content warning: it’s a little suggestive towards the end but nothing graphic happens, mentions of reader wearing a skirt and having twirl-able hair, mentions of Ellie being a meanie but no actual dialogue, written with a younger sister!reader in mind
AN: First time writing in a style like this, hope you guys enjoy it! All criticism appreciated.
BBF!Ellie who’s been friends with your brother since middle school. What started as a biology project snowballed into a friendship for life… at least for them.
BBF!Ellie who wasn’t really fond of you for first few years. To her, you were just the stereotypical, annoying sibling who snitches and ruins all the plans. Whenever you asked if you could tag along? God, her blood boiled.
BBF!Ellie who always joined in on the sibling teasing that happened between you and your brother, only her remarks were a lot harsher- borderline cruel. Your brother never paid any mind to it, though, too stupid to realize that her words weren’t exactly playful.
BBF!Ellie who didn’t even notice when her opinion about you changed.
ೃ⁀➷ It started with the way you dressed. What used to be cringing at your striped sweater, turned into intently scoping out every little detail. The band t-shirt you wore- did you actually listen to them or did you just think it was a cute top? Was that pretty skirt thrifted or did you dig it out from your mom’s closet? And not to mention the way her eyes lingered on the slope of your neck and shoulders whenever you wore a tank top.
ೃ⁀➷ Suddenly, the sarcastic remarks you made towards your brother were hilarious. Like, genuinely knee-slapping kind of funny. She noticed every single time you rolled your eyes or made a face when you thought no one was looking… but she was.
ೃ⁀➷ The worst part? She wanted you to hang out with them, with her, but you didn’t. At least not often. So she quickly learned to appreciate every time you did, even if it was something small like watching a movie together. Her eyes would linger on you in the dark living room, snapping back to the TV as soon as she noticed your attention shifting. She wouldn’t be able to focus on the movie, her thoughts running wild with questions;
Were you enjoying the movie?
Would you rather be out with your girlfriends, instead of sitting here with her?
Were you twirling your hair on purpose, just to spite her?
Was that the same reason why you wore that low-cut top?
Did you notice her in the same way she noticed you?
BBF!Ellie whose snide comments and irritation turned into barely concealed compliments and bedroom eyes. She was surprised that your brother hadn’t caught on, she was being pretty straightforward- at least to a woman’s eye.
BBF!Ellie who started finding excuses to be in your room, whether you were present or not.
ೃ⁀➷ When you were there, she would walk in uninvited. She’d ask about your mutual friend, if you wanted something from the store, about that new CD you bought and left on the kitchen counter. Anything that would keep the conversation going.
ೃ⁀➷ When you weren’t there, though, she was a woman on a mission. She’d purposefully leave her charger at home, knowing that your brother didn’t have any spares and would tell her to grab one from your room. She’d ask for a hair tie, another blanket, the pack of cigarettes she knew you kept hidden in that old shoebox under your bed. Sometimes she would even make up shit, just to have a few minutes to sit there, take everything in and try to remember as much as she could, just so she could subtly mention a movie she saw on a poster the next day. Anything to hear you talk… even if her tactics weren’t the most ethical.
BBF!Ellie who, even though she would never admit it, she liked the way it all felt. She liked the dancing around, the looks you shared behind your brother’s back, the messages you exchanged at night when the only thing between you was the bedroom wall. She liked how forbidden it seemed.
BBF!Ellie whose downfall was quicker than expected.
ೃ⁀➷ It all happened on a Friday evening. Your parents were out and your brother had to go and drop something off for them.
She took the opportunity, approaching it as she always did. She started off with small talk; asking about your day, if you had any plans for tomorrow, complaining about your brother taking too long.
Then came the teasing about your room. She touched every trinket, commented on every photo and poster, before inevitably ending up sitting on your bed, poking fun at the stuffed animals you owned.
It wasn’t much from there. All it took was one joke too far, her eyes lingering on you for a second too long before her lips were on yours, her heart pounding in her chest.
Her hands roamed over your body, unable to find a spot that would satiate her need to touch you. Her fingers were freezing, yet they still managed to make hell seem cold. She caressed every inch of skin she could, squeezing your waist, pulling your thighs around her hips and greedily pawing at your chest.
She could only focus on the quiet sounds that were leaving your lips, her pulse thudding in her ears so hard everything else seemed inaudible… except one other thing;
Your bedroom door slamming against the wall, followed by your brother’s cursing.
BBF!Ellie who definitely shouldn’t have fallen for her best friend’s sister.
streamer!ellie who messages her sweet girlfriend(you) mid stream to “pretty please make me some food?” because she was getting hungry and also nowhere near ending her stream. so, the amazing girlfriend you were you, you made her some food—the best smelling alfredo pasta placed neatly into a ceramic bowl.
you even go out of your way to bring it to her. walking into the room you are greeted with her streaming set up, noticing the chat at the top right of her screen, and her face reflecting in the camera; projecting it onto the monitor.
you place the bowl of pasta before her and are about to walk away as to not interrupt her any further. but ellie wraps her arm around your lower waist, gripping onto your hip opposite of her. “thank you.” ellie says stretching out the ‘u’ slightly.
you smile, grateful for her appreciation. you place a kiss to the top of her head, and very quietly say: “let me know if there’s anything else you need.” before walking out the room.
and ellie just sat there with a dumbfounded expression and a red face. and her stupidly cute smile. her chat making teasing comments about how easy she was.
hii i loved the goldenretriever!ellie x bratty!mean reader fic please do more!! ☺️☺️
"you should’ve known better"
𔓐𑇓 ݁ ˖ synopsis: ellie’s too soft. you’re not.
Ი𐑼 ݁ ˖ wordcount: 1.2k
𐙚 ꒷ ˖ pairing: goldenretriever!ellie x mean!r
۪ᩍ ݁ ˖ tags: fluff, modern au, established relationship, mean!r, soft!ellie
jesse’s apartment was packed — too many people squeezed into a space that always felt one couch too small.
music thumped softly from a speaker in the corner, a messy mix of indie rock and whatever playlist jesse insisted was elite. (it wasn't)
empty bottles lined the kitchen counter, laughter spilling from every room, bodies brushing past each other with careless familiarity. it was loud, warm, and crowded in that way parties always were.
but ellie knew you were upset with her. she knew something was wrong the second you stopped touching her.
normally, you stayed glued to her side without even thinking about it — fingers laced together under the table, your knee pressed against hers like a quiet reminder, or your hand hooked lazily in her belt loop, thumb resting warm and possessive against her thigh. you were always there. always touching. always grounding her.
tonight, nothing.
your phone glowed in your hands, the light reflecting faintly in your eyes as you scrolled like it held the most fascinating thing in the room. your posture was closed off, shoulders slightly turned away from her, attention deliberately elsewhere.
she glanced at you, just for a second, then back at the girl standing far too close for comfort. the girl leaned against the kitchen counter like she belonged there, like she hadn’t just inserted herself into ellie’s space without asking.
"so..ellie. right?" the girl asked, smiling a little too wide.
"mmhm." ellie mumbles, adjusting in her seat as she takes a sip.
“god, i love your look,” she said. “i’ve seen you around campus. you always have a guitar.”
“uh. thanks.”
“oh my gosh,” the girl said suddenly, eyes lighting up. “your tattoo’s really cool.”
she leaned in even closer, close enough that ellie could smell her perfume, and brushed her fingers along ellie’s forearm like it was nothing. like it was allowed.
ellie stiffened.
that familiar, uncomfortable heat crawled up the back of her neck, spreading into her ears. she hated this part—the part where attention turned invasive, where she didn’t know how to shut it down without being rude, where she worried more about everyone else’s comfort than her own.
she glanced back at you but you didn’t look up. your thumb scrolled. slow. deliberate.
shit.
ellie forced a polite grin, shoving her hands into her pockets and setting her drink down on the table. “thanks. appreciate it.”
the girl laughed softly, clearly encouraged. “i was thinking, you should play something sometime. i’d love to hear you.”
ellie swallowed. “yeah, maybe.”
either completely oblivious or just that desperate, the girl lingered, talking ellie’s ear off and layering her with compliments like they meant nothing. “i love your haircut too. i wish i could pull off a cut like that. you look way too good.”
ellie chuckled nervously, eyes flicking back to you again. she could feel it — the tension rolling off you, thick and quiet. you were a ticking time bomb, and she was standing way too close to the fuse.
no matter how many times ellie gave short answers or subtly leaned away, the girl kept persisting.
you finally had enough.
you let out a quiet scoff. not loud. not obvious.
but ellie heard it. she shifted, suddenly restless. “i’m gonna— uh— get another drink.”
she stood quickly, instinctively placing a hand on your back as she passed, a silent apology, before excusing herself. she brushed past you, but you didn’t move from your seat. instead, your eyes followed her, expression unreadable. bored. closed off.
in the kitchen, ellie ran a hand over her face, letting out a muffled groan. she leaned forward against the counter for a second, trying to steady herself, trying to figure out how the hell she’d managed to mess this up.
then she heard it.
the soft, familiar clack of your heels against the floor.
before she could turn around, she felt you there — close enough that your presence changed the air. ellie turned quickly and instinct took over. she leaned down, burying her face into your neck, breathing you in like she needed it to survive.
her hands found your lower back, your waist, pulling you in without hesitation.
“hey,” she murmured, voice low and tired. “i’m sorry.”
you stiffened at first, just slightly, but you didn’t push her away. your hands hovered at her sides, unsure.
“you flirting now?” you asked, voice low, casual in a way that wasn’t casual at all.
ellie sighed against your skin. “it wasn’t anything. i swear.”
“really,” you said, raising a brow. “didn’t look like nothing.”
“she was just talking to me.”
“yeah. and you were smiling.”
ellie frowned. “i smile when people talk to me.”
“not like that.”
she pulled back just enough to look at you, brows knit together. “i didn’t want her talking to me. i didn’t want her touching me. i just… didn’t know how to make her stop without making it weird.”
that made your expression falter, ellie never put up a fight when it came to you. she knew she stood no chance, and it's not like she ever wanted to fight with you.
ellie frowned, hurt flashing across her face. “i was just being polite.”
“yeah,” you said coldly. “you’re great at that.”
ellie said quickly. “i hate that i made you feel like that.”
your eyes searched her face, like you were trying to decide whether to stay mad or give in. you exhaled sharply. “she was all over you.”
“she was standing there.”
“she was flirting.” you scoffed, looking away.
ellie stepped closer. “and i wasn’t flirting back.”
you finally looked at her then. eyes sharp. hurt sitting right under the surface.
you didn’t pull away — but you didn’t soften either. “you don’t get it.”
“then help me,” ellie whispered. “please.”
“you didn’t shut it down either.”
ellie softened immediately. “baby…” she sighed. “when you stopped touching me,” ellie continued softly, “i knew i fucked up.”
she reached for your hand. you hesitated — just a second — before letting her take it.
“i didn’t even think about it,” ellie said quietly. “i wasn’t interested. i only care about you.”
“then why didn’t you say something?” you asked.
"i wasn't trying to be rude, but i get what you mean baby. i was out of line. i'm sorry honey." ellie said, kissing your cheek, her eyes big and soft, like she was scared of you being mad at her.
“i don’t like people looking at you like that,” you muttered.
ellie smiled, soft and warm. “like what?”
“like they want you.”
ellie leaned in, forehead resting against your shoulder, her voice was soft, low. “they can look all they want.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” she whispered. “i go home with you.”
your fingers curled into her shirt. “i hate you."
ellie smiled wider. “i know you do. i love you too.”
you huffed, annoyed at yourself, then finally leaned into her. ellie wrapped her arms around you immediately, holding you close like she’d been waiting for it.
“jealous looks good on you,” she murmured.
you pinched her side, nudging her away. “don’t push it ellie.”
she laughed quietly, kissing your temple. “c’mon. let’s go sit somewhere else.”
you nodded, fixing your hair. “away from her.”
ellie grinned like a dog given treats. “anything you want, babygirl.”
and just like that, your hand found its place back on hers. right where it belonged.
summary: reader’s coach has warned her that she’s one more failed test away from expulsion, so now she’s found herself in the library, mid gloss swatch, watching the most beautiful girl call herself her tutor
a/n: based off my headcanon list that i decided to expand on for writing practice! you don’t really need to read that to read this, but you totally can, lol!!
warnings: writing practice, hyper-femme reader, reader being karen smith levels of aloof lol
Monday through Friday, Ellie finds herself rushing from the physics wing to the tutoring room with barely any time to breathe. Her backpack was weighing her down with a series of textbooks and binders, and it didn’t help that her hands were carrying the same.
Her Converse clad feet thumped through the halls as she muttered rushed apologies and “excuse me”’s to students hardly escaping her path. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped and eaten shit by now, but she’s had a pretty good grapple on maneuvering with a shit load of contents in her hand.
With the tutoring room in sight, she slowed her quickened steps to a slight jog, already dreading the next 30 minutes. This student was given to her by the dean of all people, someone who was seemingly on the verge of expulsion, which seemed like a desperate cry for help.
The auburn haired girl knew the only breed of student who could get the dean to grovel for their tuition money was someone who was likely an athlete, and that alone made her want to roll her eyes. Expecting another beefed up jock to sleepily text their way through the session, letting Ellie’s hard work of notes and studying to help them go down the drain as they brushed her off and never returned while sending her a measly $15 for the session.
Using her back, she pushed open the tutoring door to see someone sitting in the seat that allowed them to see her walk in.
But she wasn’t greeted with a jersey number, or athletic wear, no. She was stunned in the doorway to see you dressed in the tightest fitting tank top dawned in loud neon colors and swirls, a jean skirt so small she was sure it could pass as a belt, and the most dramatic pair of strapped sandals she’s sure she’s ever laid her eyes on.
Speaking of eyes, yours blinked up from the compact mirror cradled in your manicured hand as you slowly covered your lips in a sheen layer of lipgloss. Your mascara clad lashes fluttered a little as you looked her up and down, a look Ellie could only describe as intrigue reflecting in your attentive pupils.
You smacked your lips a few times before you folded your mirror away and shoved it into your purse. “Oh, you must be the tutor!” you smiled widely, so much so, Ellie was curious to know if you were being sarcastic.
“Uh–yeah, actually. I’m, um, I’m Ellie,” she shook her head to rid herself of the embarrassment, likely making a red color showing on her cheeks at her stammered introduction. She readjusted the books and binders in her arms as she moved away from the door to let it shut softly behind her, leaving the two of you alone.
You gave her your name and didn’t shy away for a second in checking her out for a second time. Her thick rimmed glasses were the first thing you noticed, the gloss on your lips catching your reflection, along with the dainty necklace of your name’s initial stared back at you.
The freckles on her face mirrored stars, and her rusty colored hair was tied poorly into a low bun at the back of her head. She wore a plain, grey hoodie, and the tightest pair of skinny jeans you’d seen as of late.
You’d have to ask her where she got them.
While you ogled her appearance with no regard for Ellie’s inner turmoil, she distracted herself by laying all of her supplies out. With only 30 minutes, she knew you weren’t going to get through even a quarter of the material she was told you needed help with. She almost felt flustered at how badly she’d hoped you wouldn’t flake like the others… to be sure you acquired all the necessary material of course! Wouldn’t want one of her tutored pupils to be expelled now, would she?
“No judgement, of course,” she started as she leaned back in her seat and glanced over at you, “but, they said you’re failing three of your classes?” Ellie asked cautiously, almost stressed at the idea on your behalf.
Embarrassment didn’t even seem to pass over you as you let out a dramatic groan and fell into your hands. “Ugh! I know! It totally sucks!” you all but whined while looking at the stack of textbooks Ellie had laid out before you. “I thought the scholarship meant I didn’t have to focus on school so much,” you added to your complaints, pouting your shiny lips.
As badly as Ellie wanted to point out that it meant the complete opposite, she decided to save that fact for another day and instead give you a ray of hope. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, most people I tutor usually make a pretty decent bounce back,” she reassured you with a slight smugness to her tone.
She also made sure not to mention that it applied to the three people that actually made an effort to return to her after the initial session.
Your eyes widened as your smile quickly returned at the news, already feeling better without putting in any of the work. “You’re like my guardian angel!” you cooed, your head falling onto Ellie’s shoulder, forcing her to stiffen in shock as her nose filled with your vanilla scented perfume.
She let out a nervous laugh, hoping you couldn’t hear her beating out of her chest with how close your head was. Attempting to avoid hitting you, she angled her arms weirdly as she pulled open her laptop to show a PDF of an astronomy textbook she still had from her freshman year.
“You take astronomy, right?” Ellie asked, hoping you wouldn’t notice how surprised she sounded. It was a fairly low level and was likely taken as a science credit for whatever you were studying.
You sat up at the cursed topic, your face frowning instantly. “I thought we were gonna be talking about planets and shit, but it’s a bunch of math,” you rolled your eyes in annoyance, resting your head in your hands as Ellie scrolled to the section she planned to touch on for your guys' lesson.
“Yeah, people tend to forget the physics part of astrophysics,” Ellie chuckled softly as you fell into a state of disinterest.
She was sure this was the part where you mentally check out, so she was prepared to subtly change the course of the session. Most people would feign interest for a good 5 minutes until it was obvious she was speaking to herself, so she often just made it a habit to teach the unimportant so it felt like she was still doing her job.
Astronomy was actually her strong suit, though, and her main interest! She was ready to revisit topics she had forgotten slightly, or even remind herself of her favorites, but it seemed you had other ideas.
“What’s your zodiac sign?”
You had asked with such innocent curiosity that she found herself answering before she knew it.
“Taurus… why?” the question came out unsure, like she herself didn’t truly know. Which wasn’t completely random. She liked the stars, sure, but studying their spiritual meaning didn’t move her nearly as much as the science behind them.
“Won’t I need to know? For the material?” you stated like it was a fact; like Ellie, and her abundance of open tabs and color-coded notes was the one who was unprepared.
“Uh, no, you won’t need to know astrology for astronomy,” she answered sarcastically as she clacked away at her laptop–not even meaning to be mean, but because she was sure you were being sarcastic as well.
Your lack of a comeback was what proved her wrong. She glanced at you from the side of her glasses as you seemed to ponder her response. Your nail had tapped against your lip for a bit as you went off into a bit of a daze only to land on, “Same difference!”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed at your obliviousness as her hands stalled over the keyboard of her computer.
What was your deal?
With a shake of her head, and a look of suspicious concern for your wellbeing, she finished the rest of the 20 minutes the two of you had together. Configurations, heliocentric explanations, and theories swarmed around your overstimulated mind, and Ellie answered every question you tossed out for her to break it down.
And, man, did she have to break it down.
By the time 5:30 rolled around, you felt like you could rival Einstein! And you expressed your gratitude the only way you knew how.
“Oh, thank you so much, Els! You’re the best!” you squealed as your arms threw themselves around her shoulders as you bounced where you both stood.
Ellie’s eyes widened as a nervous smile took over her. She awkwardly patted your back, not wanting to take it too far in a setting she’s always told herself was merely professional.
“It’s no big deal, really,” she chuckled softly as you pulled away, the various pieces of jewelry on your body glittering under the setting sun that peeked through the blinds of the room.
“It is a big deal! You’re, like, totally gonna save my ass,” you insisted as you pulled out your phone who’s case was as flamboyant as you.
With a quick ask of her Cashapp name, you sent over the amount with a little extra, and skipped your way out of the door.
While Ellie looked over the notification, she had taken her prescription glasses off of her face to clean them, sure she was witnessing a smudge.
The amount itself wasn’t what shocked her, while $50 was a lot higher than the $15 she humbly requested from her customers.
No, it was the note that came attached to the money: “extra $20 bc ur cute ;)”
Ellie’s smile grew so wide that it made her face hurt as she gave the request a red heart reaction.
Math will definitely be your guys' next subject to study.
𖦹 𖦹 𖦹
im so sorry if this sucks, guys!! no one requested this, i just seen how much love the headcanons got, so i took it upon myself to practice my writing while also staying active on this blog. haven’t wrote full out fanfiction since middle school, so i hope this wasn’t unbearable (◞‸ ◟)💧
cw ! smoking weed. mutual pining. ellie is actually just a loser lesbian under the guise of being nonchalant. rushed work ;(
ellie didn't do favorites. she'd always found them pointless. no soft spots, no attachments. she liked her deals to be quick and clean — strictly business. zero bullshit.
people were a little afraid of her for that reason. she kept to herself, locked down and unreachable, so naturally, no one really knew her, and that's how she liked it. her reputation was solid: she sold the best shit, and nobody wasted her time.
but you were different.
you got under her skin in a way that caught her off guard. made her smirk when she should've stayed cold. made her laugh when she didn't want to. somehow, you'd slipped past every wall she'd ever put up without even trying.
she didn't even realize how fast it happened — how quickly you'd gone from just another customer to someone she actually looked forward to seeing.
you were her favorite, not that she ever said it out loud. because ellie didn't have favorites. ellie didn't give out free weed in exchange for kisses. ellie didn't open up. but you were always the exception.
and weirdly, she didn't even mind. that colder version of herself, the one who's used to having control, was probably screaming somewhere deep inside — but she never felt it. you invaded her space, and she somehow liked it. it became a routine.
now she's parked outside your apartment again, blunts already rolled. you appear a few seconds after she pulls up, worn blanket bundled in your arms like always, and you climb into the passenger seat. you curl up instantly, claiming the spot you've unofficially dubbed yours.
ellie glances over, one eyebrow raised and the corner of her mouth tugging up into a smirk. "you seriously need a blanket?" she teases, flicking her lighter open with a soft click. "i don't make it that cold in here."
you giggle, tucking the soft fabric under your chin with a satisfied little hum. "it's cause your seats aren't comfortable. that's on you." ellie scoffs under her breath, passing you the blunt. "you're just bougie," she mutters — but her smile is real soft when she says it. unguarded.
you take a slow hit, your eyes drifting toward her as she backs out of the parking space and merges onto the main road. "you like me," you say casually, smoke curling from your lips. she rolls her eyes, but doesn't argue. of course she likes you.
she drives one-handed, her right hand slipping under the blanket, fingers lazily rubbing circles on your thigh. you two drive around aimlessly — through back roads, side streets, even neighborhoods neither of you really know the name of.
the radio hums beneath your conversation, playing the playlist she'd never admit she made special for you and these nights.
the ride stretches for over two hours. she doesn't rush it, and neither do you. by the time she pulls back into your apartment complex, you're both wrapped in a haze of warm silence.
you stretch slowly, the blanket slipping down to your lap, and you pull the cherry chapstick from the pocket of your pajama shorts. ellie watches from the corner of her eyes as you swipe it over your lips, slow and deliberate.
you gather your blanket and climb out, circling around to her side of the car. the window's already rolled down. "you're so sweet," you tell her softly, voice almost teasing. her cheeks tint a faint pink right away, though she plays it off. "shut up. where's my kiss? weed isn't free."
you hum thoughtfully and lean in, pressing a kiss to her left cheek, then again, just like you always do. then, you pause. look at her.
her eyes flick to your mouth for half a second. you lean in once more, and this time, you kiss her on the lips — deliberate, slow, with just enough pressure to make it real. she stiffens for a second, surprised, and then melts right into it.
when you pull back, you smile. "your lips looked dry," you whisper. ellie blinks, staring at you like you just short-circuited her brain. you smile more at her dumbfounded expression, tugging the blanket tighter around yourself. "night, els."
she watches you retreat to your apartment, making sure you get inside. then she exhales, head lulling against the headrest, lips still tingling with the cherry balm and the shape of your mouth.
"fuck," she mutters.
you weren't official. not yet. but that kiss? that kiss might've just given her the confidence to do something about that.
⊹ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬— Senior year is yours: short skirts, Britney blaring, a boring boyfriend named Scotty and a reputation you sharpen like a knife—until Ellie Williams, the grungy problem you’ve been hating for years (and secretly hooking up with for months), corners you at Jackson Wang’s biggest house party.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭— 9,7k
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬— hs!au, popular/mean!reader x punk!ellie, oral sex (r!receiving), scissoring, mutual pining, cheating on bf (he's insufferable) underage drinking/party, semi-public sex, tit play, rachel + dina being absolute queens, ben sh*piro mention, ellie has facial piercings, inspired in the rodrina ship, dialogue heavy, jackson wang being the ultimate multiverse party host and jesse's cousin bcos i have incredible use of free will, strong language, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
Another day, another opportunity to make everyone’s life a little bit more impossible.
That’s the first thought that actually makes you smile when your alarm goes off.
You lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of senior year pressing down and the thrill of knowing you can still bend it around your little finger. Then you drag yourself up, padding over to your vanity, the floorboards cold under your bare feet.
The mirror catches you in that in-between light. Too early to look hot. You pull your hair forward, tilt your head, and get to work.
Twisting your hair into something that looks careless but took way too much time, you run your fingers through the ends until they fall just right. Concealer under your eyes, dabbed in with your ring finger. A touch of blush. Brows brushed up. Mascara. No crazy liner, no heavy shadow—just that soft, “I woke up like this” lie you’ve perfected.
Lip gloss, the shiny kind that makes your mouth look kissable. You press your lips together, check the effect, then reach for your perfume. One spritz on your wrist, dabbed on your neck. Another mist in the air that you step through.
On your bed, your outfit waits.
Your skirt is an inch away from being a hate crime against the dress code. Tiny, black, sitting folded in a perfect square. Beside it, a tight bubblegum pink top that clings more than covers, with a neckline that’s technically modest but only if you stand very, very still.
You shimmy into the skirt, tug it a fraction lower, then a fraction higher, watching the mirror. The top follows, soft cotton stretching over your chest, catching the light in all the right places. You do a little half-turn, checking the back.
They’re absolutely gonna hate this.
Which, of course, is the goal.
By the time you shove your feet into your boots and sling your bag over your shoulder, you’re put together.
The drive to school is a blast of 2000's pop music. Your car is so unmistakably you that even the seats smell like vanilla lotion and your perfume because you basically live in it. It’s a black Mini Cooper, way too cute for how recklessly you drive it. You drum your fingers on the steering wheel and sing along at every stop sign, your phone buzzing every few seconds with notifications.
Rachel:
u here yet slut?
You:
pulling in now keep ur tits on
You park (horrendously) and fix your gloss in the rearview one last time, then step out into the senior lot. The air smells like exhaustion, cheap deodorant, and teenage desperation. Perfect.
Rachel’s already waiting by the front door.
She’s leaning back against the brick column, one leg crossed over the other, scrolling on her phone with the kind of casual power that says everyone is background except her. Her brunette hair is glossy and blown-out, falling in waves over her bare shoulders. Her skirt is even shorter than yours, which should get her suspended on whatever planet the principal lives on.
The second she spots you, her face splits into a grin that’s all perfect teeth.
“What’s up, darling,” she sing-songs, pushing off the wall and immediately hooking her arm through yours like she owns you (wich she kind of does.)
“Nothing much,” you reply, leaning into her shoulder as you both start walking. “You?”
“Same,”
You both pass a group of juniors huddled by the stairs. Two of them go quiet staring at you, one girl’s gaze dragging down your outfit with equal parts judgment and envy. Rachel clocks it, rolls her eyes so hard you hear it.
“Ugh, freshmen with driver’s licenses,” she mutters. “Braver than the troops.”
You snort, then sigh. “What class do we even have right now?”
Rachel stops walking mid-stride like you’ve hit her with tragic news. She squints toward the building before declaring in the worst monotone. “Science.”
You look at each other for half a second before letting out the exact same long, miserable, synchronized groan.
“Uuuuughhhh.”
She tips her head back dramatically. “I refuse to start my day with molecules and that man’s coffee breath. Actually refuse.”
“Gonna ask that loser Matty for the homework later,” you say, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.
“Make sure to pass it to me too, slut.” She squeezes your arm. “Tonight I wanna watch Clueless for, like, the hundredth time and do my nails instead of reading whatever nonsense is in that textbook.”
“A woman of culture,”
She grins. “As if.”
You keep walking, heels clicking against tile once you’re inside, the hallway buzzing with morning chaos. Lockers slam. Someone laughs too loud. A teacher tells someone to take their hat off. The usual.
You and Rachel move through it like it’s your runway. People part just enough, eyes follow, and someone whistles, which makes Rachel flip them off without looking to see who it was.
“You saw what Liam posted last night?” she asks, scrolling while she walks, thumbs flying.
“Do I ever want to see what Liam posts?”
“He and his little band of emotionally unavailable chops were doing a ‘jam session.’” She pulls a face. “We get it, you know two chords of a Fireflies’ song.”
You’re still laughing when you step out into the open patio that leads to the science building. You’re about to make a mean joke when your gaze drifts ahead, lazy and uninterested.
And lands exactly where it always does.
Ellie.
She’s by the picnic tables with Dina and Jesse, half in the shade, half in the sun, same spot they always gravitate toward. Dina is sitting cross-legged on the table itself, curls piled on top of her head, scrolling her phone. Jesse’s talking with his hands, animated, probably telling some story that ends with him almost dying and Ellie pretending to care.
Your stomach does a stupid, embarrassing little flip before you can stop it.
Because she looks… really hot.
Hotter than usual, which is honestly offensive, because she’s already been a problem for years.
Maybe it’s the way her hair looks like she actually ran her fingers through it instead of letting entropy be her personal stylist. It’s still messy, still rebellious, but in that deliberate punk way that says I don’t care and somehow proves she absolutely does. Wild auburn strands fall into her eyes; strands you’ve held in your fist.
Maybe it’s her eyeliner, smudged and definitely not applied, dark and uneven like she dragged a thumb across it half-asleep. Her jeans, shredded at the knees, edges frayed soft from real wear. Her battered Converse look like they’ve lived a life—scuffed, drawn over in Sharpie. Her nose ring and eyebrow piercing, catching your eye as they glint silver in the sunlight.
Maybe it’s the way she lounges. One arm sprawled across the back of the bench, shoulders slouched, legs spread like the earth beneath her is lucky she sits on it. She’s laughing at something Jesse said, and you catch that stupid dent in her cheek that you’ve kissed before, that you’ve bitten before, that you’ve felt under your thumb.
You don’t even remember when it started.
When a casual stare lasted a second too long, or when a snarky argument turned into a kiss, or when a kiss ended up with your clothes on the floor.
The first hook up wasn’t planned. It just happened. One night, too close in someone’s basement, or maybe in the back of your car, or maybe behind the gym — it’s all blurred now — but what you remember is the heat. The shock of her mouth on yours. The rush.
You told yourself it was a one time mistake that would never happen again.
Except it happened again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Until the rhythm of it was carved into both of you, familiar as breathing, dangerous as fire.
She became your secret addiction, the one you never confessed to Rachel, never even allowed yourself to fully acknowledge in your own head. Because in public? She’s just the messy, punk, smart-mouthed girl you pretend isn’t worth a glance.
But right now, in the sharp morning sun, the pull is immediate. The craving is automatic. Your heartbeat kicks hard and traitorously against your ribs.
You keep walking, the world watching the pretty girl doing her morning entrance, but what they don’t know is that she’s privately fight the urge to walk straight to Ellie Williams and drag her mouth onto hers.
And Ellie’s eyes flicker up mid-laugh.
Her laughter stutters. Her eyes trail down over your skirt, your bare legs, the deep neckline of your top, the glint of your lip gloss, then drag back up to your eyes.
She looks away first. She always does. Her jaw flexes once—that familiar little tick—and she leans back, taking a sip from whatever tragic, lukewarm school-coffee disaster she’s holding like she’s perfectly unaffected.
Dina snorts, flipping a curl over her shoulder. “Jesus. There they go again.”
Ellie doesn’t take the bait. She just bends down, re-tying her shoe with obsessive focus.
Jesse watches her for three slow seconds before elbowing her. “Dude. You were staring waaay too hard at Y/N.”
Ellie scoffs, still not looking up, thumb picking at a loose thread on her jeans. “You’re imagining shit. I literally hate her.”
“You only say that ‘cause you think it sounds tough,”
“No. I say it ‘cause she’s annoying.”
“You’re annoying,” Dina says absently.
Ellie flips her off without even lifting her head.
Jesse exhales a low whistle as he watches you and Rachel walk across the courtyard. “Okay, but… honestly? They look hella fine today.”
Dina nods slowly, eyes narrowing with appreciation. “Those skirts should be illegal.”
“Right??” Jesse responds. “That’s like dress code violation, indecency, and emotional assault all in one.”
“...Rachel looks hot as fuck tho.” Dina’s mouth curves.
Ellie mocks her tone. “Yall are dramatic as fuck tho.”
Jesse elbows her again. “C’mon, Williams. You’re telling me you didn’t even notice?”
She shrugs, scratching her nose ring. “Couldn’t care less.”
Dina raises a brow. “That’s the gayest ‘fine’ I’ve ever heard.”
Meanwhile, you’ve hardly made it ten steps when Rachel loops her arm back through yours, tugging you closer.
“Why were you looking at those losers so much?”
You snort. “They just look extra tragic today.”
Rachel glances back at their table, squinting. “I mean… Dina looks kinda fetch.”
You stop walking and stare at her. “Rachel. Stop trying to make fetch happen.”
“Boo, you whore” She groans and bumps your shoulder. “At least they have way more style than Scotty.”
Oh, right. Scotty. You forgot that he existed.
You snicker. “That’s the lowest bar humanly possible.”
“Doesn’t matter. Scotty’s still crawling under it.”
You laugh. “Don’t be mean.”
“Oh, I’ll be mean.” Rachel tosses her hair. “Your boyfriend dresses like a PE teacher.”
“He’s not my—I didn’t—he’s not—”
She barrels on. “And smells like the cheapest Axe body spray.”
You choke on your spit laughing. “Rach—”
“At least Ellie and her little band of misfits have some aesthetic going! They’re like, emo urban punk chic.”
“That… is actually accurate.”
“Thank you. I’m a genius.” She pauses and thinks for a second. “Still wouldn’t fuck Jesse though.”
You snort. “And Dina?”
“Oh, Dina’s hot. I’d let her ruin my life.”
“Fair.”
“And Ellie’s—well—Ellie’s Ellie.”
You freeze, just enough. “What... does that even mean?”
“Means what it means,” she says, jabbing a finger at you, “but accept you have tragically bad taste in men.”
You roll your eyes. “Whatever.”
Rachel opens her mouth to continue, then freezes.
“Oh. Speaking of the devil...” she says, sing-song and gleeful.
You barely have time to blink before Scotty rockets into your personal space with a booming:
“HEY baby!”
Of fucking course.
He’s already grinning and clutching his protein shake, wearing the same wrinkled jersey that might actually be fused to his body at this point. You roll your eyes dramatically—just for Rachel—then spin around with a voice so sugary fake it could give someone diabetes.
“Heeey, babe!”
Rachel nearly snaps her neck looking away just so he can’t see her laugh.
And across the courtyard, Ellie rolls her eyes so hard she nearly sees last week.
“God, that guy’s voice makes me want to step in front of a bus.”
“Someone’s jealous,” Dina singsongs.
Ellie swings her backpack onto her shoulder with unnecessary force. “I just—hate loud guys.”
“Scotty isn’t even that loud,” Jesse says.
“He exists loudly,”
Meanwhile, Scotty’s hand settles on your waist as he asks, “You stopping by practice later? I wanna show you the new play—”
You cut him off lightly, “Totally,” with a little smile that says I will absolutely not be there.
Ellie sees his hand on you and her expression goes completely flat.
Dina cackles under her breath. “Oh boy….”
She looks away again, almost violently. “I literally don’t care.”
“Totally not caring,” Jesse says.
“Yep, zero feelings happening over there,” Dina adds.
Ellie shoots them both a murderous look. “If yall don’t shut the fuck up—”
The rest of the day passes in a blur, until by evening the house is quiet and the sun has dipped low, leaving your bedroom lit by warm lamplight and the amber glow of late afternoon fading into dusk.
You’re stretched across your bed in tiny shorts and that thin, low-cut pajama tank that barely qualifies as clothing—legs bare, skin soft, hair loose. The air smells like warm cotton and vanilla. A playlist hums in the room, bubblegum pop tracks that melt into the background.
You crack open your Victoria’s Secret lotion and begin smoothing it up your thighs, slow, indulgent strokes, working the lotion into your skin as the music murmurs through the speakers.
Until your phone lights up.
Ellie.
You pause mid-stroke, smile blooming slowly as you slide your thumb over the screen and bring it to your ear.
“Hey there, pretty.”
Her voice is low—raspy—like she’s spent the whole day smoking.
“Hey ells.”
“Mmmm… been waiting for you to pick up.”
You absentmindedly tug at the edge of your blanket, twisting it between your fingers.
“Why? Miss me that bad?”
“…maybe.”
You bite your lip.
“Uh-huh?”
Silence. Charged.
“Anyways…” she says, slow now. “What was that little look you threw me today?”
You gasp—dramatic, offended. “What look?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I literally don’t know what you mean.”
“You practically undressed me with your eyes in front of the entire school.”
You flip onto your stomach, chin on your pillow, feet kicking, but your voice keeps itself dry and unimpressed.
“Relax. I stare at losers like you all the time.”
She chokes on a laugh. “Wow. Fucking ruthless tonight.”
“I’m just saying—you always act like you invented being hot or whatever.”
“Knew it.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“No,” she pushes, tone playful but predatory, “say it again.”
“Say what?”
“That you thought I looked hot.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes—she can’t see it, but she can feel it.
“I didn’t say that. I said you looked dumb.”
Ellie snorts. “You’re so bad at lying”
You drag your voice into a lazy drawl, stretching the words:
“And you’re so unbelievably annoying.”
“And hot,” she reminds you.
You fight it. You try to hold the line. Your lips press together.
Then, finally, barely above a whisper, as if the words are pulled from your throat by force:
“…and hot.”
There’s silence. Then a slow, satisfied hum—warm and victorious.
“Knew you’d get there eventually.”
You tug the blanket closer to your chest. Your voice switches, curious, teasing.
“So… why couldn’t you come over last night?”
She groans. “God. Jesse and Dina showed up uninvited. Stole my couch, ate all my snacks, and passed out.”
You laugh into the pillow. “They’re literally animals.”
“Animals I’m stuck with,” she mutters. There’s a pause, then a quieter exhale. “Sorry about that. I was really hoping to see you.”
Your breath stills just a little.
“Yeah... me too.”
There’s a beat. Then, casual, way too casual to be believable:
“Then tell your little companion dog to keep his hands to himself next time.”
You blink. “…Scotty?”
“Yeah. I saw his whole… display. Fucking PDA moment of the century.” She pauses. “Thought I might lose the ability to see permanently.”
You bite your lip, smiling. “Are you… jealous?”
“Of that clown? Fuck no.” She gives a short laugh that’s almost convincing. “He’s harmless. Harmless and brainless.”
Silence, then, slipping out before she can catch it:
“And he sure doesn’t touch you like I do.”
Your breath stutters. “Ellie—”
But she barrels on quickly, tone swinging back up, deflecting, masking.
“I just mean—like—he’s so…awkward, you know? Hands everywhere but somehow nowhere.”
“…uh-huh.”
“I mean, if he’s gonna hold you, he should at least do it right.”
You raise a brow, teasing. “And you think you do it right?”
Her voice dips.
“I know I do.”
You swallow. Hard. Your voice shifts, taunting. “Maybe don’t stare so hard then.”
She huffs a small laugh, and you can hear her tounge piercing clicking her teeth. “Too late for that.”
“...See you on Saturday?” she asks after some seconds of silence.
“Sure thing.”
“Wear something I’ll like?”
“We’ll see.”
Ellie clicks her tongue, a quiet little sound of amused warning.
“Don’t tease.”
“That’s literally my entire personality.”
She laughs, and the sound rolls straight into your pillow.
“Yeah… and it kills me.”
You smile into the fabric. “I’ll wear something cute. But definitely not for you.”
“Suuure. Goodnight, gorgeous.”
A flicker in your chest.
“Goodnight, ells.”
You pull the phone away—
But you hear it, even if it’s barely audible.
“…can’t wait to see you.”
Saturday comes faster than you expect.
The bass shakes the walls like the house itself is pre-gaming. The lights you strung around your mirror are glowing warm and golden, catching flashes of glitter as you and Rachel are mid-popstar ritual, the two of you belting “I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman” into makeup brushes like you’re headlining Madison Square Garden.
You’re already dressed, a red, tight, devastating dress clinging to your curves like it was tailored to your bloodstream. The fabric hugs your waist, the neckline sits scandalously soft against your chest, and your legs go on forever.
Rachel’s wearing cheetah-print shorts and a black tank. Her long chocolate brown hair falls like silk over her shoulders as she runs a brush through it, each stroke straight and glossy.
You’re leaning into the mirror when you pause and hand her the eyeliner.
“Can you do it? I’m gonna fuck it up.”
Rachel cracks her knuckles dramatically, already holding the eyeliner with surgical precision.
“Hold still, bitch.”
“I am still.”
“No, you’re like—micro-spasming.”
“My eyeball spasms because I’m ALIVE, 'Chel.”
She snorts, finishing the eyeliner with perfect mannerisms, then reaching for blush and dusting it across your cheekbones with a flourish.
Your phone buzzes on the dresser.
Scotty:
Omw, picking yall up in five
Rachel leans over your shoulder to read it, makes a face like she smelled something rotten, and lets out an evil giggle.
“‘In five’? So… he’ll be here in twenty-five.”
You laugh under your breath. “Honestly? Yeah.”
She sighs dramatically and collapses backward onto your bed. “Let’s discuss the actual crisis.”
“What crisis?”
She looks up at the ceiling as if praying. “Your boyfriend.”
You snort. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice.” She lifts a finger. “Because if I wasn’t, I’d ask why a scarecrow has a pulse.”
You giggle behind your hand. “Stop it.”
“No, seriously. Every time he talks, I feel my IQ slipping.”
You throw yourself onto the bed beside her. “He’s….”
“Dull.”
“Okay—yes.”
“And insufferable.”
“And the worst part,” you sigh, “is he’s so… normal. Like—painfully normal. Beige personality. Human oatmeal.”
Rachel gestures broadly at you — the red dress, the glossy lips, the perfume cloud in the air.
“And you,” she declares, “are not oatmeal.”
“I’m like… a dirty martini.”
“You are a super filthy martini.”
"The filthiest martini."
You both howl.
Then she quiets, eyes sliding sideways toward you. “So why are you really still with him?”
You stare at the ceiling. “Because it’s… easy. He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t push me. He’s uncomplicated.”
Rachel nods slowly. “And complicated is scary.”
Your throat tightens.
Complicated has a name and a face.
Silence sits for a second. Then she changes tone entirely—bright, wicked:
“You know the little punk squad is gonna be there tonight.”
You roll your eyes instantly. Reflexive. Sharp. Automatic.
“Ellie’s invited? God. Jackson’s standards are in hell.”
Rachel pauses, staring at you like she just discovered the single answer for a million questions.
“…I wasn’t talking about Ellie.”
You blink. “Then who—?”
“Liam and his mediocre band of chops. But WOW, fascinating that you went straight to Ellie.”
You go still. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“I don’t care about Ellie.”
Rachel raises a brow. “Right. You don’t care. That’s why you said her name before I even finished my sentence.”
You open your mouth—close it—open it again.
“I… literally… hate her…”
“Oh, absolutely. You hate her so much you picked a dress that makes your boobs look supernatural and might send her into cardiac arrest.”
You smack her arm. “SHUT UP. I don’t like Ellie.”
Rachel shrugs innocently. “I never said you did!”
You shoot her a murderous squint.
Britney flips into “Gimme More.”
Rachel shoots upright. “YES. Lips.”
You both grab your lip liners and exaggerate your cupid’s bows, and just when you finish, a truck horn bleats aggressively.
She parts the curtains, deadpan. “And behold… your personal Uber XL.”
You stand, pull your dress down over your thighs. Rachel’s jaw drops.
“Holy fuck. You better hope Ellie doesn’t see you first tonight, because she’ll probably cum in those crusty jeans of hers.”
You pick up your bag. “I told you,” you mutter, quiet, steady — a practiced lie. “I don’t care if she’s there.”
Rachel sings lightly under her breath, “You sooooo don’t caaaare…”
“Enough!”
Meanwhile, Ellie is not getting ready. Not in the girl-coded sense, anyway. There’s no perfume-cloud ritual, no outfit selection method, no lip gloss, no skincare.
Her outfit is whatever she grabbed off the floor: a beat-up leather jacket that looks like it belonged to three previous owners, baggy jeans hanging low on her hips, converse that look like they’ve seen riots and eyeliner smudged with a thumb rub.
She’s in the garage, her natural habitat.
Bare concrete floor, string lights that flicker on death’s door, an ancient Sex Pistols poster half-torn and taped crookedly to brick. A cheap bluetooth speaker blasting Alive so loud the bass vibrates in the ribcage.
Her, Dina, and Jesse are slumped on battered chairs that don’t match — not in color, shape, or structural integrity — pregaming like they’re warming up for a prison riot.
Jesse’s already on beer number… two? Three? Who knows. “Bro, Jackson’s parties always go fucking insane. Rich kids have no self-control.”
Ellie takes a sip of warm beer, wipes her mouth with her sleeve. The flash of ink on her forearm catches in the dim light.
Jesse taps his boot against hers. “Yo. The princess is gonna be there.”
Ellie groans with the passion of a dying animal. “Ugh. Of course she is. Scotty too? God. Just kill me.”
He grins and shakes his head. “You’re obsessed.”
“Shut the fuck up. I literally want her dead.”
Dina snorts into her drink. “Oh, yeah. Because nothing says ‘I hate her’ like staring at her ass for forty-five uninterrupted seconds yesterday.”
Ellie goes instantly pink in the ears. “I did not—”
“You did,” Jesse says without even looking up.
Ellie flips him off.
Dina kicks her feet up onto the paint-splattered table. “Be honest: you’re gonna lose your shit when you see her tonight.”
“No. Why the fuck would I—”
Jesse sing-songs in a taunting melody: “Y/N’s gonna be thereee—”
Ellie goes still. “…Eat shit.”
Pearl Jam rips through the speaker, and the guitar solo fills the silences.
Jesse wipes his chin dramatically. “I’m Jackson’s cousin. Which means I’m getting first access to the top-shelf shit tonight. But the real entertainment?” He jerks a thumb at Ellie. “Watching you lose your mind every time Miss Congeniality walks by.”
“I’m not—”
Dina leans forward, eyebrows up. “You’ve had a crush since you were, like, fifteen.”
Ellie scoffs, picking at her chipped black nail polish like it’s suddenly fascinating. “Can you not.”
“She’s right,” Jesse cuts in. “We literally found a sketch of her in your notebook once.”
Ellie nearly falls sideways off her chair, beer sloshing. “That wasn’t— I was practicing linework—!”
“Duda. It was her tits.”
“ARTISTIC. ANATOMICAL. STUDY.”
Dina wheezes with laughter, nearly spilling his beer. “Is that what you call jerking off over it?”
Ellie throws a crushed can at her knees. “I didn’t—fuck off—!”
Jesse is giggling so hard he wipes tears from his eyes. “You get so visibly deranged every time we drag you. It’s embarrassing.”
Ellie jumps up, starts pacing like an agitated wolf. “I hate her. She’s— she’s fucking princessy. She walks around like she owns every room she enters.”
“And you look at her like she’s the second coming of Christ in heels.”
“I DO NOT.”
“Oh yeah?” Dina cackles. “Then why’d you walk face-first into a pole staring at her last month?”
“BECAUSE THE POLE WAS IN THE WAY—”
Jesse groans, standing and stretching. “Oh my god. Ellie… just admit it. You’re down astronomically bad.”
Ellie bites her thumbnail, aggressively refusing eye contact with them. “Whatever. You both can choke.”
"Okay," Jesse stands, cracking his back. “Finish your beer. We’re leaving.”
Ellie chugs the rest in one go.
Dina crushes her can under her combat boot. “Jackson’s cousin perks. Tonight, we drink like royalty.”
Ellie snatches her keys off the workbench and jams them into her carabiner. “Let’s go before I sober up.”
Jesse loops an arm around her shoulders. “If she looks hot tonight — which she will — try not to drool on the floor, yeah?”
Ellie shrugs him off. “Enough!”
Scotty’s truck rattles down the street like every loose bolt is begging for mercy, country radio humming through the cheap speakers, and he is TALKING. Giving a TED Talk on being insufferable.
“All I’m saying is people don’t grind hard enough anymore. Like, mindset is everything. I’ve been waking up at 5am, cold showers, protein, mental clarity, alpha focus—”
Rachel sits stiff in the backseat, staring dead ahead like she’s mentally filing an insurance claim for emotional damage.
You nod vaguely, not registering a single word. “Totally.”
Scotty beams. “Right? YES. Exactly. Success is internal, it’s about discipline. I’ve been listening to Ben Shapiro’s podcast, and he was talking about—”
You stifle a laugh.
“And it’s like — men today? They don’t have direction. They don’t have purpose. They’re beta. They’re cucks. They surrender to society instead of shaping it—”
You glance at Rachel in the rearview and confirm your suspicion that she's been dissociating ever since she got into the truck.
Scotty gestures with his hand while driving, terrifyingly. “And people stopped listening to real music. It's all modern crap. Country is authentic. It’s honest. Not like—whatever that girl listens to.”
You blink. “What girl?”
“Elleanor? Elluz? Elliana? Whatever,” Scotty shrugs. “Her and her group's whole vibe is so weird.”
You force a calm and unbothered tone, but your pulse is already spiking. “Why are you even bringing them up....”
“Because they're freaks. Like punk is just… cosplay rebellion. If you listen to REAL lyrics? Real country? It’s about America, roots, tradition—and also I think modern feminism—”
Rachel cuts in loudly.
“OH LOOK. WE’RE HERE. THANK GOD.”
Scotty blinks. “Oh — yeah! Right on time. Ten minutes exactly.”
You and Rachel share a look that says:
Ten minutes of relentless suffering.
At that exact moment, outside the truck’s window you hear the growl of an engine. A van whips around the corner: spray-painted, rust-chewing on the wheel wells, hard rock pouring through the windows at full volume.
Jesse behind the wheel, sunglasses on. Dina hanging half out the passenger window. Ellie slouched behind them—eyes half-lidded and lazy from pregame beer.
Scotty pulls up at the curb.
They pull up at the exact same second.
Rachel just whispers under her breath staring at the van like it’s a circus act arriving in synchronized chaos “…lol.”
Both car doors slam, yours with a neat click, theirs with a BANG–thud–rattle.
Rachel straightens your outfit with a quick tug at your hem, already in hostess mode. You toss your hair once, smooth the gloss on your lips with a press, and the two of you start toward the front gate, heels ticking on the sidewalk.
Behind you, Jesse’s rambling, voice booming with alcohol enthusiasm:
“And bro, wait ‘til you see the pool lights, Jackson FUCKING installed lasers—like actual lasers—”
Dina nearly trips over the curb, clutching her phone. “OH MY GOD I LOVE RICH PEOPLE.”
Ellie grumbles, leather jacket sleeve slipping halfway down her wrist—her walk slower than the others, steps dragging a little, “Good. Maybe I’ll die in there.”
They’re behind you now, their footsteps uneven, their laughter too loud.
And just as the walkway narrows, Ellie draws even with you. For a second, it’s just you and her passing under the warm wash of a patio light.
Shoulders brush.
Skin meets leather.
You smell her—cedar, beer, nicotine gum, something warm, and your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, but you refuse to face her. And in a millisecond, fast enough for no one to notice, she leans in, mouth near your ear.
Her voice slips into you like heat:
“You don’t make it easy, you know. Walking around in shit like that.”
Your pulse jumps so hard your breath hitches. You don’t answer. You don’t turn.
Her eyes follow that silent reaction, that slight jolt in your neck, the flutter beneath your collarbone, and she can’t hide the smug tilt of her mouth.
But Rachel sees. Oh, she sees. Her eyes flick back and forth—connecting dots like a detective solving a murder.
But she doesn’t blow it up yet.
You don’t look at Ellie. Ellie doesn’t look at you.
You tell yourself the shiver in your spine is from the night air.
Scotty jogs ahead to ring the doorbell like an eager dog, waving at Jackson through the window.
Rachel falls into step beside you as the door swings open.
She leans in close, voice barely audible: “What did she just say to you?”
You shake your head. “Nothing.”
But your cheeks are warm and the lie tastes like sugar on your tongue.
And Inside, the party isn’t just loud—it’s cinematic.
Fog rolls out low over the floor like dry ice in a music video. LED strips pulse in time with the bass: blue—violet—magenta—white flash—repeat. The air smells like cherry ice vape, spilled vodka, chlorine drifting in from the glass doors leading to the pool. People are everywhere, on the stairs, on the couches, on the counters, grinding in the hallways, laughing in clumps near the bar.
And at the center of it all: Jackson Wang.
He’s standing on the marble staircase like it’s his royal balcony—champagne flute in one hand, mic in the other, shirt half-buttoned, gold chain shining.
“WELCOME MY BEAUTIFUL BROKE ASS FRIENDS!” he announces, voice booming over the music for just a second. “TONIGHT—WE DRINK LIKE WE’RE ON FORBES AND FUCK LIKE WE’RE ON SPRING BREAK!”
The crowd howls. Someone throws glow sticks.
Jesse mutters as he pushes through the crowd toward the bar, “God he’s insufferable.”
At the bar, Jackson drapes an arm around Jesse. “Little cousin! I saved the expensive shit for you,” he says, pointing to a sleek dark whiskey bottle that costs more than someone's rent.
“Drink responsibly,” he adds—before winking dramatically—“or don’t.”
Jesse groans. “You’re lucky I like having rich relatives.”
Jackson gives Ellie a nod, chin lifting. “Williams.”
Ellie lifts her beer like a salute. “Wang.”
“You good?”
“Chillin’.”
They fade into the crowd—Dina going to find people to scream with, Jesse snagging shots, Ellie leaning against the counter near the bar.
Meanwhile, Rachel yanks you straight into the thrumming pulse of the dance floor.
“You’re not allowed to stand pretty tonight,” she says. “You’re dancing.”
The DJ rolls into a remix—heavy bass, dark driving beat—The Weeknd’s tracks. You and Rachel press into the rhythm, hips swaying, bodies loose, no effort, no hesitation. You laugh with her, hair flipping, glow on your skin.
Scotty arrives. Uninvited. “BABEEE! It’s crowded!” he half-shouts.
“It’s a PARTY.”
He looks impressed, like you invented the concept. Then he tries to dance, with confidence. And zero actual ability.
He plants them at your hips. Then lower. Then back up again like he’s searching for the Instruction Manual of Sexy Touch Positioning.
You don’t stop him. You even laugh back at him, lips parted, head thrown slightly back—your dress shifting higher with every move.
People start noticing, eyes following your movements, scanning your legs, your hair, the trail of light across your skin.
You’re a highlight in the room.
And Ellie sees you.
She’s mid-sip of her beer, Jesse saying something beside her—but her eyes land on you like a sniper scope clicking into place.
Her thumb taps the neck of the beer bottle, slow at first, then faster, an impatient beat that matches the song.
“Dude…”
Ellie doesn’t look away. “Don’t.”
“You’re staring.”
“I don’t—” Ellie shrugs, tries to look casual. “I’m just—looking in that direction.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s a free house.”
“So you’re just… observing the alcohol table right next to her ass.”
Ellie closes her eyes with a pained expression. “…Fuck you.”
Across the room, Rachel leans in behind you, eyes flicking toward Ellie, voice low in your ear:
“She’s watching.”
You don’t look. You don’t turn. But you feel it, that sensation of heat on the back of your neck.
“She can choke,” you mutter.
“…you.”
You shove her gently. “Shut up.”
The song shifts—something poppy and upbeat—and Scotty immediately belts the lyrics horribly off-key.
“This is my JAM!!!”
It isn’t. No one else reacts. He’s shouting starfish-armed in the middle of the floor. You grit your teeth.
Scotty dips you dramatically—wrong timing—and nearly drops you. You scramble upright.
He beams. “Sorry! Sorry! Got excited!”
You force a smile. “It’s fine.”
And behind you, Ellie’s jaw ticks.
“Bro… Just admit it. You’re fucking jealous.”
Ellie drags her tongue over her teeth, eyes still on you.
“I literally don’t give a shit,” she says, words clipped, lying through her teeth.
Jesse pats her shoulder. “Sure. And I’m a Disney princess.”
And from across the party, just for one second—you glance over.
You don’t even register the song that’s playing anymore. Not the bodies brushing past you. Not Scotty talking or Rachel dancing beside you.
Because your gaze catches on her across the room.
Eyes meet. Storm-to-spark. And suddenly the music, the lights, the bodies, all smear into meaningless color around that single locked stare. You look away first, because you have to. Because if you don’t, someone will notice, and that’s more dangerous than any rumor.
But later, when Scotty gets distracted talking about microdosing discipline or whatever the fuck, and Rachel wanders off in search of alcohol that doesn’t taste like nail polish remover, you slip away.
You disappear into the hallway, leaving behind sweat and neon and noise.
Here, it’s different.
Dim, quiet, warm. The bass seeps through the wall like a muted pulse. Shadowed corners. Amber sconces. Soft, forgiving light. It feels like a liminal space, a world between worlds.
Your breathing slows as you walk deeper in.
And as you turn the corner—
Ellie.
Of fucking course.
She stops too suddenly. You stop just a fraction too late. Now you’re facing each other in a narrow corridor, trapped between old wallpaper and a locked bathroom door.
Up close, she looks even more dangerous than from across the house.
Her auburn hair looks like it’s been blown by wind, touched by hands, pulled on by fists, messily perfect. Her eyeliner is smudged from sweat. Her pierced eyebrow glints in the warm light, a small silver bar cutting through her brow.
She leans casually against the wall, but up close, you feel her presence, her attention.
You stand a few paces away, arms crossed — the only shield you have left.
“Are you following me?” you ask, chin raised.
Ellie scoffs, head tipping back against the wall. “Yeah, totally. Because the entire world revolves around you.”
You shrug lightly. “It does for most people.”
Her mouth twitches — the beginning of a grin — and she rakes a hand through her hair, exposing her tattoo for a second: dark ink curling across the inside of her forearm.
Silence slips between you, molten, alive, humming with unspoken history.
Then Ellie speaks, lightly, but not lightly at all:
“Nice dress.”
You keep your face still. “Don’t talk to me in public.”
Her eyes flick down your figure slowly, then back up. “Better than talking to your boyfriend.”
“Jealous, much?”
Ellie turns her head fully now, eyes dragging down and up your body again, slower this time.
“Jealous of who? Skinny-Jeans McYeehaw? Be serious.”
You try not to laugh but a little smile slips through anyway. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s fucking hilarious,” she counters.
Your perfume hits her. Hers hits you. Or maybe it’s sweat. Or smoke. Or Ellie.
You lean back against the other wall now, mirroring her. Your dress glimmers in the hallway light. Her eyes catch on your exposed shoulder.
You pretend not to see, but she mutters low but loud enough for you to catch it.
“You look really fucking hot.”
Your breath stutters. You steer into deflection: “…Again. Don’t talk to me in public.”
Her lip ring shifts as she grins. “You literally spoke to me first.”
“I didn’t.”
“Bullshit.”
You push off the wall, closing half the distance between you.
She notices. Her breathing changes, just enough. Her jaw tightens, just enough. Her eyes drop to your lips.
“You're insufferable,” you whisper.
Ellie’s head tilts slightly forward, as if her body already decided to respond before her brain did.
“You didn't say that last Friday...”
Your pulse kicks. “Ellie—”
“What?”
“You’re drunk.”
She lifts a brow piercing. “Not really.”
“You’re buzzed.”
“Maybe.”
“And you’re being… annoying.”
She chuckles, rough and soft at once. “You’re the one stomping down the hallway like it owes you rent.”
“I had to pee.”
“Right.” She nods slowly. “Absolutely nothing to do with the fact I walked here at the same time.”
You open your mouth to argue. She beats you to it, voice barely above breath:
“You really think I don’t notice when you follow me?”
You feel heat creep up your neck. You shake your head. “I wasn’t following you.”
Ellie smirks, slow and knowing. “Sure. And we haven’t been hooking up for months.”
Your heart gives a violent kick. Images race through you. Ellie’s mouth on your throat Your fingers tangled in her hair. Gasps in the backseat. Clothes shoved aside. Her voice in the dark. Yours in her ear
“That’s… different.”
Ellie leans in — her lips almost grazing your jaw — and breathes:
“Is it?”
And you don’t have a comeback.
Because she’s right there. Right there.
Just before the situation escalates, the bathroom door explodes open and Jackson Wang bursts out shirtless, visibly black out drunk, wearing sunglasses indoors.
He shrieks, “ARE YOU TWO FORMING AN ALLIANCE OR WHAT?!”
You spring apart like magnets snapping away.
“No!” you bark.
“Yes.” Ellie says simultaneously.
Jackson nods like that’s sexy and strolls away humming to himself.
Ellie shifts aside, letting you pass, and you move toward the bathroom as fast as you can. Your shoulder brushes her chest as you step inside and shut the door. Your hands grip the sink — hard — because you’re shaking.
Ellie’s voice floats through the door, muffled but undeniable:
"Meet me at the van... unless you're too scared Scotty will find out."
You stare at your reflection.
Flushed cheeks. Smudged lipstick. Eyes too bright.
And the worst part?
You don’t know if you’re furious…or thrilled.
You take your time, way more than you need to. You close the toilet seat lid, sit, lean forward, elbows to knees. You breathe. You silently curse her. You stand again and reapply lip gloss with steady, practiced strokes, slow enough to look composed, quick enough to betray urgency. You fix your hair. You pull the straps of your dress back into perfect place.
And when you finally leave the bathroom, Ellie is gone.
That alone sends your pulse into a stumble.
You step into the hallway and follow the sound, down toward the thumping heart of the house. The party returns in a rush: the roar of bass, the shrieks of laughter, the splash from the pool out back.
But Rachel isn’t by the bar laughing with Jackson. She’s not in the kitchen filming a drunken thristtrap. She’s not demolishing a girl in the corner with backhanded compliments. She’s just... absent.
Scotty too. No deep voice announcing his daily protein intake, no enthusiastic hand claiming your waist as territory. He’s gone as well.
Your eyes comb through the crowd again, searching, but the only familiar face you catch is Jesse, sleeves rolled up, back arched over the kitchen island as he and Jackson are screaming over a shot competition.
The room spins around you — people yelling, lights flashing — but suddenly you’re a still point in chaos.
You know exactly where Ellie went.
And exactly who she expects to follow.
You move through the party with a kind of desperate purpose masked in indifference—pretending you’re just walking, just existing—but your heartbeat gives you away. The way your eyes skip past every face just to check the next. The way your breath stutters every time you almost see her and then don’t. The heat of the house presses against your skin, your dress suddenly sticky, your legs trembling in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol.
When you reach the back patio, the air changes. Cooler. Quieter. The night sky stretches black overhead and the street just beyond the fence looks empty. Except there. On the curb.
The van.
You see the dim yellow glow of the cabin light through the dusty windows. You step off the patio, heels tapping against the concrete like you’re counting steps to your own execution. You get closer, and the quiet feels thick—like the silence itself knows what you’re doing and is holding its breath.
The van door isn’t just unlocked, it’s slightly ajar.
You pause, one hand hovering near the handle, heart screaming against your ribs.
Then you pull it open.
Ellie is inside.
She’s sitting forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped loosely, head bowed like she’s been waiting. The second she sees you, her expression changes like a match catching fire. Her eyes drag down your legs, slow, hungry, possessive in a way that feels ancient.
Then she leans back into the seat, legs opening lazily, making room.
Neither of you say a word.
You climb inside.
The door slams shut behind you.
The darkness swallows you both.
And then she’s on you.
Her hands find your hips and drag you onto her lap with a kind of frustrated urgency like she’s been waiting forever and ran out of patience in minute one. Her mouth is on yours in a split instant, lips bruising, breath hot, desire unfiltered, messy. You gasp into her and she uses that second to slip her tongue against yours, deep, greedy, unrestrained.
Her hands slide up your thighs—slow at first, then harder—until her fingers are under your dress, gripping the backs of your legs as she pulls you closer. You feel her rings scraping lightly against your skin. You feel her thighs flex beneath you.
You bite her lip softly, rolling it in your tongue. You taste cheap beer on her mouth. You taste want.
One of your hands gets lost in her hair, messing it, pulling it, and Ellie groans into you, low and involuntary. She kisses like she’s angry at time itself, as if she’s trying to steal back every minute she ever had to pretend she didn’t want you.
Your dress rides up your thighs. Her hand slides over your ass, gripping hard. Your breath breaks into a shaky moan against her mouth. And she laughs—hungry-soft, almost taunting—before devouring your mouth again, harder.
You gasp against her lips, and she murmurs into the kiss, voice low and wrecked with satisfaction:
“Knew you’d come.”
Her other hand trails up your spine, fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of your dress.
“You always do.”
Her fingertips brush your lower back—then higher—until she gathers the hem of your dress in her fist, bunching it upward with slow, merciless purpose. You feel the cool air of the van interior graze your skin as more of you is exposed, inch by inch, until—
The dress is off.
She strips it from you in one unstoppable motion until you’re bare, the only thing on your body being a black thong, skin glowing in the low cabin light.
Ellie stares at your chest for exactly one heartbeat, her breathing gone uneven, before she leans in and closes her mouth around you.
The sensation punches a sound out of you—ragged, uncontrolled.
Her tongue traces along the swell of your breast, teasing first in barely-there strokes, before she sucks harder, lips closing around your nipple, pulling at you like she’s starving.
You arch into her, fingers digging into her shoulders.
“F-fuck—”
She hums against you, vibration hot and sinful.
You reach for her, shoving her leather jacket off her shoulders with impatient fingers. The jacket falls to the van floor in a heavy thud. Your hands roam under her shirt—over warm skin, along the defined ridges of her stomach—until you pull the shirt off entirely.
Her chest lays bare now, tattoos shifting with every breath, freckles scattered across her shoulders like constellations.
She looks you over and lifts her head from your chest just long enough to smirk.
“Impatient, much?”
You're flushed, breathing hard, eyes blown wide—but you bite back: “You talk too much.”
She laughs and flips you beneath her in one motion, pinning you against the van bench. Her thighs cage your hips. Her hands trap your wrists beside your head.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, leaning down to nip at your jaw, “you love when I talk.”
Your voice comes out thready, defiant: “Maybe I prefer when you shut up.”
She grins against your throat—then sinks her teeth there—eliciting another helpless sound from your lips.
“Make me.”
You twist a hand free, grab her neck, and pull her down to you. Now you’re kissing again—rough, uncoordinated, breathless—a collision rather than a kiss, heat and impatience and pure hunger.
Your legs slide open beneath her. Her hand cups your jaw and your other hand claws at her back. It’s messy, and desperate, and unbearably intimate.
Her thumb lingers at your bottom lip, and for a moment you both just… exist there—breathing the same shallow air, bodies nearly trembling into each other. Her eyes search yours with that dark intensity she never shows anyone else.
“Look at you,” she whispers. “You’re shaking.”
You scoff, trying for composure and failing. “You’re—”
“—the reason.” She finishes softly.
Her hands slide down your waist. She touches the place your thigh meets your hip, that vulnerable curve, and you shiver. Ellie spends a moment just feeling you, fingertips gliding like she’s mapping out a familiar coastline, one she’s memorized but still returns to in reverence.
Then she kisses down your throat. Your breath catches when she reaches your collarbone, when she pauses there, lips pressing in a way that feels like she’s marking you.
Outside the van, someone screams into the night — like a drunken mating call — followed by a wave of laughter.
But in here?
It’s just the two of you. Just breath. Just heat.
And when she finally sinks down onto her knees, your heart stumbles. She looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes dark and knowing.
“Missed this,” she murmurs.
You swallow hard. “Ellie—”
She doesn’t wait. Her hands slide up your thighs, thumbs brushing the tender inside skin near your center. Then she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your thong.
You gasp. She grins, feral and shyly pleased all at once, and pulls it down slowly, enjoying the suspense itself. When the thin fabric hits your ankles, she twirls it once around her finger, and just like that, tucks it into her back pocket.
“I’m keeping that.”
Before you can reply, she leans forward—and when her mouth meets you, thought dissolves.
Your world compresses into heat, pulse, and sensation. You gasp too loudly, startled by your own reaction, and her hands clamp onto your thighs with steady, certain pressure, keeping you anchored in your body when you feel yourself lurching out of it.
“Oh fuck…” The words tear out of you, shaky and raw.
She hums softly, and the vibration of her voice spreads through you in a wave, just as the cool bump of her tongue piercing sweeps across your clit. The contrast is unbearable—the cold metal, the soft heat of her mouth, the slick rhythm of her tongue working in precise strokes.
Your entire body jolts, breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a cry, back arching off the seat as your fingers convulse in the leather.
“Jesus— Fuck—”
She laughs under her breath, pleased with herself. The sound thrums through you, and her response is barely intelligible against your skin. “Thought you liked when I used it.”
You try to laugh back—try for wit, composure, something—but all that escapes is a desperate, broken release of breath. “Like isn’t—strong enough.”
There’s a ruthless steadiness to her now, a knowing precision in the way her tongue flicks in rapid, tight strokes against your clit, the piercing pressing and rubbing in maddening rhythm.
It feels practiced—not in experience with others, but in knowing you, your responses, your sounds. Every movement suggests memory: stored knowledge of what unravels you.
Your breathing begins to fall apart in stuttered pieces. Your thighs tremble and threaten to close, instinctive and overwhelmed, but Ellie keeps you wide open, hands strong and unmoving. She lifts her gaze, pupils blown wide, and there’s worship in it—not gentle or sweet, but reverent in a rough, obsessive way.
“Ellie—” Her name scrapes out of you like a plea.
She pulls back only an inch, just enough for you to feel the wet air chilling where her mouth had been moments before. Her voice is steady, coaxing.
“Shh. I’ve got you.” Her thumb rubs small, grounding circles at your hip.
Then she ruins you again. Slow at first—the piercing drags across your clit in a deliberate slide that forces a raw sound from your throat—then faster, focused, flicking with efficient cruelty, mouth sealed around you in a tight pull. It sends electricity skating up your spine until your vision sharpens, then blurs, then sharpens again.
You break on a gasp, involuntary and helpless.
Ellie moans against you, tasting the reaction, feeding on it. The sound is low and reverent. She pulls you deeper into her mouth, tongue pressing and circling in relentless patterns until your thighs are shaking uncontrollably, your hand flying down to grab her hair—not to push her away, but to keep her there.
She looks up at you again, face flushed, lips slick, breathing heavy against your skin. This time she doesn’t whisper. She demands:
“Look at me.”
You do.
You couldn’t look away if you tried.
You let out a choked scream, coming undone at the sight.
You’re still shaking when she rises up between your legs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips are stained with you, pupils unfocused, breathing uneven. You reach for her waist with restless urgency, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans. She stops breathing for a second, then nods once, almost imperceptibly.
You undo the button. Then the zipper.
Her jeans slide down her hips, revealing the faint line of muscle along her stomach and the edge of black boxer briefs. Your hands skim over the skin you uncover, tracing heat into her. She lets you. She wants you to. She steps out of the denim and the briefs follow, leaving her bared and flushed in the soft shadowed interior of the van.
Ellie climbs back onto you with a kind of urgency that is almost greedy. Your hands skate up her thighs and over her hips, holding her close. When your legs shift and press together, tangling into each other, there’s a sudden mutual gasp. Heat meeting heat. Contact that is both familiar and still devastating.
She grinds forward first, a surprised inhale slipping through her teeth. “Fuck… been thinking about this all night.”
You tighten your grip on her hips and answer with a broken breath. “Been thinking about it for longer than that.”
Her forehead drops to yours, noses brushing, breath mingling. You move together in slow rhythm that builds quickly, each motion adding to a rising pressure. She gasps your name, soft and strained, voice cracking just enough to show how undone she is.
Your legs lock tighter around hers, thighs trembling. Ellie’s hand slips up and behind your neck, holding you still while she moves with growing intensity. The friction becomes sharp, intoxicating, relentless. You can’t hear the music outside anymore, only the sound of both of you breathing too hard, too close, too desperate.
She mutters against your cheek, voice rough and reverent. “Every time… every single time… I forget how insane you feel.”
You bite down softly on her shoulder and she groans, nails digging into the seat beside your head. Movement turns sharper now, bodies sliding and tightening, the contact impossible to separate or slow.
Your voice catches. “Ellie… God—!”
She answers with a whispered growl of your name, the sound half-suffering and half-devotion. You feel her trembling beneath your hands as the rhythm tips toward breaking point. The whole van rocks with your movement, windows fogging, breaths coming in gasps you can’t swallow down.
And somewhere in the blur of heat and friction and shared breathing, it happens— that moment where sensation folds into surrender.
She presses her forehead harder to yours, eyes shut, voice falling apart into sound.
“Don’t stop—just keep—”
You match her, move with her, ride it out as everything sharpens, then softens, then goes incandescent.
You fall into it together, bodies clinging, muscles twitching, breath stolen.
When it ebbs, the two of you stay there—still pressed close, still shaking from aftershocks—her hand cupping the back of your neck, your fingers tangled in her hair, neither of you speaking.
The stillness after hits almost harder than the act itself.
Ellie’s breath slows against your cheek, her forehead still pressed to yours, skin warm and damp. Your fingers stay curled in her hair, hers linger at your neck, thumb stroking once, so gentle it almost hurts.
Silence.
Just the hum of the engine off, the soft rasp of fabric against skin, your heart trying to claw its way out of your chest.
You don’t move. Neither does she. You don’t want to.
Your mind drifts to her laugh, to the way she looks at you when no one else is watching, to every stolen kiss in parked cars, to every secret touch behind closed doors, to the way she said your name tonight like it meant something.
And you can't stop yourself from thinking: I could just tell her. Right now.
I could tell Scotty to fuck off. I could stop pretending. I could just look Ellie in the eye and say I think I’m in love with you.
You inhale, shaky, gathering the courage, the sentence forming.
“Ellie, I—”
SLAM.
The van door jerks open so hard the whole vehicle shudders.
Rachel and Dina tumble halfway inside, hands everywhere, mouths attached, mid-makeout, until Rachel's eyes dart up—
synopsis: you and ellie are head over heels in love with each other, only that you both are virgin losers so neither of you know what’s going on in bed.
tags: loser!ellie, loser!reader, awkward sex, oral (r! reading), slight suffocation kink, both of them are implied to be virgins, humping, tribbing, squirting wc: 1.0k words
“Ellie…” you giggled nervously when she pushed you down to lay down on the bed, flat against the mattress.
“Let me make you feel good, baby.” Ellie smirked softly, her lips curved in that little smirk that was more awkward than it was sexy— you didn’t mind. As long as she was comfortable.
Her fingers fumbled with the belt of your skirt before it finally came undone. You helped her strip yourself before watching her undress herself. The sight alone, although casual, was so fucking hot in ways you couldn’t really describe.
“Is this okay?” She asked, standing in the middle of your bedroom— butt naked— her pink nipples were pebbled from the cool air of the room, her hand nervously twisting with the fingers of her other one.
“Yeah, it’s perfect.” You breathed out, heavy and anticipating.
Ellie, without another word, knelt down between your legs by the foot of the bed. She grabbed your hips with both hands and without warning— she pulled you so your legs were dangling off the bed— pussy eye-level with her.
She grinned. “You’re so wet.”
“Ellieeeeeee!” You called out, embarrassed. “You’re so bold today…”
“Sorry—” Ellie looked up, “you’re just so pretty, I wanna worship you…”
“It’s okay, baby, I like it…”
That encouraged Ellie. She pulled your legs l wrapping them around her head before she buried her face in your pussy, her tongue licked over your clit, wrapping around the small nub before she pressed the wet muscle against the nerves.
Your body jerked from the suddenness, “Ellie, oh my God!” Your legs wrapped around her head tighter. “Sorry—” you loosened them, “you feel too good.”
“Please.” Ellie’s voice cracked, “do that again…”
You stared at her for a bit, “are you serious?”
“Mhm, very.” Ellie muttered softly before your legs came around her face, securing there— squeezing her head. Ellie went back to eating you out, her mouth working deflty on your pussy. She ran her tongue between your folds carefully before slowly pushing it inside your slit which was tight and untouched. Perhaps you hadn’t even ever masturbated before— the thought alone got Ellie wet and she humped her hand— hips sliding back and forth on her open palm as her tongue continued to service you.
She slurped— wet, messy, deliberate. “Fuck, baby, you taste so good. I want more. I want it all…” Ellie mumbled under her breath, her words barely audible but the bit that you did hear made your cheeks flushed crimson with need and desire.
Pleasure coursed through your entire body as your hips attempted to jerk up but you couldn’t because of the way your legs remained locked around Ellie’s head. Ellie’s little murmurs of how delicious your pussy was made it vibrate. Your eyes squeezed shut.
“Oh, Ellie, baby, baby— wait, I’m—”
You couldn’t finish your words before you finished all over her face.
She pulled away from your shaking, now fallen apart loose legs, her face drenched from you. She smiled, “I love it…” she whispered softly. “I want more.”
“Wait—” you propped yourself up with one elbow. “I think I wanna try something else with you. Is that—?”
“Yes, yes!” Ellie excitedly climbed onto the bed with you. You saw how damp her hand was.
“Were you—?”
Ellie’s eyes widened and cheeks flushed. “N… no…”
You grinned a little and beckoned her closer. You grabbed her long legs and positioned one of yours on top of one of hers. “This may seem a little complicated but I— uh— I think I know how this works.”
“O-oh, isn’t this how people scissor? I don’t think I know how…” Ellie looked where her pussy was inches away from your wetter one.
“I don’t either, baby. It’s fine. We’ll figure this out…” You laid back a little more, elbows on the pillow. You tossed one to her, “it’ll keep your arms from getting sore.”
Ellie nodded and placed it behind herself, propping herself up— she watched as you rolled your hips forward— soaked cunt rubbing against hers. She moaned softly, reaching down and spreading her lips so her throbbing clit could meet yours. Once they rubbed— you swore you saw white— you saw heaven. Your eyes closed, a blissful moan escaping you— one so high-pitched that Ellie looked at you with concern for a second, or maybe just shock.
“I like this…” she mumbled before she took the upper hand, grinding down with all her strength. You could see her flat abs flexing as she rubbed against you. “You look so beautiful, baby, oh my God. Yes— fuck, fuck!” She moaned softly, completely lost in the feeling of your pussy against her own.
She pressed a finger to your lips, “hush, baby, just moan for me. I know you like this too.”
“I do…” you bucked your hips against hers, brows furrowed from the intense sensations she was inflicting on you. “I’m— I’m close.”
Ellie’s clit twitched and she squirted everywhere— soaking you and herself. You gasped, “ah, God— fuck— Ellie!” You moaned her name as you came undone once again.
Ellie backed up, smiling as she watched your chest heave up and down heavily. “You okay, gorgeous?”
“Mhm,” you extended your arms.
Ellie picked you up, kissing your temple before she wrapped her arms around you. “I’m proud of you.”
“I am, too…” you mumbled, voice tired and faint.
Ellie kissed you again, peppering your face with more kisses before she laid down— sweaty bodies pressed up together, cuddling— “rest up, we can clean up when your legs work again.”
cw: popular!reader, mean!reader, ellie draws filthy drawing of reader, eating out (r! receiving), a bit of degradation if you squint, sub top!ellie
author's note: i wrote this a while ago, so if sucks pardon me
She's completely in love with you.
Actually she is completely obsessed with you, since day one. All started when you two had to pair up to a history assignment. At the beginning she didn't like you that much, you had this superior aura, didn't talk too much to people like you were too good to even look at them (or at her-). You acted like you owned the school hallways, and to be honest you kinda did.
She had built all these ideas about you, how you thought, acted and behaved. But that assignment day changed it all. You were a bit mean? Yes. But also really sweet and helpful on the search, you did your part and even helped her. Also kept a conversation with her, and she figured that you had a similar taste in music, you both liked radiohead and paramore. and also have watched jurassic park, but what came after you said that she honestly didn't expect.
“Yeah, I have watched Jurassic Park but it's not really my thing dinosaur movies y'know? I only watched because I had a huge fat crush on Katie McGrath some time ago” Ellie blinked twice after hearing ‘crush’ and ‘Katie McGrath’. She tried to assimilate and then the realization came… you liked girls? Yeah, you definitely did. And that fucked her really good because the while thing that she kept saying to herself that you were a show off and a prick were to hide her own huge fat crush on you.
Unfortunately that assignment wasn't too long, and soon was finished and so was the class. When the class bell rang, you got up and gathered all your things saying “see you around, williams.” Gave her a soft smile - that made her heart skip a beat - and walked away. From now on she knew that things wouldn't be easy for her…
The next following days were hell.. Every time that you two passed around each other, you would smile at her, wave at her and say a “hey!” and sometimes you would even compliment on her shirt - the first time you did she was wearing the shirt that Marceline gave to princess bubblegum. And of course she lost her shit, once again with the idea of you being into girls too.. First a crush on Katie McGrath and now you recognized the shirt? No way you could be straight, right?
And that makes her hopes go even higher since maybe, just maybe she could have a chance with you. A fever dream? Maybe. But she was delusional anyway. Her love (or obsession) for you only kept growing, now she thinks about you during class, admiring your silk curls… She thinks about you before bed, sometimes she stalks your Instagram account. You had the most aesthetic pictures ever, ‘she's so so so pretty…’ she would always think that when looking at your posts, or at you at school.
She loved you so much that she started writing poems about you, and at some point she started to draw you. You became her muse. And as the time passed her art started to get a bit bold… She was good at anatomy and she spent too much time with her eyes glued on your body, so… it was only natural to her to replicate that on paper, but most of the time you were without clothes and doing all kinds of sex positions with her. Hey! She was not a pervert... just was feeding her imagination, was giving life for her wet dreams. But it was fine because no one knew her dirty little secret and no one would ever find out. Or she thought so.
One day after P.E she was waiting for the locker room to get empty so she could shower alone and at peace. When the other girls left the room she went to clean herself up, but so did you since you hated when the locker room was crowded. She listened to someone get in and start showering at the stall next to her, but didn't bother her; it was just one person after all. When she finished and dressed in her sports bra and boxers, she got out of the stall and the first thing that met her eyes it's you in a black matching piece getting into your jeans.
You feel someone's presence and lift your head to see who it was. “Hey, Ellie!” You buttoned your jeans, smiling at her. And it was too much to her loser head, she just saw you in underwear and you smiled, bet that she was redder than a tomato. “H-hey..” Somehow she managed to reply, and avoiding looking at your body she walked to her locker, getting her clothes to dress up and get out of there as fast as possible. But of course she can't be subtle and do things quietly, and of course all her things fell on the floor: clothes, books, towel and her sketchbook. Yes, that one that no one could even think about the existence and yes it fell open right in a page where she had draw her fucking you in a bathroom stall. It was dirty, filthy. The expression that she had drew you making? Obscene.
At first when you saw her things falling all over the floor you thought ‘oh, she's so clumsy. it's kinda cute’ but when her sketchbook fell right in your feet with such a pornographic scene, you became shocked. You knelt to the ground, grabbing the sketchbook and looking through the pages. Which one was more dirty than the other one, in one of them you were sitting on a bed with her face shoved into your pussy and even had little words balloons written around like ‘pussy so good’. The next one she's was fucking you with a purple strap, with a little note ‘purple because is her favorite color ♡’. You were terrified for a minute but in the next one amused she was obsessed with you, and was a total freak.
“You did all these drawings?” You ask with your eyes flickering between the pages and her face. Ellie this whole time was frozen, couldn't move, couldn't speak; she wanted to grab that sketchbook and run away from that bathroom or from the country. She stutters something but you can't quite understand but sounds like a no. “No? Of course you did, you fucking perv.” You are calling her a pervert and she's expecting you to have the most disgusted expression on your face, but you were actually smirking and your eyes had a look that seemed like mischief. You stepped closer to her, and grabbed her chin. “You did this huh?” Ellie's cheeks got crimson red, burning like hell. But she managed to nod, she couldn't deny since you made her face you, look into your eyes.
“I… I-i did. I'm sorry.” She looks away from your eyes embarrassed and ashamed, now all she could think was that you hate her and think she's a pervert. You chuckle and that confuses her, she looks up seeing the amusement in your eyes. “You know Ellie… I always thought that inside of the big loser that you are, you were actually a freak. And I was so right, huh? You been having fantasies about fucking me in all aways possible, such a pervert…” Your hands are now grabbing her hair, pulling a bit tight her scalp. “You're a filthy girl aren't you?” Ellie almost moaned at that, the grip on her hair and you calling her filthy made her cunt throb hard. “I-im sorry! I didn't mean to do it! I'll burn the sketchbook! I'll do anything you want, just don't tell anyone about this please.” You did not release the grip on her hair, instead you pulled her even closer looking right in her eyes, and even if she wanted to avoid your gaze she couldn't. “You're sorry and will you do anything?” Ellie nodded fast, she was desperate. She was already seen by the whole school as a weird girl, if someone knew about this she would be a weirdo, a freak, a pervert. “You're lucky I'm nice, or the whole school would know about your dirty little secret. But you are still showing how sorry you are for those nasty drawings.” Ellie nodded again, she was a bit relieved that you wouldn't tell anyone, but that went away really quickly when you spoke again. “Get on your knees.” You said firm and demanding, not even leaving room for her to say something. She gets on your knees without saying a word, she looks up at you trying to read your expression but your face didn't tell her much. She closed her eyes, she was waiting for you to slap her for drawing those things and humiliate you like this.
She feels your hands on her hair again ‘she's going to punch me, isn't she?’ she asks herself in thought, but as you pull her closer her face hits a part of your body, she opens her eyes confused, then sees that what hit her face was your pussy, and she realizes that at some point while she had her eyes closed and feared for her life you took off your underwear. “You'll make me cum as a way to show how sorry you are, Ellie.” Once again you shoved her face onto your pussy, but this time she didn't waste any time. Her lips started sucking your clit almost immediately, her hands went to the back of your tights gripping the skin. A turmoil was happening in Ellie's mind, she was confused why this was happening but she wouldn't waste the chance. Her wildest dreams just came true, she had her lips on your cunt and her tongue flicking in all directions to please you, this was paradise. She looked at you while her tongue worked with passion, she was giving all that she had because she had to show that she was sorry and because this was addictive. You moaned beautifully because of her, because of what she was doing to you.
You would pull her hair tighter, not caring if it could hurt her scalp and bite your lower lip trying to contain your whiny moans. “Tell me, does my pussy taste as good as you imagined while drawing those things?” You looked down at her making eye contact, she nodded and then stated “It's even better, I couldn't even think in my very fertile imagination that your pussy tastes this good…” She quickly buried her face onto you again, she didn't want to be away from this warm and very wet place.
Her hands went a bit up, grabbing buttcheeks bringing you closer and holding you in place. But as the please was building in, your legs started to get weak and you stepped back to press your back against the cold metal of the lockers and Ellie whined in protest as if being away from your cunt was the worst thing you could do to her. She got her face pressed against your pussy again eating you out with hunger, a hunger that she would never satisfy. Ellie was whining against your clit because you started to grip her autumn locks even tighter and moan louder and more frequently, you were getting close and just the thought of you coming on her mouth was enough to make her cream on her pants. “Don't you even dare to stop.” She murmured something from down there but wasn't understandable because she didn't stop using her tongue on you. Your hips jerked against her mouth, you need just a bit more, just a few more precise flicks of tongue. Elile knew that, and used all the could to make you get there. And the pain on her face muscles was worth it when she heard you moaning her name while you squirted on her mouth, and of course she drank every single bit of it, she would be crazy of wasting a drop of your sweet cum.
You leaned the back of your head against the locker and closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath, the grip on the nerd's hair loosened but your hand stayed in place. She kept on her knees looking up at you, waiting for your next command. You took some minutes to get your breath steady then look at her. “You're definitely something, perv. Maybe discovering that nasty sketchbook of yours was one of the best things I did this year.”
Yeah?” Ellie asked, looking almost too happy at hearing that. You were complimenting her, right?
“Yeah. Now I have a freaky nerd on the palm of my hand, and she will do anything I want or I will open my mouth…” To be honest you wouldn't tell anyone about this. You always thought Ellie was cute, and knowing that she was obsessed with you and knew how to eat pussy like that was definitely a win. But she didn't need to know that. “Yes! I'll do anything you want.” She uttered, her fingers digging deep on your buttcheeks.
“Get up.” You demanded, and she obedient as always followed your command. Now she was standing in front of you, with big doe eyes looking at you.
You pulled her closer by her waist, and kissed her, you maybe have inverted the order of kiss then fuck but who cares? The taste of your pussy was still very strong on her lips, you savored the taste of it mixed with the taste of her lips. She kissed you in a desperate way, as if she was afraid of this never happening again, her hands went to your shoulders, her fingers digging the skin.
“Keep this thing a secret hm?” You said after pulling away from the kiss. Ellie murmured an ‘okay’, and looked away from you. “Good.”
After putting your clothes on, you grabbed the sketchbook that was long forgotten on the floor. “I'm taking this with me” You declared and shoved it in your bag. “See you around, perv.” With that you left the locker room, but also left Ellie that was too stunned to speak, now everything that happened was seeking in and she still couldn't believe it was real.
a one-shot about streamer!ellie falling for a random influencer who wants nothing to do with her (except she actually does).
content: streamer!ellie x influencer!reader, modern au, strangers to lovers, ellie's down bad, so is reader you’re just better at hiding it, twitch chat/discord sever/titkok comment antics (that were a bitch to write ngl), MDNI 18+, fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (e!receiving), there's like a splash of meta during the smut that made me giggle when deciding to include it, reader described as having a clit
word count: 5.6k
author's note: so this is where i reveal myself as having quite a bit of knowledge about streaming/gaming/chronic online-ness in general. also, does this count as loser!ellie? am i part of the gang?! anyways, i hope you enjoy!
twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: we're soooooo back 😤 !discord !drops
“alright, alright,” ellie muttered, dragging a hand down her face as she leaned toward her second monitor. “let’s do today’s discord submissions. i’ve been skipping out on them because you guys have been fucking weird lately, so... don’t make me regret this.”
her camera’s a little off-center—she obviously just rolled out of bed, the unmade sheets still visibly rumpled in the background, and her hair's clearly unbrushed beyond probably a haphazard comb through with her fingers.
ghostpeekr: !!!!!!!!
tryqt: BE NICE ELLIE
elliesdischarge: i just sent a pic of my cat meow for her rn
whiffytiffany: is she playing with chat members for fortnite tonight????
elliethrows4me: dude make your bed.
ellie sighed, already regretting everything. “i never make my bed, you guys know this by now” she grumbled, clicking into her discord anyway. the #stream-submissions channel lit up immediately. “alright. what are we working with today…”
she scrolled through hundreds of chats, stopping at the ones with the most reactions. first up was a photo of someone’s dog.
she squinted. “this is your… dog?” it’s a tiny, wet-looking chihuahua wrapped in a blanket like a human baby.
“that’s—okay, listen, i’m sure she’s very sweet. but she looks like kind of like a maggot? why the fuck are her eyes doing that.”
lootsluttt: LMFAOOOO
v4nitymirror: SHE’S MY BABY
ellieclips: you’re the maggot-looking one actually.
princessp3ach: UR GOING TO HELL
she kept scrolling.
“okay, next up—dinner pic. we’ve got noodles, veggies… chicken? that’s chicken, right?” she tilted her head. “yeah, okay. this looks gas. eight out of ten. presentation is questionable, but i’d eat it.”
nerfventure: W DINNER
flick_n_trick: it’s pad thai dumbass
ecam96: NOT U CALLING IT UGLY
NotElliesAlt: u’d eat anything tho
ellie glanced at chat and snorted. “okay, but i’m a growing girl, i’ve got a big appetite!”
elliesdischarge: i got something you can eat message deleted by a moderator.
dusty_diamond: RATE MY SETUP PLSSSS I JUST POSTED IT
sandydunez: okay so where’s the growing part tho?
next post. it was a tiktok.
she paused. “okay, wait. is this gonna get me banned like the last time?”
the video started playing anyway. one of those dramatic thirst edits. saweetie’s my type blasted in the background, and a slideshow began: a list titled in giant capital letters:
“THE HOTTEST WOMEN ON THE PLANET — RANKED.”
ellie raised a brow. “mmmkay. hot women, my specialty. let’s see who made the cut.”
#5 was some instagram model. she nodded approvingly. “valid…”
#4 was a streamer she knew—kind of annoying in real life. she wrinkled her nose. “mid. there’s better streamers out there, you know. ones that might be on your screen. like…right now. i dunno, just saying.”
#3 was that girl from a CW show that everyone insisted was underrated.
#2 was a picture of asami from nickolodeon’s the legend of korra.
she looked at the camera. “okay, but, like…deadass, why am i not on here? this one’s not even a real person?”
leilaniiii: GIRL BE FR
nonbinarybullets: 💀💀💀
elliesyumyum: ur like top 17 at best
tima0911: not everything is about you smelly.
she flipped off the camera, a grin tugging at her mouth. “you guys have no taste.”
and then—#1.
the music swelled. the tiktok cut to a clip of you.
it was casual, not even a thirst trap—just you in a tank top and sweats, talking to your chat, laughing at something off screen. it was one of those clips where someone was effortlessly attractive without trying, and ellie immediately leaned closer to her screen.
she blinked. “who even is that?”
whiffytiffany: NO WAY
mikuirl: THAT’S MOTHER
maybemaddie: HER @ IS pastaluvrrr
NotElliesAlt: ELLIE BE SERIOUS
ellie’s brows pulled together, genuinely confused. “i’ve literally never seen her in my life. also her user is literally pasta lover. i’m supposed to be impressed?”
usuallylurkin: L + RATIO + SHE'S HOTTER THAN U
ellieclips: ur username is smellie btw
paine_45: she's like famous famous
slaystation_: SHE’S SO GFFFF
she waved a dismissive hand and clicked off the video.
“never heard of her,” she muttered, already loading up fortnite. “anyways. queueing up squads. if you stream snipe and don’t let me win, you’re getting banned.”
it took approximately four hours.
four hours between ellie squinting at your face on stream and someone from her chat catching her lurking in your comment section.
the tiktok in question wasn’t even that serious. you’d filmed yourself in your bathroom mirror, hair half up, wearing one of those off-the-shoulder baggy t-shirts, mouthing along to some audio.
and right there, in the comments section, was ellie’s account:
@ smellie: “wait she’s kinda bad tho”
of course, one of her viewers immediately took a screenshot before ellie even had the chance to delete it. not that she would’ve. but still.
by midnight, the screenshot had already gone viral.
a photo post popped up on for you pages everywhere, featuring a zoomed-in screenshot of the comment with saweetie playing again in the background (naturally). the caption read:
“i think ellie figured out who she was.”
it had 70k likes within the hour.
and, of course—you reposted it.
the comments on the post immediately flooded with:
“OMG SHE REPOSTED”
“not ellie switching up so fast”
“ellie back up SHE’S MINE”
meanwhile, ellie’s discord exploded.
#general was moving so fast, the mods were genuinely worried:
smelly mod #7: sooooo @ smellie we saw the tiktok 😭
within minutes, ellie herself was typing.
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: GUYS chill out omg
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: you’re literally blowing my street cred
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: also there was NOTHING wrong with what i said. she’s fine asf. i was simply making an observation
naturally, no one let her breathe.
ashieee: street cred?????
wizard bupple: what streets u live in wyoming cuh
ellie's gf #real #actually: remember when u didn’t know or care who she was
ellie attempted damage control.
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: okay FIRST OF ALL, wyoming can get scrappy. i have plenty of cred.
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: and SECOND OF ALL. y’all clipped me out of context
smelly mod #2: you literally said “who even is that”
allyson.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱: in 4k babe. we got u in 4k
at some point, she just gave up.
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: i hate all of you
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: ok but if someone made very hot, sexy romantical edits of us tg i’d probably hate you a little less
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: #otp?! 🥺
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: new drop just landed. ur welcome 😎 tiktok.com/smellie
it was… a thirst trap.
or her version of one, which meant it was shot in her kitchen with bad lighting and camera half-tilted, lip-syncing to some dumb audio while wearing a backwards hat.
before her regulars could even start roasting her for it, someone had already forwarded the message from #announcements to #general with a reply:
pastalover: nobody’s watching ts 🤣
the server went feral.
laffey ʚɞ: HELLO????
marisol (she/they): EXCUSE ME???
ellie's shift key: you mean to tell me she has been here the whole time???
smellie #1 streamer and pro fortnite player: YOU’RE IN HERE??????
ellie immediately direct messaged you.
smellie: you’ve been lurking like a freak
smellie: you didn’t even say hi
smellie: and THAT’S what you break the silence with???
pastalover: be grateful i even watched it enough to know it was cringe
and then, a day later, you went live.
a rare event. your streams weren’t regular—more like when you were bored and felt cute. your overlay was minimal. just chat, a little corner cam, and non-copyrighted lofi in the background.
you were doing a get ready with me stream, mid-eyeliner, when you glanced over at chat and smirked.
"yes, i saw ellie’s most recent tiktok. yes, i wish i hadn’t.” you said, voice lazy with disinterest. “she’s, like, obsessed with me.”
topnoodle44: MY OLD MARRIED COUPLE 🥰
0ping: BE SERIOUS
ellieuseslightmode: ellie’s gonna faint
altaccnumber26: she’s in chat rn btw
iclutchforpastalover: she’s BEEN in chat
you paused.
“oh.” you looked at the camera with a raised brow. “she’s here? figures.”
ellie’s username popped up in chat two seconds later.
smellie: looking so good bestie 😳
smellie: drop the lip combo
smellie: or come here and kiss me so i can try it on
smellie: wait who said that-
you rolled your eyes. “i use a revlon lip liner in the shade mauve and then the elf lip oil in the shade jam session. not that these words would mean anything to you.”
smellie: blah blah blah. proper name, place name, backstory stuff.
you scoffed. “you’re unserious.”
mikuirl: just admit you kinda like her flirting
maybemaddie: WAIT I LOVE THE ELF LIP OILS WE’RE SO TWINNINGGGG
NotElliesAlt: ellie barely remembers chapstick LMAO
chousey203: i can’t tell if you curve her bc you hate her or bc you like her
“actually, i’m doing a public service. her ego needs balance.”
smellie: my ego’s doing fine. it’s my heart that’s in danger.
laughing, you leaned into the camera. “see? she’s like… weirdly committed to the bit.”
smellie: this isn’t a bit 🧍♂️
you stared at the chat, deadpan. “sooo, yeah. back to the tutorial. mods, can someone time ellie out for 300 seconds.”
smellie: WTF message deleted by a moderator.
the entire interaction was timestamped, clipped, and in about 15 different tiktoks within minutes.
twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: carrying @ pastaluvrrr in fortnite
“okay,” ellie said confidently, leaning so excitedly forward into her mic her voice came out slightly fuzzy and bass-boosted, “fortnite is all about communication. precision. teamwork. and—most importantly—aura. follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”
“don’t you literally die first in every match?” you replied, sipping your drink without looking at the screen.
ellie scoffed. “i—okay, first of all, that’s slander. second of all, my KD ratio is… hold on…”
there was a pause as she scrambled to look it up.
“…okay, next topic” she mumbled after a beat. “ready up for me.”
ecam96: girl she gagged u
elliesdischarge: ur trash but ur hot so it’s fine
jmattsz: you’re both gonna get clapped in 2 minutes
besosss: SHE SAID FOLLOW HER LEAD 😭
“wait,” you said as you readied up, “how do i do the little dance?”
ellie gasped. “oh my god. you don’t have any emotes.”
“i don’t play this game!”
“yeah, no kidding,” she muttered. “hold on. i’m gonna flex real quick.”
your screen suddenly showed her character cycling through a ridiculous line-up of skins—spider-man, ariana grande, peely in a tuxedo.
“i cannot believe you spend real life money on this shit,” you said flatly.
“hey! some of them are gifted, okay?”
“your chat literally hates you, babe. who is gifting you anything?”
“HEY.”
slaystation_: did i just hear "babe" 👀👀👀
macetotheface: she’s negging her ON STREAM
ellieclips: ellie FIGHT BACK.
the game loaded in and she yelled at you to thank the bus driver like you had any idea how to do that or what she even meant. she picked some obscure landing spot and said “trust me” like she hadn’t already proven herself deeply untrustworthy.
you landed. broke open a chest. got a shotgun.
then immediately got shot in the back.
“oh my god,” you groaned. “ellie. help.”
ellie was halfway across the town, looting.
“you’re downed already?! hang on, hang on,” she said. “i’m coming. hey, don’t crawl away—wait.”
her character—bruno mars, she’d finally settled on—stood over you uselessly as the timer for the revive slowly ticked down.
“what are you waiting for, get me!”
“say please.”
“the fuck?”
“say 'pretty please with a cherry on top my most gracious streamer and fortnite carry god, ellie.'”
a beat.
you rolled your eyes, then smirked at the camera, clearing your throat and lilting breathily into your mic, “puhleeease, ellie?”
ellie stopped moving entirely, the tips of her ears going red in her grainy facecam. her character continued to stand there, unmoving.
“hello?” you prompted. “ellie?”
“sorry,” she said quickly, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “uhhhh.. got distracted by something.”
v4nitymirror: KEEP IT TOGETHER.
looten_scooten: ellie.exe has stopped working
elliethrows4me: she’s in love ur honor
she revived you with shaking hands and zero cover, getting absolutely lit up right after by a sniper.
“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME SAY THAT IF YOU WERE JUST GONNA DIE?”
“i panicked!!”
you cackled as the enemy finished her off, her reboot card popping up with all her loot (a grey pistol and a fishing pole).
and then—something strange happened.
as you ran to hide behind a tree, fully expecting to die immediately, two other players—clearly stream snipers—ran up to you. instead of killing you, they dropped guns. medkits. ammo. one of them started building a small base around your body like a protective little guard dog.
“ummm,” you said slowly, “are these… fans? what’s happening here”
“what the hell?” ellie said from the death screen. “they literally murdered me and are now… escorting you?”
one of the players' characters emoted and blew a kiss to you.
you laughed so hard you snorted a little. “babe. i think i have a fan club.”
“this is fuckin’ rigged,” ellie muttered. “i die first and you get princess treatment?”
you turned your character in a circle, doing a default dance in return for their affection.
“okay,” she said, “they’re banned. all of them. from chat. for life.”
boostedbytenshi: THEY’RE PROTECTING HER 😭😭😭
ayayayaim: reveal yourselves in chat this is too funny
elliebutinallcaps: jealous!ellie i fear
sandydunez: actual carrying. ellie could never.
you made it to the top five before your guards were finally overwhelmed and killed. you screamed as you got sniped out of a bush.
“so close,” you groaned, slumping back in your chair.
ellie sounded smug. “see? told you you needed me.”
you raised a brow. “i outlived you by, like, eight minutes.”
ellie’s kitchen wasn’t exactly equipped for a baking stream. one of the cameras was actually just her laptop with a built-in cam propped up on a couple of books, the $19.99 two-pack of cheap amazon microphones left much to be desired, and someone—ellie—had forgotten to actually buy half the ingredients before you flew in.
nevertheless, the chat was buzzing at the concept of seeing you and ellie actually interacting together, in-person.
“okay,” ellie said, clapping flour-covered hands together despite the recipe not even calling for flour, “welcome to my kitchen. today we’re making… brownies.”
“from a box,” you added.
“from the heart,” she corrected, nudging your hip with hers.
NotElliesAlt: “brownies” is code for sesbian lex isn’t it
usuallylurkin: HELLO? THAT HIP BUMP
elliesyumyum: when are y’all just gonna make out
you glanced at the recipe on the back of the box and back at the counter.
“you didn’t preheat the oven.”
“i—” ellie looked down. “i forgot.”
“ellie.”
“i got distracted.”
“by what?”
she looked at you. you stared back.
chat was going a mile a minute despite being on slow-mode.
“riiiiight,” you said slowly, turning to grab a mixing bowl like your pulse wasn’t suddenly doing backflips. “anyways. dry ingredients.”
ellie poured in the bagged mix way too fast, a cloud of dust puffing out from the bowl making you both cough.
"careful, ellie."
she laughed, leaning in to read chat, her face taking up half of the camera.
"holy jumpscare, could you get any closer?"
ellieuseslightmode: back up WE'RE SCARED
topnoodle44: where are her sweats from theyre so cute :00
elliethrows4me: can we start a prediction on whether or not they'll burn the brownies
she just laughed, her eyes continuing to skim through the messages. "where are the sweats from?" she leaned back, moving to tug on the waistband of the pants you were wearing, "these are actually from my highschool, funny enough."
you pressed your lips together in a thin line, giving her a look. you hadn't exactly planned on letting chat know you were wearing her clothes and they were about to have a field day with the information.
there was a pause. then she cleared her throat, turned back to the camera, and grinned, "and my shorts are from nike!"
"alright. moving on. can we actually bake now?" you opened a cabinet, scanned it. “where are the chocolate chips?”
“should be in the pantry.”
you walked over and gave the pantry a brief glance-over. not there. “can’t find it.”
“lemme help,” ellie said.
she followed you off-camera, into the pantry.
which would’ve been fine.
except you were really close in there. the shelves were shallow, the door was half-closed, and neither of you had thought to flip the switch outside that turned the lightbulb on.
“what are we looking for again?” she asked, a rustle of plastic punctuating her words.
“chocolate chips. i literally said that ten seconds ago.”
you glanced up as she pushed further into the pantry beside you, her shoulder bumping yours. she didn’t move.
“you found them yet?” she asked, not really looking at the shelves anymore.
“no,” you said, quieter than you meant to.
she turned her head. now she was looking at you.
you swallowed. “getting distracted again?”
her lips quirked into a small smile. “yeah.”
you nodded. "me too."
and then she kissed you.
it was sudden—soft and unsurprisingly clumsy, her hand brushing your waist as her other arm bumped into the baking powder and nearly knocked it off the shelf. your back hit the wall with a dull thud as she licked into your mouth.
and your clipped-on microphones were definitely still recording everything.
NotElliesAlt: HELLO???
tima0911: WHAT AM I HEARING RN
tryqt: LIPS. ARE. SMACKING.
elliesdischarge: holy makeout
elliebutinallcaps: THE MICS ARE ON YOU IDIOTS
when you came back into frame, cheeks flushed and mouth definitely more swollen than it had been before, ellie trailed behind you with the chocolate chips in hand and the cockiest little smirk on her face.
you avoided eye contact with the camera.
“soooooo,” you said, voice slightly higher than usual, “we found them!”
“yep,” ellie said casually, “took some digging. but we got there.”
v4nitymirror: TOOK SOME DIGGING IS CRAZY
jmattsz: i can't believe i said i'd gift 20 subs when they finally hooked up and it actually happened on stream.
you coughed. “oven’s ready.”
you leaned over the sink, dabbing at the last of your eyeliner smudge with a cotton round. your reflection stared back—cheeks still hot, lips a little too swollen.
behind you, ellie was half-sprawled across the bed, scrolling idly on her phone.
“you always take this long to wash your face?” her voice was soft. teasing, but not unkind.
you met her eyes in the mirror. “yes. i've made multiple tiktoks about my routine. and i know you've watched all of them.”
she laughed and didn’t deny it. just rolled over onto her back, one arm slung behind her head. “will you do some skincare on me?"
you flicked the faucet off and reached for a towel. “what am i, your servant?"
“you’re sleeping in my bed,” she pointed out, lazily. "you ought to be nice to me."
you turned, towel pressed to your chin. “you invited me.”
“i did,” she agreed. the look she gave you was unmistakable—open, fond, a little reverent.
you padded over and tossed the towel onto your overnight bag. the air between you crackled. ellie’s gaze tracked you the entire way.
she scooted over. you climbed in beside her.
there was a pause. your shoulder brushed hers. then, her fingers found your wrist under the covers, a gentle tap like a question.
you turned to face her. “you gonna be annoying if i kiss you again?”
her smile was slow and stupid and something close to relieved. “probably.”
you kissed her anyway.
this one lasted longer. and the next, even longer. not rushed, not frantic—just deliberate. exploratory. like neither of you were in a hurry now that the door had been opened.
her hand found your thigh. your knee nudged between hers.
she pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against yours. voice low, barely more than a breath: “i really like you.”
you blinked. something in your chest cracked open.
“yeah?” you whispered.
she nodded, eyes searching yours. “yeah. like… not just for streams or clips or whatever. i mean it.”
you smiled, soft and crooked. “good,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. then to her jaw. “'cause i kinda really like you too," you muttered, continuing to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
she let herself sink back into the pillows as you shifted to straddle her, hands coming up to rest on your waist. "t-that's.... that's good. perfect. ideal, honestlaaah fuck—" the grip she had on your hipbones grew tighter as you sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone.
"you've got such a way with words, smellie."
"fuck off," she breathed out. "don't bring up stream shit when you're in bed with me."
"whatcha gonna do about it?"
she grunted, sliding one of her hands in between both of you to wiggle it underneath your sleep shorts. you gasped, feeling her fingers press up against the wet cotton of your underwear. "that. i'm gonna do that."
you reached down to grip her wrist and re-direct her hand so she was actually touching you beneath the fabric, "well, do a little more."
she groaned, her fingers sliding through the slick that met her there. "fuuuck, that's hot. guiding my hands 'n shit."
you huffed out a laugh that melded into a moan as her fingers fell into a quick pace, tight circles on your clit. "why are you— oh shit justlikethatyeah.." you gulped in a breath before continuing, "why are you fuckin' narrating our hookup right now?"
the angle was a little awkward and she could feel something in her wrist clicking with every swirl of her fingers but she would rather keel over and croak than stop right now.
the pain was irrelevant. especially when you were sitting up slightly to slide your t-shirt up and off and grab desperately at your own tits, manicured thumbs flicking nipples gone taut from the sudden temperature change.
and when you whined out a "fuuuck, ellie!" all tight and wiry and even better than she'd imagined on countless nights alone in that same bed with her hands shoved beneath her boxers, she couldn't help but nuzzle her head clumsily at your chest, nudging your hand away from your right breast with her forehead so she could replace your tugging fingers with her mouth.
your hips jerked forward and the now-free hand latched onto her shoulder for balance as you cried out, her lips pulling and teeth nicking just slightly before she soothed the peak with soft laps of her tongue.
"you like 'em played with, huh?" you could feel the vibration of her mumbling against the flesh of your boob.
"stop fucking talking, ellie. this is sex, not one of those slutty fanfictions people have been writing about us." you punctuated your words with fast firm rolls of your hips, now grinding your puffy clit into her palm as she fucked two long fingers steadily into you.
"yeah, well there's gonna be a whole lot more of those after that little stunt we pulled on stream earlier."
"i thought you said no stream talk in bed— ohhh, oh god. shit— fuck, 'm close."
"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" she was panting, damp puffs of air against your nipple interrupted occasionally by a haphazard suck or nibble. her wrist—aching by now—swiveled as her began to curl her fingers inside of you with purpose, the heel of her hand rubbing firmly against you.
"keep goin'— fuck keep talkin' to me. please don't stop."
"thought you wanted me to shut up? thought you said this wasn't some smutty one-shot, huh?"
the hand gripping her shoulder slid around to the base of her neck. you grabbed purchase on the short hairs there, tugging as she whimpered into you. "ellie if you don't talk me through it right now i sweartogod—"
"alright, alright! i gotcha, baby. cum for me. thaaaaat's it."
a loud moan punched out of you. “shit—fuck— 'm cumming.” your other palm left your own chest to clasp over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your sounds and she quickly moved the hand that was urging your twitching hips to grab your wrist and pull it away.
"hey, none of that. talking is encouraged now, remember?
"shut up." you gritted out through a groan, your hips jerking as your teeth caught on your bottom lip.
"alright, nevermind. not encouraged. copy that."
you tugged on her hair again to mash your lips together, effectively silencing her and sagging bonelessly against her as you came down from your high.
when the both of you finally parted, you looked down to see her mouth slack, head tilted back, and eyes so hazy you'd think she was the one who just came.
she blinked blearily up at you. "you're even bossier in bed than you are regularly. it's so sexy."
"if i hadn't told you to shut up so many times already, i would say it again."
she laughed out loud at that and you couldn't help but giggle back.
"how about i shut you up instead, yeah? put that mouth to work?"
you learned very quickly that she tended to be kind of squirmy when she was on the receiving end. it was as if she was unable to sit still in the onslaught of pleasure. honestly, it modeled how she was normally, always kind of twitchy and buzzing with energy.
you knew on future nights, you were going to revel in the experience of holding her down, pinning bucking hips to the mattress or firming your grasp on shaking thighs to keep them spread apart.
tonight, instead, you basked in the push and pull, chasing her with your mouth when she wriggled away and groaning in pleasure when she tugged you closer by your hair.
and when you slipped into a particularly good rhythm, hollowing your cheeks with every perfect pull of her clit into your mouth and lashing your tongue at the swollen nub, her hands scrambled to find purchase on something. anything. your sex-mussed hair, unraveled from the neat up-do you had put it in to prepare for bed. your bare, sweat-damp shoulders. and, finally, the perpetually messy sheets below her.
her left leg kicked out and she dug her heel into the mattress for leverage to thrust her hips up and up and up into you, her lower half rising so high you had to pull her by her bony hipbones back down so you could maintain the suction.
"fuuuh– ah, shit. i think i'm gonna—" she was propped up on her elbows now, fluttering eyes focused on you with a desperate gleam to them.
you worked her over with your mouth earnestly, keeping steady eye contact as she lifted a trembling hand, moving as if she was going to pull your head closer, bury your face even deeper in her.
but then those same eyes rolled back into her skull as she flopped back down, the hand falling to grip the sheets once again.
"fuck'mgonnacumbaby" she garbled out and the sight of her chest arching up made her tits look so pretty under her thin white tank top, you wished you had a free hand to reach up and tweak a nipple.
she let out a high-pitched, whispery whine that petered out into silence.
for a couple seconds, all that could be heard was the slurps as you lapped at her, and the hum of the fans from her pc in the corner of her room.
and then—
muffled groans as the strength of her closing thighs finally broke the grip you had on them and pressed against your ears. she wasn't good at staying still, but, apparently, she was even worse when she came, her body folding in on itself as she jerkily fucked her hips up into the heat of your mouth.
you let her fuck your face, your blunt nails dragging red lines down the sides of her thighs. the slight sting of pain grounded her, helping her ride out the waves and stopping her from getting too overwhelmed in the throes of an orgasm.
pulling your head back slightly, you alternated between soft, sticky kisses to her inner thighs and kitten licks at her entrance, cleaning her up and soothing her at the same time as she caught her breath.
"fuck. c'mere."
trembling hands cupped your face as she weakly tugged you toward her. you let her, shifting to settle into her side and throw a leg over her own. she sighed, wrapping her arm around you, pulling you even closer.
"whaaat?" she whined, craning her neck to glare when she felt you giggle. "why’re you laughin' at me?"
"because i know you’re about to try and convince me to go to sleep without washing my face again. and you know i can’t do that."
she didn’t answer — just flopped her head back on the pillow and shut her eyes tight, fake snoring loudly.
"ellie," you warned.
"can't talk. too busy snoozin'."
"my face is a mess, ellie. my hair too.”
"yeah, well. maybe you should've thought about this before you made me cum so hard i couldn't breathe. i absolutely can not move now, let alone clean up!"
you sighed, pushing yourself up off the bed — or trying to. the arm she had wrapped around you tightened in protest.
“ellie, seriously.”
“you can’t move either! i want you to stay. please? pretty please with a cherry on top my most gracious streamer and fortnite carry god?”
you shot her a glare and she grinned, clearly sensing how flimsy your resolve was.
“just five more minutes. then we’ll get up. wash our faces, brush our teeth. hell, i’ll even floss for you tonight, baby. bought those little sticks you’re always ranting about in those hygiene haul videos and everything.”
you huffed. wiped the back of your hand across the bottom half of your face like it would do anything. huffed again.
“fine. but seriously. five minutes. then we’re going.”
you woke up the next morning with a sticky face, ellie drooling on your collarbone, and your phone nearly buzzing off the nightstand from the amount of notifications you'd received post-stream.
twitch.tv/smellie — LIVE: eating victory crowns for breakfast 🥱
she was streaming fortnite the next morning, acting like nothing had happened. hoodie up, drawstrings pulled tighter than usual to ensure the hickeys you’d sucked into her skin the night before were thoroughly hidden.
she was focused—well, pretending to be—talking about the latest installment of some comic she was obsessed with while looting in-game and ignoring the onslaught of questions in chat.
elliebutinallcaps: WHERE IS SHE??
NotElliesAlt: so you’re avoiding the MASSIVE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM?
elliesdischarge: she’s kneeling under the desk, be honest message deleted by moderator
macetotheface: she’s prob busy making breakfast in ur hoodie
altaccnumber29: blink twice if ur post-nut right now message deleted by moderator
“okay, so—” she was mid-rant when she paused, squinting at the chat. “jesus. y’all are crazy today. can we just play the game?”
messages were flying so fast her eyes couldn’t keep up:
ellieuseslightmode: BRING HER BACKKKKKK
ellieclips: we literally heard the makeout. you cannot gaslight us.
v4nitymirror: wait did she leave?? is she even still there 😭
maybemaddie: GUYS WHAT IF THEY FOUGHT AFTER. what if it was a drunk kiss and now it’s awkward.
she was sorting through her load-out after an intense fight she nearly lost against a surfer jonesy when it happened:
pastaluvrrr: hiiiii girlfriend 😽
she froze.
the click of her mouse stopped mid-action. the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to react, but the flush across her face betrayed her instantly.
“oh my god,” she mumbled, shrinking into her hoodie. “why are you like this.”
chat, consequently, blew the fuck up.
elliesyumyum: GIRLFRIEND????? GIRLFRIEND.
tima0911: please say this vod will be on youtube. PLEASE.
elliethrows4me: NOOOOO SHE TOOK MY BITCH
tryqt: not the hard launch via twitch chat LMAOOOO
ayayayaim: SOMEONE CLIP THIS
ellieclips: OH MY FUCKING GOD???
ellie tilted back in her chair, red spreading all the way down her neck. “i dunno why she’s lurking in chat when she’s literally downstairs,” she muttered, trying (and failing) to sound unbothered.
on cue, soft footsteps padded into the room. then came your voice, faint off-screen:
“i was making a matcha.”
the camera unfocused and refocused as you leaned into frame and planted a wet kiss on her mouth.
no warning. just one hand on her shoulder, the other still holding your drink. it was passionate, unashamed, and unnecessarily long.
“does that answer everyone’s questions?” you asked, eyebrow raised.
ellie blinked at you, dazed. then turned to chat—
only to see her character had died while she was busy making out with you.
“awesome,” she mumbled, cheeks ruddy. “you got me killed. hope you’re proud of yourself.”
jmattsz: holy tomato face
mikuirl: THEYRE SO GROSS I LOVE THEM
looten_scooten: i just took so many screenshots im out of storage
iclutchforpastalover: MAMA Y PAPA
you breezed out of frame again like nothing had even happened. ellie cleared her throat. “okay. uhhhh, alright... so!”
chousey203: any day now….
elliebutinallcaps: SPIT IT OUT GIRL
ecam96: 100% just creamed her pants message deleted by a moderator
slaystation_: DUDE UR SO RED
“mods please,” she begged, hiding her face in her hands. “put chat in emote only. i’m not doing this.”
synopsis: things get heated during an argument with your band mate…
warnings: smut, 18+, ellie’s kinda mean :( (but also hot, so…)
“what the hell?” you turned back sharply, shooting ellie an irritated look over your shoulder.
“why do you keep messing up on this part?” ellie looked up from her guitar, annoyance shown clear on her face as she rolled her eyes.
the exhaustion of repeating the bridge of the song for the last hour had finally gotten to you. you were already fed up, but ellie's nonchalant reaction finally sent you off the edge.
angrily, you turned to fully face her, mic gripped tightly in your white-knuckled fist. “i'm gonna strain my fucking throat if i have to keep doing those high notes again! what about this is so hard?”
ellie always had a response for whatever insult or complaint you shot at her. this time was no exception.
“what about this is hard? having to listen to your goddamn screeching without clawing my ears out is hard.”
you scoffed incredulously. “screeching? my screeching won us five grammys you asshole!”
now it was ellie's turn to scoff.
“you think your voice is what got us those wins? unbelievable.”
you opened your mouth, just about to fire out another scalding retort when dina interrupted from the back of the room. “let's not do this right now, ok?” she said, voice tired and disarming, exhaustion clear on her face as she set down her bass.
you watched as jesse got up from his seat, face equally as tired, as he set his drumsticks down. “we can just continue tomorrow.” he agreed.
you looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “don't we need this done by the end of the week?—“
“we have time.” jesse said, voice authoritative and full of finality.
ellie just shrugged as jesse left the room, dina following close behind him.
you sighed, fastening your mic back on the stand before turning back to ellie.
“what’s up, williams?” you asked provokingly, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “what about that chord switch you’ve done a million times before is suddenly so hard?”
she glared back, the muscles on her arms flexing as she lifted the guitar off around her neck. “you sure talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t do her job.” she fired back.
“how the fuck’s your voice even getting tired after a few riffs on notes in your range?”
she was unbelievable. “most people would have blood streaming out of their throats if they had to sing those notes as many times as you’d messed up!”
“yeah, and you don’t, don’t you princess? cause you’re soooo special.”
you stepped closer, face beginning to heat up. “at least i do something. you just stand in a corner high as fuck while you strum your goddamn guitar, waiting for flocks of fan girls to tell you how much they wanna fuck you.”
that seemed to really get on her nerves.
ellie strode towards you, fully fired up. “the fuck is your problem? why d’you always come for me, and only me?”
you just glared at her in response, fists balled at your sides, refusing to back down, desperately trying not to pull away with ellie’s face a hair’s breadth away from yours.
“what?” she whispered tauntingly, voice venom-laced as her breath fanned against your cheek. “you have a crush on me or something?”
that caught you off guard. you weren’t ready and it was about cost you.
you’d recovered after a few moments, but it was too late. you’d stared too long, face guilty, eyes telling ellie everything you wished they wouldn’t.
“oh. my. god.” she scoffed, corners of her mouth drawing upwards as she stared at you in disbelief. you’d never wanted to wipe a smirk off her face as much as you wanted to right now.
“are you being fucking serious right now?”
you stared straight back at her, heat of embarrassment flowing to your head, rendering you unable to think.
“fuck off.” you spat, hoping the bitterness in your voice was convincing enough to distract from the internal shame you felt, finally caught.
she just looked at you, face both smug and incredulous at her new discovery, gaze so intense you struggled to keep it.
you cringed as your eyes involuntarily flickered to her lips. crap.
ellie just chuckled under her breath, low and quiet. “you want a kiss, baby?”
you froze. the unexpected pet name only further turning your brain into mush.
“i think you actually fucking do.”
she watched you, eyes slowly raking down your body before snapping back up to meet your gaze, lingering on your lips on the way.
“you want this?” she whispered, leaning in a little closer so that she was just out of reach.
it was all you could do to stare back in silence, exhaling shakily as you let your eyes fall on her lips, having completely given up on trying not to.
you leaned forward involuntarily, lips just nearly brushing hers before she swiftly pulled away.
“ah-ah,” she tsked, smug smirk strewn across her face, “i need to hear you say it.” she whispered lowly, the type of voice fans would scream over in concert.
you felt ellie’s hands ghosting over your arms, painfully hovering over your skin, as a whimper escaped your lips.
“c'mon,” she encouraged at your silence. “use your words, babe.”
you swallowed nervously, throat dry and head hazy at the surreality of the situation, as you forced out a reply.
“i want this-you.” you corrected, “i want you.”
“yeah?” ellie asked, teasing tone fading from her voice, replaced by something hungry, something more genuine. “so do i.”
your mind went blank the second ellie’s lips finally met yours. what did she just say? her hands held your face on both sides, firmly pressing her lips onto yours.
almost immediately, your hands wandered to her arms, her neck, her hair, desperately looking for something to hold onto, to ground you as you lost yourself in her.
you moaned into her mouth, allowing an opening for her tongue to slip in.
she worked your mouth as she walked you backwards, your gasps and moans lost between your lips.
your back hit the cushioned wall with a soft thud as ellie pushed you up against it, body pressing against yours, desperate for contact.
you were mid-moan when she pulled away from your face, slowly taking you in; needy eyes, swollen lips, the picture of desperation.
she smiled to herself, shaking her head at the ground. “look at you.”
you felt her run her arms slide up and down on either side of your waist. “you sure about this?”
were you sure about this?
did you need oxygen to breathe?
“ellie, are you stupid?” you asked pointedly, voice only slightly breathless, the feeling of a retort familiar on your lips.
you watched as she quickly let go of your waist, arms raised just above her shoulders in disarm.
“els, please.” you whined, the want for her touch much too strong to keep you defiant.
you sighed as you felt the warmth of her hands on your waist once more. a chuckle left ellie’s lips. “that’s more like it.”
you moaned as ellie began kissing down your neck, tilting your head back against the wall to allow her more access. “mmh-fuck.”
you let her take your wrists in one hand, lifting them above your head and pinning them against the wall.
her knee slot between your thighs, pleasure shooting through you at the friction your cunt had been craving since you started fighting.
“is this why you were such a bitch to me? to get my attention?” she mumbled against your collarbone, breath hot against your skin, as you whined in response, hips involuntarily rolling against her knee.
“this why you kept giving me shit for all the girls i ‘take home’? huh? you just wished you were one of them, didn’t you?”
you probably would’ve stormed out of the room if she’d said that any other time, but right now? as she was fucking you up against the wall? you wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.
ellie moved back up your neck, leaving a trail of wet licks and kisses on her way, before returning to your lips. “fuck, you’re so hot.”
you arched against the wall, hips grinding down on her as she continued pressing up against you. you felt her move to the side of your face, lips brushing the soft cartilage of your ear.
“you been waiting for this, huh?”
she kissed along your jaw, “you wanna, fuck, know the real reason i kept messing up that riff?”
what the hell was she talking about? and now? “ellie-wha-? hah-!”
“your voice gets real fucking breathy at high c.” she groaned against your skin, lips dragging down your jawline, “you sound like such a slut.”
ellie’s lips reached on your neck, sucking a spot that caused a high-pitched moan to escape your lips.
“yeah, just like that.”
you felt the knot in your stomach tighten as your hips began moving faster, grinding down hard as ellie pressed up into you, hitting your clit just right.
“fuck, els—i-hah-!” you babbled, face fucked-out. as you completely lost yourself in pleasure.
“yeah, baby?” ellie panted against your skin. “you gonna cum?”
it was all you could do to moan in reply, suddenly thankful for the soundproof padding along the walls of the studio, as filthy praises fell from ellie’s lips.
“cum for me, baby. come on.”
“lemme hear you.”
“hngh-! ellie-i-ah-fuck!” your orgasm rippled through you, leaving you arching against the wall, eyes rolling back in ecstasy, as ellie fucked up into you, working you through your high.
your body stuttered and slowed as you came down, ellie letting go of your wrists as she caught you in her arms, limp body falling forward as your legs gave out.
she helped you up, holding your sides for support. “you okay?” she asked breathlessly, reveling a little of the state of you.
“i-mm-fuck, yeah.” you managed to reply, mind only beginning to clear from the intoxicating haze. “i should’ve done that sooner.”
you didn’t catch the little smile playing on ellie’s lips. “yeah?”
her arms rubbed your sides affectionately as your eyes slowly met hers. “well, we could always do it again.”
she nearly laughed at the way your eyes lit up at her suggestion. adorable.
you chuckled, a mischievous smirk spreading across your face. “what, you wanna hear me hit high c again?”
you watched as she rolled her eyes, not missing the light blush that began creeping up her face at your tease.
“c’mon,” she said, taking your wrist as she led you out the door. “let’s get to bed.”
summary | ellie is the most famous drug dealer on your university campus. you always go to her when you most need to clear your mind. however, you'd never think you'd be the one who ended up as a bargaining chip that night.
warnings: nsfw, top!ellie x sub!reader, a little plot before porn, also public porn and public dynamic, not outbreak oneshot, dirty talk, cursing, drug mention, r! using drugs mention, fingering r! receiving, r! kinda offering in exchange— consensual, no aftercare. MDNI.
wc: 3.1k
it doesn't happen very often. or not that often. at least not to you.
your final exams on the campus overlap with those of other departments. it's a tension that runs through all the university, and you can see students like you acting like zombies during the weeks they happen. some make it, then go off to their summer with plenty of free time and all their subjects completed and passed. others don't, and need external help. whatever that outside help is called.
you are like that second choice for students.
that night, you were lying in your dorm, thankfully alone. you shared a room with two other girls in the building C. but naturally, it was friday night, the last day of semester exams, and unlike your roommates—who had all passed—you hadn't. your mind was spinning with cobwebs, guilt, self-loathing, and disappointment, clearly of yourself.
you didn't want that to be your first resort, but you needed to turn off your mind. it was necessary, at least at that moment, you knew your business.
you quickly grabbed your phone, a nokia with trinkets and keychains on its antenna. it had taken you a whole summer to work for it. it was pink. it was worth it. you lowered your thumb over the wide key until you found ellie's contact.
ellie.
everyone knew ellie for her... special services. and it was simple: you got her personal cell phone number, or she happened to like you enough to you approach her and personally ask for whatever you needed. for ellie, it was her main source of income at university. it was an open secret—not so much—but it was her mainly source to get her morning lunch every day at the cafeteria and buy herself some bazaar clothes. more or less. but she wouldn't dare to say that out loud. she's too proud of her 'work'.
so with your finger on the key, you didn't think much and called her.
one, two, three tones...
it was ellie's response almost immediately. you both agreed on two joints for twenty bucks. you grabbed your dorm keys, a red sweatshirt with the typical university logo on it, and didn't even care to pay attention to the casual shorts you decided to leave your room in. it was your pijama but you were desperate for the feeling that would make you sleep well that night.
you cursed as soon as you set foot on the campus sidewalk. the wind blew cold and fast, your hair tangled around your neck, and you decided to pull the hood of your hoodie over it. you felt a little ridiculous, but your steps continued until you reached the darker side of the buildings. it was the benches on one side of the football field. nine o'clock at night, and you felt your teeth chatter when you glimpsed ellie in the distance.
like you, she was wearing a sweatshirt, but it was black, open so her worn, white t-shirt could be seen, stuck to her torso like oil.
in that moment you thought that if you were more delusional, you'd have wanted to find out for a long time ago if it was true that ellie had earned that gym body with the university student benefits card. and c'mon, everyone underestimated her for not being as social and involved—but to be honest, you found yourself staring at her for longer than you'd like to admit.
"didn't know it was summer."
ellie's voice broke the silence when she stood in front of you, just like her footsteps on the dry grass. it was a biting, sarcastic comment. but that was the nature of your 'thing' with her: an attempt at small talk.
"needless to say, i really need that grass, and that's the only reason i came in pajamas." you said in the softest, silkiest voice; it was you, confident and careless.
"sure, just that." she said, her smile reflected on her lips even with her white teeth. her freckles crinkled, and she made an amused expression.
maybe her eyes moved slightly to your legs in those shorts. maybe not.
you kinda hated it. kinda not.
"can we just—" you paused, taking your right hand out of your pocket as if to emphasize your words. you'd reached that level of trust with ellie; at least you weren't ashamed to admit in front of her your urgency. "i really need it. it wasn't a good day."
ellie adjusted her expression to something calmer; she was no longer insufferable, no longer mocking. "what was it this time?" she said in a whisper almost mixed with the wind, her gaze dropping to her hands, from which she pulled out a rolled-up napkin.
she tried to look casual, but deep down, she seemed interested.
you looked at the napkin in her hands, your heart beating faster, it was relief. it wasn't that you considered yourself an addict, but in those moments you just wanted to smoke and maybe cry for a while in your bed.
"introduction to epistemology. i failed it." you said in a jaunty, almost heavy tone, but with the same casual tone as before.
ellie raised her gaze again and tilted her head. she nodded, her expression still calm. "that sucks."
her hands extended toward you, the two joints on the napkin as always. the same old transaction.
you felt like the conversation ended there; they were small, disinterested things. they were both like platonic, sort of.
your hand reached back into your hoodie, intent on pulling out the twenty-dollar bill. you simply felt the white receipt from your milk and pancake mix purchases from a few hours ago.
fuck.
your expression faded as you counted the two pockets of your hoodie. there was absolutely none of the money you remembered taking before leaving the dorm.
you even thought about starting to search through your jeans pockets; which pockets, which jeans? you were only wearing the ridiculous pastel-colored shorts.
and you felt ridiculous once again.
you got along with ellie, but she didn't even play with this kind of stuff, not like this. a payment is a payment, nothing is free.
or that's what you thought, right?
"ellie... i'm sorry, i completely forgot the fucking money in my room—" you didn't sound so confident anymore, your tone of voice was heavier, even embarrassed.
ellie raised an eyebrow, a strand of her hair falling over her forehead, her expression amused, you could recognize it even in the low light.
"smart girl i see, aren't you?" she said, a little ruder than she meant to be.
you looked up, even frowning more than usual.
"you know what? forget this. i'll go back to my dorm," you said anxiously, your pride weighing more. but still...
"shit— no, forget that too. i know we're not the best of friends, but i really need this, can't i pay you back another day? i swear on my life i will, ellie."
you said, and suddenly you sounded pathetic, but you were starting to feel that anxiety in the back of your chest, your thoughts wouldn't stop, and you knew that if you didn't 'dope' that night, you wouldn't sleep for another two days.
ellie almost mocked, not in a cruel way, it was even as if she felt sorry for you, her face softened a little, but her gaze seemed to betray what her words would quickly say.
"i'm not quite sure you want to hear my other payment uses."
you were perplexed for a few seconds, your mind twisting with a barrage of obvious ideas, your thoughts processing what ellie might be proposing to you. but deep down, you wanted this. you wanted the weed, and... you were ashamed to admit that the way ellie looked at you every time you met was an unspoken need ever since you met her.
"speak no more, i'll flash you in exchange for a joint, just one."
your words came out faster than your mind could actually think of. you felt that heat rise to your cheeks and begin to spread to your ears.
you even felt a burn of embarrassment when you saw ellie's face form into one of disbelief, as if she couldn't believe you were actually materializing what she was formulating in her mind.
did you want to back out? no. actually, it was already too late, but a feeling in your lower stomach started to tell you that this was about more than just a joint.
"that— has to be the hottest thing anyone's ever said to me. and i'm absolutely fucking no one to refuse, so you're in luck, woman."
ellie said with a smile as big as if she'd won the lottery. cause she did.
she wasn't the cruel type. but something in her gaze changed, and the way she began to bite her lower lip made your insides twist. the heat was no longer simply embarrassment.
your gaze shifted from ellie to the sides, as if carefully checking that there wasn't another soul nearby, your heart pounding in your chest as if you were running a marathon.
your hands went to the zipper of your hoodie and you could see ellie's posture change. she smiled sideways, even wearing that stupid expression as if she couldn't believe she was actually about to see this happen.
you unzipped with restraint using a basic pink t-shirt underneath. you didn't know how to act, so just simply lifted up the shirt.
you weren't wearing any kind of bra, absolutely nothing.
immediately the air left your lungs, your cheeks were so red they hurt— your bare chest in front of ellie's eyes. but as soon as you could read her expression, you felt that peculiar ache between your legs, and you didn't know whether to curse yourself for it.
"fuck." ellie spat in a whisper, at first it felt like the words had been stolen from her, her eyes glued to your breasts.
"those tits—fuck, i always knew it," she said.
"w-what?" you said, even having trouble speaking, but the heat rose in your stomach.
"i mean, i don't want to be a creep—but damn, you're fucking hot." she said.
the air changed quickly. up until that moment, you were still holding the shirt in your hands. nipples erect from the cold, goosebumps on your skin, too. everything inside you was vibrating. but only a movement of both of your legs gave you away.
a poor attempt to feel something between your legs. your thighs pressed together, and it wasn't until that moment that ellie took her gaze off your tits and raised it to yours. a teasing smile, a step forward.
"this is turning you on, huh?" she said.
you didn't respond, but you slowly let go of your shirt, your eyes blinking rapidly, unable to stop looking at her. it was like a magnet.
"you're not talking now? you don't want the weed anymore?" ellie said, taking the napkin out of her jacket again. "those tits deserve two joints."
"we said one, one's fine—" you said almost painfully, it didn't even matter anymore to try to hide the obvious, the heat you felt.
the way ellie seemed to mock you but not completely, the way she looked at you, the way she spoke... you didn't want anything else in those moments.
"i'll give you the whole bag for a kiss," ellie said, in that tone of hers, so rough yet soft at the end.
that took the rational mind out of you, and in less than a few seconds, you shortened your steps, murmured something stupid and joined your lips with ellie's in a messy kiss.
before you could think about it any further, ellie's hands landed on your waist in just the right way, hugging you, holding you close. when the kiss ended, she looked at you as if questioning you, as if trying to figure out if you wanted this. but you just threw yourself into another kiss, wrapping your arms around her.
"ah—ah, easy, c'mere."
ellie whispered silkily, walking toward the bleachers a few steps away. she took the seat first, spreading her legs and letting you sit in the middle.
"just this once," you whispered, as if it were a promise. but your thoughts melted away the moment you felt ellie's kisses on the curve of your shoulder. she'd removed the hoodie from there, along with the shirt, pulling the fabric down a bit to give herself more room.
"just this once," ellie repeated, but it was more like a mockery of your words. even if you weren't looking, you could feel the big smile that formed on her face.
ellie's kisses continued, you felt her mouth open and suck, her tongue run over your neck, your jaw. but everything escalated when her hand, slightly freezing by the weather, slipped under your shorts.
you let out a tiny gasp, the temperature of her hands making your skin crawl.
"relax, you'll like it more this way."
ellie whispered in your ear, and as if she could hear your thoughts, she cupped her hand over your pussy, over your thin fabric panties.
you immediately let out another gasp, but it wasn't long before ellie pushed your panties aside, spreading your legs wider and running the tip of her index finger along your slit, making a sweet path from your clit to your entrance.
"pussy so good." she hissed in your ear, and you moaned for the first time, your hands holding onto her knees and legs as the adrenaline of the place made your ball of nerves throb even more. her hands were freezing, and the sensation felt like heaven.
ellie continued to run her index finger along it like she knew your pussy, gracefully parting your folds as she explored, probed. seconds later, her index and middle fingers began circling your swollen clit, slow and rhythmic.
"are you this wet cause i saw your tits? tssk... i think I'm in love with you already." she said.
you moaned as quietly as you could, your brow furrowed and your lips parted to release sounds of need, there was no remedy.
"ellie—" you tried to say, you tried to defend your spirit a little in the dynamic but ellie hissed and shut you up again, leaving extremely sweet kisses on your cheek, a contrast to what her fingers were doing between your legs.
"shh, i'm gonna fuck you so good, pretty thing..." she whispered, now leaving kisses on the corner of your jaw, where her lips met skin.
ellie's middle finger went down to your entrance, and with the tip of it she began to make circles around it. just a few seconds.
then you felt it.
finally, ellie's middle finger began to enter you, it was slow and you could feel the tightness as her finger made it all the way in, you couldn't help but let out a louder moan.
"there, there it is, good. you squeeze me so well." ellie whispered, her own crotch pressed against your ass and you could feel the slight movements of her pelvis, she was just as aroused as you were.
"shit—" was all you could say as the second finger entered you, long and thin all the way, the tips brushing against your sensitive spot and you felt butterflies in your stomach.
"there! there... —ellie." you gasped in a whisper, your hands tightening on ellie's legs.
"mmh, shit..." ellie said as she looked up slightly over your shoulder as if she could see something, and began to thrust her fingers in and out of your slick entrance, making obscene sounds in the darkness.
your mind was no longer in a place of complete morality, all you could think about was the excitement and pleasure running through your body, ellie's fingers going in and out of you— that's when you felt her free hand go up under your shirt and squeeze your right breast, kneading it with authority.
"these tits... fuck. come on, cum on my fingers," ellie whispered. her tone was authoritative, but it revealed need on her part.
you moaned even louder as you felt her hand shamelessly squeeze your breasts— play with your nipple. her fingers buried inside you—you could almost see angels in public.
you were close, ellie knew it by the way you clenched around her fingers, and you could feel her pelvis rubbing, hunting for something, a little friction.
"i'm gonna— i want to cum... ellieellie..." you panted, trying to silence your moans, small 'ahs!' and your open mouth and closed eyes were enough of a sign that at any moment you would unleash yourself.
ellie lowered her hands from your breasts and at the same time that she fingered you, she began to rub your clit in circles quickly, mistreating your swollen knot.
"c'mon, i got you..." ellie gasped in your ear, her hand full of your wetness and that was all you needed to let out a high-pitched moan and arch your back, trying to remove ellie's fingers from your pussy because of the overstimulation.
ellie let out murmurs and gasps when she saw you cum, her fingers still buried deep inside of you, but then she gave your swollen clit a few harmless slaps.
four pats and she continued rubbing you, placing kisses on your neck.
"so beautiful." ellie whispered in a lighter tone when she felt you come down from the cloud; it was only at that moment that she removed her hand from between your legs, completely wet fingers.
you swore you saw blurry, and you lift yourself from her legs and sat next to her on the bench, legs trembling, cheeks red, a little embarrassed.
but ellie had that smirk that could drive anyone crazy, or make anyone fall in love, depending on how you looked at it.
"that was..." you began, not even knowing what to say or do. you'd had sex with women before, but in public? you needed to lock yourself away for a whole year after that.
before you could finish what you were trying to say, ellie ran a hand through her reddish-brown hair, greenish eyes in yours and her cheeks flushed.
"i'd embezzle my entire weed just to have you sit on my face." she stated. firm.
you were screwed.
(hey to whoever is reading this!!!!!!! i'm pretty much new here and this has been in my drafts for years, also english is not my first lenguage, so it might have mistakes here and there, i promise to improve, give me time<3 this is just 4 fun so don't take it too seriously, and if you liked this it could be very nice if u let me know for the next time. feel free to send questions and requests, just be nice plz. thx for reading! byeeeeeh)
a one-shot about attempting to get over your ex, ellie williams, and ending up right back in her bed anyways (inspired by one direction's little black dress).
content: ellie williams x reader, modern au, exes to lovers, little bit of angst little bit of smut, hate sex (kinda), dom-ish!ellie, possessiveness, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving)
word count: 2.6k
author's note: happy belated 15-year anniversary to one direction and cheers to all my directioner-to-raging-lesbian pipeline victims who celebrate! i got wine drunk yesterday on july 23 (one direction's birthday) and wrote this. while it's mostly inspired by little black dress, it's also largely inspired by my fuckass ex. enjoy!
"... and you know what else is fucking insane?” you say, pointing an aggressively accusatory finger at your best friend from across the room—drink sloshing in your glass. “i paid for her doordash. like, several times.”
your friend doesn’t even flinch. she’s heard this one before. multiple times.
“i'd be financially fuckin' down bad, eating cup noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and i would still pay to have jersey mikes express delivered to her doorstep,” you continue, pacing now, barefoot in your kitchen with only one lash strip glued on and your outfit zipped halfway. “i think that counts as love. like real, sacrificial, biblical love.”
“you’re drunk,” she says, not looking up from her lip liner application. “and spiraling.”
“i am not spiraling,” you lie, sipping your vodka redbull with such aggressive force the glass clinks against your teeth. “i’m casually revisiting past traumas in a safe and healthy environment.”
“you’re doing the exact same drunk rant you did last weekend. word for word. only, last time, you recited her exact jersey mikes order. i tried it, by the way. it was mid”
you glare at her.
she sets down her lip gloss and stands, hands on her hips. “tonight is not about ellie fucking williams. we are not mourning. we are whoring.”
you burst into giggles, despite the statement not being that funny. maybe you were drunk.
“bitch, i'm not laughing. say it with me.”
your giggles peter out.
“say it.”
“…we’re not mourning, we’re whoring.”
“louder.”
“we’re not mourning, we’re whoring!”
“there she is,” she grins, passing you a shot of clear liquid in a tiny glass with the words 'jamaican me crazy' printed on it. “now put on your other lash, zip that dress, and let’s go get you laid.”
you down the shot with a hiss. “how much do you wanna bet someone will strap me despite meeting me for the first time tonight?"
"crossing my fingers for your sake."
you disappear into your room to finish getting ready. when you emerge, fully zipped into your little black dress—the one with the dangerously short hemline and strapless top that makes your tits look borderline illegal—your friend’s jaw drops.
“you look fucking hot."
you grin and squeal excitedly, clapping your hands. "i knooow!"
she fans herself dramatically. “if someone isn't fucking you tonight, i will."
“bitch, don't play. you know i'd eat your pussy if you just asked."
you both laugh and cheers your final drinks, grabbing your keys and rushing to meet the uber that had already been waiting outside for three minutes. settling into the leather seat of the air conditioned car, there's only one thing on your mind:
don’t think about ellie. don’t talk about ellie. definitely don’t fuck around and accidentally still be in love with ellie.
easy, right?
the bass hits before the door even swings shut behind you.
it’s all strobe lights and wall-to-wall sweat and bodies pressed together. the air smells like cheap tequila, mint vape juice, and desperation. you breathe it in like a lifeline.
your friend latches onto your wrist, already dancing before you’ve made it ten feet inside. “let's get fucking wasted,” she yells over the music, already moving to pull out one of the shooters you'd both shoved into your cleavage prior to arrival.
you nod, adjust the hem of your dress just to ruck it back up again to show some more skin, and then dive into the crowd with her.
the music pulses, low and dirty and you move like you’ve got something to prove.
somewhere between ke$ha and nicki minaj, a girl finds you.
masculine. tall. arms covered in ink. low-slung jeans and a lazy grin. you give her one look—slow, up and down—and that’s all it takes.
she’s at your side in seconds.
hands slide over your hips. you roll them back into her. her breath hitches.
perfect.
you let her touch you. let her lean in close and whisper something flirty in your ear that you're too buzzed to understand. you throw your head back and laugh like you’re finally unbothered.
like there's not an ellie williams sized hole in your chest anymore.
and then your phone buzzes in your hand.
my main bitch: she’s here. at the bar. saw her while getting drinks.
my main bitch: do you want to leave???
you freeze for half a second and your blood runs cold.
then you look up—over the stranger’s shoulder, across the crowd—and there she is.
ellie fucking williams.
leaning against the bar, open button-up rolled at the sleeves, and beer in hand. eyes locked on you like she’s been staring for five minutes already.
her expression is unreadable. but her jaw’s tight and she's gripping the neck of the beer bottle so fiercely it might shatter.
you smirk.
you: nah.
my main bitch hearted your message.
my main bitch: PERIODDDD
then, deliberately, you guide the stranger’s hands lower. over your hips. your thighs. your ass.
song after song, you make a show of it. grinding. laughing. pretending to moan when the stranger presses you closer. as her mouth brushes your neck, your eyes flick toward the bar.
ellie's still there, still watching.
you spin. lock your arms around the stranger’s neck and sway closer to her, right into the perfect line of sight.
and that’s when ellie’s beer slams back onto the counter. you actually hear the noise of glass against wood over the heavy thumping music
you grin, breathless. “sorry,” you whisper to your dance partner. “need a drink.”
she tries to keep you there, pressing a lingering kiss just under your jaw. you smile through it, not stopping her.
because you know who’s watching.
after a wet, sucking kiss on your neck that would quickly turn into a hickey if you weren't careful, you peel yourself away and strut toward the bar, every step dripping in confidence you only half feel.
you’re not supposed to be the girl who begs anymore.
you’re the girl she comes crawling back to.
the bar is sticky and overcrowded. elbows jostle you as you slide in between a group of girls ordering green tea shots and two guys doing that gross elbow-lean-flirt thing on a server.
you don’t care. you’re glowing. flushed and smug and pleasantly buzzed.
you flag the bartender with a lazy hand and glance behind you, leaning on the edge of the bar top and waiting to feel her sidle up behind you.
you don’t have to wait long.
“seriously?”
her voice is sharp and low, right by your ear.
you don't flinch. you don’t even turn. just hum, amused.
“you're seriously gonna let some random fucking girl feel you up like that?” she asks again. she’s closer now—crowding you against the bar like she’s entitled to the space around your body.
you spin on your heel, casually, like you weren't literally waiting for her to arrive.
“ellie,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “long time no see.”
she looks pissed—jealousy and indignation fighting for control across her face. her gaze drops for a second—to your lips, your chest, your legs—before she forces herself to look back up.
“do you have to be so—”
“so what?” you interrupt, eyes wide. “so hot? unbothered? so not-giving-a-fuck-about-you-anymore?"
she scoffs. “you’re drunk.”
“and, clearly, you’re still in love with me,” you counter, voice sugar-sweet. “so i guess we all have our crosses to bear.”
the bartender hands you your drink and you turn back around, taking a long sip.
ellie doesn’t move. "you know i love that dress on you,” she mutters. “wore it for me?"
“nope. wore it to get fucked.”
“that why you let her touch you like that?”
you smile into your drink. “that’s the beauty of dumping me, ellie. i can do whatever i want. with whoever i want. wherever i want.”
you give her a mocking look of sympathy. "anyway,” you say. “enjoy your drink.”
and just like that, you step away.
you’re halfway to the bathroom later, having consumed two more drinks and a shot your friend had gotten some random old guy to buy for you two, when she finds you again.
the hallway is dim, quieter than the rest of the club. you catch your reflection in the mirror across from the bathroom door, lipgloss still mostly intact.
she’s behind you before you can blink. you see her in the mirror first—eyes practically glowing in the low light.
“couldn’t stay away, huh?” you say, not turning around.
“why her?” she rasps.
you raise an eyebrow. “she’s hot. into me and has only shown me attention the entire night. unlike the shit you loved to pull.”
ellie steps forward—too close—and you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “you let her put her hands all over you.”
“yup.”
“in my dress."
“yours?"
“and for what?"
you finally turn, slowly, a challenge in your gaze. “like i said, i wore it to get fucked."
ellie’s breath catches. her jaw tightens like she’s trying not to say something she’ll regret.
“jesus,” she mutters, backing you against the wall.
you tilt your head, goading her. “jealous?”
her laugh is breathless. bitter. “of course i fucking am."
you freeze. you didn't expect her to actually admit it so openly and, for once, you don’t have a comeback.
she steps in again, now barely inches from your face. “i saw you tonight, and i thought i could handle it. thought i could just ignore it, but then you were dancing with her and—shit. i wanted to fucking kill her for touching you like that."
“should’ve thought of that before you broke up with me,” you whisper, voice tight.
she groans, low and desperate. “you don’t get it.”
“actually, i do,” you snap suddenly. “i got it every night you didn’t show up for me. every text you left on read. every random girl you flirted with for fun. every time i begged you to just talk to me and you couldn’t be bothered. i got it, ellie. loud and fucking clear.”
she’s silent.
you can see it in her eyes now—the grief. the guilt.
and still—the want.
then she whispers, “you said you wore the dress to get fucked, right?"
you blink. once. twice. then nod, unsure.
"well at least let me be the one to fuck you."
and then it’s happening.
she grabs your waist, hard. you’re pulled flush against her and her mouth crashes into yours.
you kiss her back and it's messy. desperate. all teeth and hands and weeks of tension finally snapping like a rubber band.
her hands roam while your nails dig into her shoulders. her thigh slides between your legs and you gasp against her mouth, one hand flying to grip the back of her neck.
“you’re still mine,” she growls, voice wrecked. “tell me you’re not.”
“fuck you,” you whisper. “you don’t get to claim me.”
she grins, eyes dark. “then stop kissing me like you want me to.”
you yank her closer.
“i fucking hate you,” you say, and it’s so full of heat and ache that it barely sounds convincing.
she kisses you again. slower, this time. lingering. teeth dragging your bottom lip. a hand sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up.
“let me make you hate me a little more,” she murmurs, voice hot and heavy against your mouth.
you don’t stop her when she takes your hand, tugging your dress hem down roughly in a fruitless attempt to cover you up.
you don’t stop her when she pulls you out the door of the club, straight into one of the overpriced taxis that camp out on nights like these for easy money.
you don't stop when she takes your phone, typing in your password—of course she remembers it—shooting off an apologetic text to your friend explaining that she'll zelle her for an uber home. she quietly flicks your ringer to vibrate only after the instant barrage of messages you receive back telling you to stay far away from that trifling cunt.
and you definitely don’t stop her when she kisses you into the old fabric of the backseat of the cab like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she stops touching you.
when the taxi driver snaps his fingers to get your attention, motions to the familiar sight of ellie's apartment building outside the car, your dress is riding up indecently high, lip gloss smudged from where she bit you. you’re still panting, subtly.
you don't even make it past the front door before she’s on you.
you slam into the wall of her apartment, her mouth already on yours, hot and frantic. she’s pulling at the dress, dragging the hem up your thighs again, teeth grazing your jaw.
“tell me to stop,” she pants.
“don’t you fucking dare.”
her hands find your ass, squeeze hard. you gasp.
“you were fucking showing off in this thing,” she growls against your neck, kissing down it. “knew i’d be watching. knew exactly what you were doing.”
you laugh, a little dazed from her onslaught of kisses. “and you still fell for it.”
“i’d fall for you every time.” her voice cracks a little. the room spins as you try to ignore the heart wrenching tenderness in her voice. then the backs of your calves are hitting the edge of her bed.
the dress comes off in one swift motion and, of course, you’re not wearing a bra. her breath catches audibly.
“i've really fucking missed these, that's for sure,” she mutters, eyes glued to your chest.
you grin, cocky. squeeze your shoulders in and arch your back just a little more, putting on a show.
“fuckin' mine,” she murmurs, right before her mouth wraps around your nipple.
you whimper, threading your fingers into her hair and pulling as she moans. "shit. that's—ah. that feels so good."
her teeth graze, tongue soothing right after and you press firmly on the crown of her head, pushing her into you.
you're already so soaked your thighs are sticky by the time her hand slips down your stomach.
“you still like it when i do this?” she whispers, fingers sliding between your legs, dragging through your slick with quick flicks.
you can’t even answer. just nod, desperate, bucking your hips in time with the motion.
she slips two fingers in slowly and deliberately and groans like she’s the one being touched.
“fuuuck, baby,” she mutters. “so wet for me. thought you hated me?”
“i do,” you lie through your moan. "i really fucking do."
she pumps into you faster, curling just right. her thumb circles your clit lazily.
“then why’s your pussy so fucking needy for me, huh?”
you whimper. “ellie—”
“missed hearing that.” she kisses your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder. “missed you. missed this. missed how you fall apart for me.”
you’re gasping now, grinding down on her fingers. her palm’s flush against you, pressure just right...
then she pulls her fingers out—and taps them against your lips.
“suck.”
you do, instinctively and obediently. her eyes flutter shut.
“god, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
she kisses you again, messier this time, licking into your mouth to taste for herself. her hand trails back down, this time her mouth following.
you immediately grab her hair when she drops between your legs. "ahhh— fuck. ellie!"
she doesn’t tease. her tongue is firm, practiced, and possessive.
your thighs tremble and your back arches so hard it cracks. you cry out, legs thrown over her shoulders, hands fisting the sheets. "saymyname," she mumbles into you. "say my fuckin' name, baby."
when you finally come, it’s like the two syllables have been practically strangled out of your throat. she licks your through it with long, thorough swipes of her tongue, humming her assent.
then kisses her way back up your body and flops beside you, chest heaving.
for a minute, neither of you speak.
then, quietly:
“…still hate me?”
you turn your head to look at her.
she looks stupidly hopeful.
you sigh, brushing messy auburn hair out of her face.
“ask me again in the morning.”
your phone buzzes again from somewhere on the floor:
my main bitch: at least tell me if you got strapped like you wanted 😩
this work is mine. please don’t repost, copy, or publish elsewhere without permission. thank you!
Howdy! OKAY IMMA WRITE THIS REAL SHORT SO IT WONT GET TOO COMPLICATED
imagine being roommates with loser ellie but every time you forgot to bring your towel with you, you would scream from behind the bathroom door and she would be so red just to hand you
AGGHHH
music rang throughout the bathroom, soft melodies bouncing off the walls. the warmth of the shower already missed once you step out. reaching for your towel, confused when it’s not there until you remember it’s sitting on your bed.
“ellie!” you yell, trying to be heard over the music.
“what?”
“can you please get my towel off my bed, i left it.”
she groans, this wasn’t the first time you’ve asked her to do this. she hated it every time. not because of you, well kind of. but because everytime she saw you she’d freak out. over the past months she’s developed a crush on you, and ellie being ellie couldn’t be normal about it. always blushing and stuttering over her words when around you.
she slowly gets up from the couch, mentally preparing for the loser she’s about to become around you, “yeah, give me a second.”
once in your room, she heads to your bed to grab the towel. slowly approaching the door she awkwardly sticks her hand through the crack, face redder than a tomato.
“h-here’s your towel.”
“thanks!” ellie’s face got more red at the sound of your voice, she hated how sweet you sounded.
ellie begins to make her way out of your room when you come out of the bathroom in nothing but your towel. wet hair clinging to your skin, face slightly reddened from the hot shower.
“thanks again for grabbing my towel, i don’t know why i forget it all the time.”
ellie awkwardly turns to face you, face still as red as ever, “yeah - yeah it was no problem, anytime.”
“you’re the best ellie!” you walk over to her, giving her small kiss on the cheek before heading back into the bathroom.
ellie’s whole body went numb, she thought she might actually collapse in the middle of your room. she’s so not getting over her crush anytime soon.
warning: Ellie’s biceps mention. please proceed with extreme caution. you have been warned. (very rushed piece of garbage, forgive me.)
“Sit down, please.” You stood before the couch, laptop in your hands. Ellie froze mid-chew, her thumb hovering over her phone’s screen, squinting in confusion.
“I’m already sitting,” she said through obnoxious bites.
You looked at her with a deadpan before plopping down beside her. Her eyes fixed on your laptop’s screen.
“May I have two minutes of your attention?”
She furrowed her brow, eyes returning to your computer screen.
“What’s this?” she asked before taking a larger bite of her protein bar.
“I made a PowerPoint.”
“Uh—okay?”
“Ready?” Your brows lifted at her, and she hummed. You hit your spacebar, and the blank front page revealed the real front page: bold white letters on a pink, sparkly background reading, “69 Reasons Why I Should Be Allowed to Bite You (a serious presentation by: your girlfriend).”
She stared at you for a full second, chewing with a deep, confused frown taking over her scrunched features.
“Okay, so hear me out,” you started, eyes flicking between her and the screen as you pressed the spacebar again.
SLIDE ONE: Look at your arms.
You nodded as she slowly read the words, gesturing toward her bicep. “Tell me they’re not succulent. You’re lying.”
Her nose scrunched up like it always did when she was trying not to laugh, choking on whatever last few bits of protein bar had gotten stuck in her teeth.
“Alright, dramatic reaction—slide number choo.”
She read aloud this time: “You’re my girlfriend. I should have bite privileges. That’s in the constitution.”
She looked at you again, trying to keep a straight face. “Pretty sure that’s illegal in most states—”
Irrelevant, so you proceeded with the third one.
This slide, though, was actually a blurry photo of her asleep, her shirt half-off her shoulder. Captioned: “This part of you specifically,” with a red circle drawn around her collarbone that you tapped at promptly. “You knew what you were doing, don’t even look at me like that.”
She snorted, covering her mouth. “Is that—when did you take that? Do you take pictures of me in my sleep?”
“You left the window open. That’s on you.”
“Christ.”
The next slides consisted of a simple gathering of scientific proofs you had thoroughly selected the night before.
One was about historical evidence: “Cavemen probably did it, and they were in love.”
Then it was a pie chart labeled “How Much I Want to Bite You (spoiler: it’s 100%).”
Then a piece of rushed poetry you’d written: “Teeth yearn for arms just like heart yearns for blood. Carnivorous romance.”
Lastly, it was a screenshot of a DM you sent her last week that just said, “Can I gnaw gently on your forearm like a hamster with a chew toy?”
By slide 42, she’s barely breathing, purple in the face for laughing too hard.
It was a picture you’d secretly taken of her from behind, stretching after an intense workout, wearing nothing but a sports bra.
Caption: “If I’m not allowed to bite this trapezius, then why is it shaped like a meat snack?? Explain.”
Slide 52:
Scientific research (from Wikipedia) titled:
“Mammals that bite their mates as a bonding activity.”
You pointed dramatically at the screen. “You see? Love. Science. God wanted this.”
“Oh my god—” she laughed into the palms of her hands.
“Splendid. Now wait till I get to 69.”
“Wait till I get you in 69,” she wiggled her brows.
“Unfunny, overall mediocre,” you deadpanned, hitting the keyboard violently.
Slide 56:
It’s Ellie’s own texts, screenshotted, where she once said, “You’re so cute I could eat you.”
You zoomed in. “So who’s the real criminal here?” You stabbed at the screen aggressively.
She cracked up. “That’s not what I—”
“That’s a crime, you know.”
Slide 58:
Photoshopped fake news article headline:
“Local Girl Hospitalized After Denying Girlfriend Bite Rights – Regrets Everything.”
“Wow, this is—”
“Yup, tragic, I know.”
Slide 69:
“You let me once. And you moaned.”
A mic drop animation played before the screen went black, and she looked more offended than ever.
“Okay. First of all—fuck you. That was taken out of context.”
You didn’t even say anything; raising your brow was enough to make her go on.
“That wasn’t a moan; that was like... a grunt. A bite grunt. Like a reflex. Like when you hit your knee and it kicks.”
“I’m going to hold your hand when I tell you this...”
“NO. I’m defending my honor. That was not a moan. I don’t moan when you bite me.”
You just snickered. “You literally arched into it!”
“I HAVE A CURVED SPINE!”
You lost it. She threw a couch pillow at your head, didn’t even aim, just rage-launched it while refusing to make eye contact.
“So can I bite you?” you then asked.
Ellie groaned, flopping backward onto the couch, one arm draped across her face. “You’re obsessed with me. It’s actually insane. You need help.”
You crawled on top of her, hovering. “That’s not a no.”
“It’s a cry for help.”
You poked her cheek. “Still not a no.”
She peeked out from under her arm. “Bite me and I swear to God—”
Your open mouth, awaiting contact, inched closer to her arms.
She gasped. “NO ’CAUSE IF YOU DO I’LL—” She didn’t even finish the sentence before she shrieked-laughed and kicked at you, completely red.
“OH MY GOD—” she screamed at the harsh bite, yelling through laughter. “YOU NEED TO BE FUCKING STUDIED.”
PAIR: islander!ellie williams x bombshell!fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: you enter the villa as the suprise bombshell during the bdsm-themed party for the islanders and decide it’s time for somebody to dish out punishment to a certain contestant.
loveisland!ellie who enters the villa as the first bombshell of the season.
she didn’t walk in alone either. she strutted in next to another bombshell named cat, but let’s be real: no one noticed cat. all eyes were on her.
ellie had that kind of presence you felt before you saw. she walked in with a half-smirk playing on her lips, one hand lazily resting on the back of her neck, the other tucked into the pocket of her jorts. a plain white tee clung to her frame beneath an open cream crocheted beach shirt with matching cream sneakers and white socks along with a gold chain that glinted and swayed around her neck so good it made you want to think what it looked like dangling above you. her was in a half-up, half-down with little strands falling loose and framing her face in that annoyingly perfect way.
and that was before she even said a word.
the challenge was simple; the islanders were blindfolded and seated in a circle. ariana, the host, would tap a random islander to get up and kiss someone of their choosing. a little cheeky, a little sexy, a little chance to stir the pot in the villa.
ellie, however, had producer instructions: don’t. say. a word. no one could know the bombshells had arrived.
she walked in and immediately scanned the circle: blindfolds, coupled-up bodies, nervous giggles. her eyes skipped over owen and abby and landed on dina, sitting next to jesse, knees practically touching. she tilted her head and grinned.
‘damn, she’s hot’ besides the fact half her face was hidden by a blindfold.
she didn’t hesitate. walked straight up to dina, grabbed her gently but firmly by the neck, and pulled her in for a kiss—tongue and all. ellie practically swallowed her lips and for sure left a red hand mark on her skin that would be faded by morning. the sounds were enough to make jessie grimace as his jaw tightened at the sounds, forced to sit there and listen.
didn’t matter anyway because she was onto the next before the shock even set in.
she made her rounds like it was nothing:
grabbed abby by the ponytail
bit riley’s lip so hard she left a mark
need i say more?
she kissed every girl in the circle like it was her own personal tasting menu
loveisland!ellie who when then blindfolds came off, left everybody speechless.
jaws on the floor—you would need a construction crew with a front end loader tractor to pick them back up.
they didn’t need ariana to announce a single thing, it was clear: a true bombshell has entered the villa and it can only get more explosive from here.
loveisland!ellie who rightfully earns the title of ms. steal yo girl.
that night she pulled dina for a chat, casually leaning back like she hadn’t just turned the villa upside down with one pair of lips. she didn’t even ask who kissed her, she TOLD her.
“yeah, that was me.”
bye-bye jesse! i’m sure things were fun while it lasted.
there are some cracks in owen and abby relationship so maybe he can slip through and have a chat with her, although abby looks at him so annoyed at times as if she wants to shoot him dead in his tracks- wait….
loveisland!ellie who is a fuckgirl.
she’s the flirty type, yeah. a little cocky. a little unbothered. but also kind of awkward… she’s lucky she’s hot so nobody notices. she’s that lesbian who can deadlift more than your boyfriend but still can’t make proper eye contact with a woman. don’t tell her i told you this butttttt she said the trick is to look in the middle of the forehead! we all know ellie deep down is a loser but hey… it’s part of the charm.
she didn’t come to love island looking for love. be serious. you put a horny lesbian on a sun-drenched villa with a half-dozen half-naked women and expect her to find feelings? please.
she came for the thrill, free vacation, and some clout so people will listen to her guitar covers on tiktok—the stolen glances, the flustered girls stumbling over their words when she asks if they’re "open to connections” is a plus too. (spoiler: they always are.)
and god, does she live for the women. ellie works out in the morning and makes it a personal mission to entertain them. the way the girls pretend to tan while sneaking peeks at her arms. tank top clinging to her back, biceps flexing under the sun, abs peeking out every time she lifts her shirt to wipe sweat off her face. she knows the girls are watching.
she lives for pulling girls mid-convo with their current couples.
“mind if i pull you for a chat?” she asks, voice low, smug grin in place.
and they always follow her… always. even the loyal ones! even the ones who swore they were closed off. she asks them if they're happy in their couple and watches them spiral into the most painfully obvious answer-dodging sentence you've ever heard in your life.
at this point she’s pulled every girl for a chat just to hear them blush and stutter through sentences like, “yeah, i mean… i’m open… to, like… if something were to happen…”
ellie just grins and says, “cool” like she didn’t just homewreck their entire couple with one raised eyebrow and a smirk.
“a bombshell’s meant to shake things up,” she tells herself.
loveisland!ellie who doesn’t know what she’s getting into.
tonight is the leather and lace party, and the villa has never looked filthier. contestants were told to put on their finest pleather, latex, and bdsm-themed attire. the “island” part of love island became a literal sea of harnesses, corsets, and fake leather squeezing bodies just right. all of them gathered under the moonlight, the lawn turned into a makeshift dungeon set.
after the islanders took turns embarrassing themselves on the stripper pole (some of them surprisingly good... others? well being a midnight ballerina isn’t for everyone!), the host, ariana, appears with a grin of devil herself.
“time for tonight’s challenge,” she announces, her voice sugary sweet with a mean edge. “welcome to dominate tricks! where each islander gets tied to an x stand, and the others pick a kinky implement to punish them with. let’s see if you’ve been a bad boy… or a very, very good girl.”
the toys are laid out: paddles, whips, feathers, floggers, you name it. islanders giggle and groan as they get cuffed and strapped in, some feigning innocence, some looking a little too excited.
and then… ariana’s phone pings.
she reads the text, eyebrows shooting up in delight. “oh? looks like our special guest has arrived.” her eyes twinkle mischievously as the islanders twist their bodies to look around in confusion, all tied up and vulnerable. “should someone get the door?” she teases.
“no need,” a voice cuts through the night, smooth and smug. “i let myself in.”
a voice nobody’s heard before.
heads whip around, and then…
you step out from the shadows.
clad in glossy black latex that hugs every dip, curve, and arch of your body. the corset snatches your waist tight, framing the swell of your chest just right, the deep v-cut dipping scandalously low. your thighs are kissed by garters clipped to your boots, knee-high, laced, and loud with every step. there’s a choker around your neck, silver ring in the center, as if daring anyone to tug on it.
and the cameras? oh, they’re eating this up. you already KNOW the editors are about to eat up the slow-mo shots.
ariana whistles. “that’s some bad, bad behavior,” she purrs.
you smirk, turning slowly and giving them a full 360 spin, making sure they see you. bad behavior? duh. just look at you.
“well, ariana,” you say, voice syrupy and slick. “i’m a bad girl.”
the boys’ mouths go dry, the girls are loud, hooting and hollering, and somewhere in the mix is an awed, “jesus, her ass,” from one of them.
ellie is starstruck, jaw slack and all—caught somewhere between awe and, if she’s honest, the first stages of dehydration. she tries to play it cool, tongue poking at her cheek like she’s unimpressed, but her eyes? locked on you like she’s already imagining shit she shouldn’t.
loveisland!ellie who learns that even the hottest bombshells get burned.
ariana grins, “our guest gets to pick who they think’s the baddest in the villa, and dole out some… punishment.”
and you don’t even hesitate. in fact, you’ve had your eye on her…
you watched this season religiously before flying out to fiji. sitting on your couch in an oversized shirt and panties, snacks half-forgotten as you watched ellie williams play her little games. total woman slut with all due respect as disrespectful as that sounds.
those light, doe-like eyes. lashes for days. freckles scattered like they were painted on by a god in a good mood. and those hands? the tattoos? the arms? you could practically feel the damage through the screen—absolutely dangerous to your mental health. you found her @ on instagram and was biting your fingers stalking her deliciously scarce instagram account. for someone so bold you’d think she’d have more posts, but that’s alright with you… you can make due with the 5 total posts she has of herself plus the gym highlights.
you’d catch yourself whispering, “she’s such a red flag,” before also thinking, “yeah, but i’d still let her fuck me up.”
until you thought better.
why let the rogue beast ruin you when you could tame her instead?
the moment the producers texted back confirming your bombshell entry, you decided: the second your boots hit this villa, you’re taming ellie williams.
“i think…” you say, heels clicking as you leisurely pace the tied-up islanders, all eyes on you, “…a punishment is in order for you.”
you stop in front of her.
ellie blinks. “me?” the cocky lilt in her voice cracks halfway through.
“yes, you,” you mock gently, tilting your head. “don’t look so shocked. you’ve been very bad this season.”
you saunter over to her. hips swaying, the latex of your corset hugging your waist like a second skin, thigh-high boots eating up your legs with every step. every inch of your outfit screams you’re the final boss, the one they all wish would pick them, the one ellie is realizing way too late that she’s not ready for.
“mm, look at you,” you purr, circling her like a predator. “all that confidence you’ve been flinging around the villa, but here you are… tied up for me. helpless. how does that feel, ellie?”
her jaw ticks, like she’s trying so hard not to react, but you see it—see the way her thighs tense, see her chest rising a little faster. oh, she likes this.
you stop in front of the table of toys and props. your fingers delicately glide over them, tapping your chin in thought.
“hmm. what would humble you?”
you pick up a feather first, twirling it between your fingers before dragging it light as a whisper over her stomach. slow, teasing strokes across her abs, watching her flinch, watching her strain against the restraints like she can escape the way your touch makes her shiver.
“you’re lucky i’m feeling generous tonight,” you tease, “i could’ve picked the paddle first. but i’m not here to bruise that pretty body just yet.”
ellie scoffs, like she wants to play it cool, but her eyes are locked on your hands, her lip caught between her teeth.
you drop the feather and grab the spanker, slapping it lightly against your palm with a sharp pop. the sound alone has her straightening up, eyes flicking up to yours.
“gotta whip you into shape somehow, right?” you grin. “someone’s gotta teach you some discipline.”
you get closer, so close your breath fans over her neck as you trail the spanker down her stomach—down, down, just grazing the waistband of her pants before you toss it aside like you’ve grown bored.
then your hands are on her waist, fingers teasing the hem of her shirt. “let’s see what we’re working with.”
you tug her shirt up, slow, exposing more of that freckled skin, the curve of her waist, the faintest happy trail leading exactly where you wanna go. without warning, your tongue is on her: hot and wet, licking up her stomach in one long drag. her breath catches, low and shaky. the cameras are going crazy for this, you just know it.
but you’re not done.
you drop to your knees, just for a second, just long enough to hook your fingers in her waistband and pull it down barely an inch, exposing the sensitive skin just above where she really wants your mouth.
and that’s exactly where you lick her next; one slow, taunting stripe just above her mound.
“fuck,” ellie breathes out, barely audible, and it makes your grin spread wide.
you rise back up, slow, deliberate, till your face is inches from hers. she looks wrecked already and you haven’t even really touched her.
you tilt your head like you’re about to kiss her. ellie leans in, instinctive, greedy for it.
but instead—you grab her jaw, fingers firm, tilting her head back.
“open,” you command, voice low.
and she does; of course she does, i mean, look at who’s telling her to do so.
you spit into her mouth, watching her blink up at you in complete, dazed shock. her cheeks flush dark, but her tongue flicks out to taste you.
“good girl,” you murmur, satisfied.
you step back, turn on your heel, hips swaying again as you strut away. but not without glancing back over your shoulder.
“don’t worry, ellie,” you call over your shoulder, “i’m just getting started with you.”
“jesus christ,” ariana mutters into her mic with a laugh, “someone get the fire extinguisher, poor girl’s combusting.”
the cameras catch everything: ellie’s flushed, stunned face, the smirks from the girls, the loud whispers from the boys.
one thing’s for sure... you didn’t just shake up the villa—you shook ellie’s whole fucking mind.
maybe she’s not the total crashout everyone thinks she is. maybe she just needed the right person to straighten her out.
and lucky for her, that girl came in a beautifully wrapped latex present.
Can someone please explain to me how tf to get over a lesbian situation ship break up. The first time we stopped talking to each other was because I confronted her about her avoidant behavior. It felt as if she was losing interest in me, like she wasn't starting a conversation anymore, even after I told her that it was important to me. Also not responding within a reasonable fucking time, and I know that sounds ridiculous and clingy, but we were talking online like if it takes you 30 minutes to respond to a simple "wyd" text, that's a problem. Also, I feel like that could be a problem if we started actually dating. Anyway, I told her about this, and she told me that she had lost interest in me and that's why she was being distant, and I lowkey flipped tf out (mentally, not on her) The thing is she had known from the first few days that she had lost interest (I know this now, not at the time) because we called to play flee the facility (I know childish) and she randomly hung up and didn't respond to any of my texts. I got really worried because she wasn't responding, and I thought something had gone wrong or something bad had happened. I texted this bitch 4 TIMES. 4 FUCKING TIMES. I texted her asking if she was ok, then texted her asking if she was ok again and if she could text me if she was, then I told her goodnight and to text me if she was ok, and even though she didn't respond to any of those fucking messages I still sent her a good morning text. Flash forward 3 hours, she randomly texted me good morning, and I feel so relieved. Like, I was elated that she wasn't fuckin dead, but just wait, the plot thickens. I asked her how she slept, and she said she was awake for most of the fucking night! 😁 Like bitch you better be joking. And since she told me all the times she was WIDE awake, I went back and checked the time stamps of the messages. And yes. SHE WAS AWAKE EVERY TIME I TEXTED HER OUT OF CONCERN, AND SHE WAS ON HER FUCKING PHONE. And when I told her that I was really embarrassed that I was so worried about her and she was okay, she started pulling some victim bullshit saying, "Well now I feel like a shitty person," WELL FUCKING GOOD. Anyway, that's how I gave her the ick apparently, which led to her losing interest in me and leading me on so profusely you would like I was a fucking pig in Minecraft and she had a carrot on the stick.
Anyway, that's just the start of this personal hell I've been dealing with recently, and I would love to share more because I hate this bitch so fucking much! 🙂 Does anyone have any good coping mechanisms I could use? They are very needed! Anyway, let me know if you want more!
