped, the feel of her calloused finger pressing against your covered folds. "elssss, cmon" you groaned, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration.

"alright, alright" she giggled, hooking her fingers in your adorable panties, and pulling them down your thighs revealing your soaked pussy, your slick almost dripping onto the bed. you could feel the tip of ellie's cock prodding at your hole, waiting to intrude and your pussy was eager to let it.

"keep your fuckin' legs open" the rasp in her voice making you impossibly wet, she pushed in, your pussy swallowing her cock so deliciously-- her eyes were locked on how well you took her, groaning at the lewd sight. you gasped, knitting your eyebrows while your nails digged crescents into her arm, "shit, look how she's taking me" she panted in your ear, her filthy words causing you to tighten around her cock and just the sight of your gorgeous cunt squeezing around her gave her enough pleasure.

"fuuuck, els!" you whined, as she stuffed your puffy pussy, bucking her hips causing you to squeeze her arms even harder, "ah-- fuck, you hear her? fuckin' screaming for me" ellie boasted, pumping into you at a relentless pace, her words made you lose focus, your brain fogging up-- you couldn't even answer-- the only think your brain could process was your high pitched moans filling the rooms, along with the squelching from ellies cock pounding in and out of your eager cunt.

Ellie bent down a little more, her face right next to yours biting your shoulder occasionally, "being s'good for me, huh?" she grunted in your ear, "can't-- take it!" you cried out, begging her with glossy eyes, whining with every pound, "shut up-- fuckin' take it" she groaned, putting her hand under your thigh and hiking your knee over her shoulder, pistoning into your used hole, your thighs glistening with slick, the new position made you completely non-verbal, throwing your head back with a long whine, your thighs littered with light bruises, her hand around your neck as she stuffed your walls. you could feel yourself almost drooling, it was entirely too much.

"you think you're so fuckin' smart-- have control over me? huh?" she tutted, getting faster, deeper, opening your legs as she stroked deeper, abusing your cunt, "m'gonna fuck you so hard-- leave you numb-- fucking speak" she snarled, her grip on your throat a little tighter as you almost squeaked, "pleaase, 's too much!" you cried, your thighs beginning to shake, and it didn't even phase her, instead she got faster, your eyes rolled in the back of your head, you couldn't even function.

your lips were wide open, her hands restricting your airways, leaving you lightheaded, making you so much more sensitive, intoxicated by ellies cock, the knot in your stomach unfurled leaving you trembling around her cock.

her pace was constant, the strap hitting her pretty clit perfectly, the sight of you trembling, shaking, the white ring around her cock tied along with the pressure against her clit sent her over the edge.

there you were, your sweaty bodies lying against each other as you panted in each others ears.

now you know how she uses it

[elslvrsworld]

all my stuff is floppingggg 😪

[elslvrsworld]

turning 18 next week 😜