𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬— Each day, you sense a presence observing you, a set of ravenous eyes and an even more insatiable hunger that tracks every movement of your solitary house. What this presence remains unaware of is your craving for those eyes to remain fixed upon you.
And that you crave the fangs as well.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭— 4.1k
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬— stalker!vampire!top!ellie x sub!reader, period oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), stalking, psychological elements, home invasion, blood drinking, biting, bloodplay, predator/prey dynamic, power play, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
Another solitary day drifts by in your even lonelier house.
It has become a ritual now — watching shadows shift and stretch in the corners, half-convinced they’re moving just for you.
Living alone is no simple feat, and loneliness itself is a burden so heavy you sometimes feel it pressing down on your chest. You feel it as you move through the rooms, as you wake in an empty bed, as you pour yourself a single glass of wine. Always just one. Each second stretches like an hour, and each day drags its feet like a year.
When you first arrived at this house — just two months ago — it all felt so promising.
A city you’d dreamed of, a job offer you never thought would land in your inbox, an opportunity to begin again. You packed your bags eagerly, smiling at the thought of a clean slate, of building a life where you could finally feel… something. Freedom maybe, or at least some kind of purpose.
You pictured friends filling your small kitchen, laughing late into the night. You even imagined lovers, imagined mornings tangled in unfamiliar sheets. Imagined a partner, taking care of you like in the romcoms you spent years watching.
But the reality was different.
People in this city move fast — too quickly to notice you, too hurried to stay. Your neighbors are polite but distant. Colleagues remain just that: colleagues. Everyone has a schedule to keep, plans that don’t involve you, some even have children to take care of. And even those you left behind, their calls grow shorter now. Texts are left unanswered longer and longer, until the silence between you and them feels permanent.
So you stay home.
You work from home, breathe from home, live from home.
You prepare meals for one. Music doesn’t fill the quiet, books don’t distract as well as they once did, and hobbies feel like attempts at patching a dam that is already cracking. On your loneliest nights, you lie in bed and pretend you don’t yearn for a warm weight beside you, a breath against your neck, an arm draped carelessly over your waist.
It was dreadful.
But for ellie, it was perfect.
A lonely creature for a lonely creature.
Years of starving herself on the blood of animals had left her restless. It had been her attempt at penance, at pretending she could survive differently, cleanly, at distancing herself from the monster she really was.
But their blood was never enough. Never warm enough, never rich enough, never filled with the delicious tang of terror and panic that only a human could offer.
And then there was a girl, just like you.
So human it made her teeth ache, so lonely it made her hunger sing.
And she started hunting again.
Hunting girls who slipped through the cracks, unnoticed. Girls who moved to the city to “start over,” but instead sank slowly into isolation, their absence barely a ripple in the ocean of crowded streets and sleepless skyscrapers. Girls with your skin tone, your hair color, whose blood she had learned was the sweetest of all.
Her hunger couldn’t be quieted anymore. Not after years of punishing herself with the thin, bitter and cold taste of foxes and raccoons, deer and birds.
And her next prey was you.
You, who left your windows open at night because you hadn’t yet installed curtains. You, who turned the lights off at the same time every night, made tea at the same hour every evening, moved through your routine with perfect predictability — like a small, skittish hamster repeating itself endlessly in a cage.
She started watching you the very night you moved in. Sat outside, hidden from view, while you unpacked boxes and sang softly under your breath. She learned the cadence of your footsteps on the stairs, the way you curled your body when you slept, the little sigh you let out when you slipped into your pajamas, flicking off the last lamp.
And when the sun dipped below the horizon and the city exhaled into sleep, she stayed.
Whether it rained or the wind howled, whether it was freezing or sweltering, she was there. Her gaze locked onto you, tracing your every move like a wolf in the underbrush — precise, patient, and driven by a growing hunger.
You didn’t notice her, yet. Just a strange sensation every now and then. A shiver that skated down your spine when you passed your own reflection, a little skip of your pulse when you caught something out of the corner of your eye.
But soon it became impossible to ignore.
The feeling grew heavier, like an invisible hand hovering just over your skin. Your chest tight, your mouth dry, even in the comfort of your own living room.
You tried to dismiss it — telling yourself it was exhaustion from work, nerves from being somewhere new. But some primal, deep, instinct part of you knew.
You started googling in the quiet hours of the night, wrapped in a blanket on your couch as the city glowed faintly beyond your window.
how can i tell if someone is stalk-
But your fingers always faltered before you could even hit ‘enter’, your lips twisting into a bitter smile and a scoff as you quickly erased the words. It sounded crazy even in your own head.
Who would bother stalking you, out of all people?
You closed the laptop and shoved it aside.
But the tingling didn’t go away. Not when you slipped on your headphones, not when you brewed another cup of tea, not even when you lay curled up in your bed whispering affirmations into the dark. Calls to friends and family provided fleeting relief, but as soon as the line went dead, the silence returned twice as loud, wrapping around your throat, slithering into your bones.
And then, one night, you couldn’t sleep. The white noise machine couldn’t soothe you, the rain drumming outside couldn’t lull you, the lavender tea grew cold on your bedside table. Your mind felt too loud, your skin too raw.
And thats you turned over — your body facing the window — and froze.
There, just beyond the glass: a girl.
A girl with skin that shimmered pale as bone, almost translucent beneath the moonlight. With eyes impossibly green and impossibly piercing. With hair that shined auburn in the pale light on the full moon.
Your breath caught mid-inhale. Your heart lurched, blood running cold and wild in your veins, rivers of red terror. Your muscles refused to move, paralyzed by the weight of her gaze.
You blinked.
Gone.
You blinked again.
Nothing.
You stare frozen at the window, eyes wide, unblinking, ears pricked for any sound — the creak of a floorboard, the scrape of wind, the whisper of breath that isn’t yours.
Everything feels more real now. Every shadow sharper, every second stretched thin and brittle, ready to snap.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. It’s a trick of the mind, a hallucination brought on by too many solitary hours, too many nights spent alone. You tell yourself you’re going insane.
But deep down, where no comforting mantra could reach, you knew the gaze had never left. It was still there.
And it had always been there.
There’s a strange, dreadful clarity that settles over you after the revelation, a shiver that starts at the base of your spine and doesn’t stop until it’s carved its way through your entire body.
Whereas for ellie, it was the moment she felt her own alarms blaring. She saw me?, she thought, pacing invisible circles outside your walls, her sharp mind working through what this meant. Maybe she should drop it. Abandon the whole game, slip away before things got messy. Find another lonely girl — easier, softer, clueless.
But then, her throat ached and her hunger twisted itself tighter around her ribs. she had been watching you for weeks now. Waiting. Wanting. There was no one else she craved. It had to be you.
So she made the decision to be faster, quicker. Before you moved away, before you put up curtains, before you did anything that might ruin the hunt.
She didn’t think about your fear. She didn’t think about how the air in your house felt colder now, how even with the heat on your fingers still trembled when they brushed against your own skin. How you double-checked the locks, the windows, the corners of every dark room. How you finally called someone to come install the curtains next week — a week too late.
No. You were just blood to her. Sweet, lonely, undefended blood.
But in your mind… in your mind, even if your actions said otherwise, it became an obsession.
The image of her was imprinted — scorched into you like lightning seared across the night sky. Her pale skin, her mossy piercing gaze, the impossible way she stood there, still as death itself.
Not human, you told yourself again and again. Maybe a lost woman? a vagrant? a hallucination? no google search could untangle what had wrapped itself around your thoughts.
You didn’t tell anyone.
But the next night, as darkness gathered again, something inside you shifted.
You were about to undress in the bathroom, like always. Habitual, safe, routined, when a strange heat unfurled in your belly. An intrusive thought, sharp and wicked:
What if she's watching?
Your fingers hesitated at the hem of your shirt. You turned toward the window instead. Slowly, almost dreamlike, you stepped into the center of the room, right in view of the glass.
Your heart raced. Your mouth went dry.
Am i sick?
The question flickered in your mind as you lifted your shirt, slowly peeling it away, revealing a flash of red — a bra you hadn’t worn in weeks.
You stood there, framed by the dark, illuminated by nothing but the pale glow of the city outside, your skin exposed, your breath shallow.
You should have been horrified. Instead, your pulse thrummed with dark excitement. Your stomach knotted with a heat you didn’t dare name.
Sick, you told yourself. You’re sick in the head. Twisted. Insane. Who wants to be watched like this?
But even as your mind repeated that, you slid your jeans down next, deliberate and slow — red thong matching the bra. Like the color of blood, you thought suddenly, dizzy with the comparison.
Your cheeks burned with shame, but your body hummed with lust and made your knees weak and your breath catch.
And Ellie didn’t think you were sick at all.
Hidden just beyond the veil of night, she watched every second. Each flick of your wrist, each gentle arch of your back as you stripped away the layers of fabric that shielded your soft skin from her gaze.
Her hunger, already sharp, turned molten. But there was more now. Something that curled hot and tight in her chest, something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time — longer than you had even been alive.
Desire.
This wasn’t the first time she’d seen you undress. She’d watched countless times from the shadows, her sharp eyes following your routine, memorizing every inch of your body, every idle gesture.
But this time it was different.
This time, you wanted her to see.
Red lingerie, the color of her hunger, the color of your blood — was this a game to you?
Her mouth watered at the thought of your skin beneath her palms, the scent of you — warm and terrified — of your hair brushing her cheek as she leaned in, her lips parting over the delicate pulse in your throat.
She could feel it already. The way your body would tremble, the way you would squirm and panic and plead.
But her craving was no longer about blood alone, not now. It was about you. About the curve of your back as you undressed, about the heat she imagined searing your skin as you realized what you were doing.
She always knew you were precious in a way none of her preys had ever been before.
Graceful, fragile, wicked. Ripe for the taking.
She wanted to slip inside your house, press her cold fingers to your burning skin, whisper into your ear just how beautifully twisted you truly were.
And you — you, standing there in your red lingerie, knees shaking but chest rising in bold defiance — didn’t even realize you were feeding something much darker than fear before scoffing and turning off the lights, mentally insulting yourself.
The next days passed with no ceremony, but you kept the little ritual. What were you expecting, anyway?
Each evening you tell yourself you won’t do it. You’ll go to bed early. You’ll keep the lights on. You’ll ignore the way the night presses against your windows like a mouth against glass.
But then you catch your own reflection in the mirror — hair mussed, shirt hanging loose on your frame — and the thought comes slithering back:
What if she’s watching?
So you do it again.
Ellie learns this new little routine. Sometimes she had to fight not to laugh — a sharp, delighted sound that would have given her away instantly.
You really were that lonely. That willing.
The monster in her savors it. Every night you step closer to the edge, and every night she imagines stepping forward too — closing the distance, opening the window, pulling herself inside.
Sometimes she does more than imagine. Sometimes she tests how close she can get without being seen. A shadow that wasn’t there before, a faint sound in the yard, the softest scrape of boot against concrete.
And each time, your body reacts. A shudder, a sudden hitch of breath, goosebumps even in the warmth of the sheets.
You tell yourself you’re terrified.
But terror and desire are closer than you’d like to admit.
It's well past midnight when you finally drag yourself to bed. The suburb outside hums faintly, a lullaby too thin to soothe you.
Your bedroom is dim except for the small mirror propped across from your bed. You hadn’t meant to leave it there when you unpacked — it faces you directly, its reflection capturing every twist and turn of your body as you sleep.
You sit on the edge of the mattress for a long time, staring at yourself. Your own eyes look strange in the low light, glinting with something you don’t want to name.
You switch off the lamp.
Darkness folds over the room, thick and complete. The only thing left is the mirror — reflecting the shape of your body under the cover and the faint glimmer of your eyes, wide open.
You keep looking. An instinct won’t let you look away.
Your breathing grows shallow. Your fingers grip the sheets.
The mirror feels like a threshold tonight, like its made of more than glass. As if if you stare hard enough, you might catch a glimpse of the thing that’s been haunting you.
You're alone. Your body,curled in the middle of the bed, is the only thing reflected back at you.
Instead, you feel it. The weight. The shift of the mattress, subtle but unmistakable. The whisper of cold air against the back of your neck, too deliberate to be a draft.
Slowly, like a creature afraid of its own shadow, you turn your head — not toward the mirror, still showing only your lonely shape — but toward the space beside you.
And there she is.
At first, she doesn’t even seem real. Just a suggestion of a figure, darker than the darkness around her, as if the night itself had gathered and shaped itself into something with a face.
But then you feel her. The cold radiating off her skin is sharper than winter air, cutting through the warmth of the blanket. The coppery tang of blood clings to her like perfume, sweet, metallic and dizzying.
She sits so still as death itself, head dipped slightly, a hunter’s patience in every line of her body.
Your pulse hammers against your throat — fast, frantic, almost painful. You can’t move. Can’t even swallow.
Ellie tilts her head toward you, and the shadows part just enough for her eyes to catch the light. It’s not human, the way they glow — that terrible, green brilliance, the kind of brightness that feels both right and wrong.
You are struck silent, breath stalled in your chest, as if your body has forgotten how to be alive in her presence.
She is the most beautiful hallucination you’ve ever seen. Too sharp to be a dream, too impossible to belong to waking life. Your mind scrambles uselessly: am I asleep? am I awake? am I dying?
The terror in you coils tight — but so does something else, something hotter, something that makes your skin prickle as though you’ve been set alight.
When she finally speaks, her voice is low enough to feel rather than hear, a vibration running through your chest.
"Finally," she says.
A cruel little invitation, as though you’d been expecting her all along.
The shift is silent but predatory — the way a shadow creeps across a wall, the way hunger slips under a locked door.
You jerk back instinctively, but her hand moves faster, cold fingers wrapping delicately around your jaw.
"Don’t," she says, almost lazily, as if she’s bored you even tried. Her thumb presses against your chin, tilting your face toward hers until you’re looking straight into those unnatural eyes.
"I’ve been watching you," she murmurs. Her breath is cool when it brushes your cheek. "Every night. But you know that, don’t you?"
Your throat goes dry. You manage the smallest shake of your head — a weak denial, an instinctive plea.
Her mouth curves into a sharp, humorless smile.
"Liar."
The mattress dips as she moves closer, her knees bracketing your thighs. Her other hand presses flat to the center of your chest, pinning you back against the bed with startling strength.
"You undressed in front of the window every night, begging me to come closer. Didn’t you?"
Your breath comes quick, shallow, your body caught between fear and the darker desire that coils low in your belly.
"I—" you start, but she cuts you off, leaning down until her lips are a whisper from your ear.
"You wanted this," she says, the words soft but merciless. "All that pretending you were scared—but I could smell you from the yard. You weren’t scared at all, you were waiting."
Your hands twitch at your sides, trying to push her off, but she doesn’t budge. Her grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you she could break it if she wanted.
"Don’t fight it," Ellie says, quiet and cold. There’s no threat in her tone, just inevitability, as though your resistance is nothing more than a formality before she takes what she’s owed.
Her head tilts again, and for a terrible, suspended moment, she just studies you. The pulse fluttering frantically at your throat, the way your chest heaves under her palm.
"Perfect," she breathes at last, almost to herself.
Then she lowers her face toward your neck.
And strikes.
The pain is blinding. Her fangs sink in with a white-hot sting that rips a gasp from your throat, your back arching off the mattress before her hand flattens you back down again.
"Shhh," she breathes against your neck, her voice almost tender as she drinks, as if this is the only comfort you’ll ever need.
Your fingers clutch helplessly at the sheets, twisting the fabric as the ache spreads, molten and unbearable. Your whole body feels caught between two extremes: the sharpness of the pain and the dizzying heat pooling low.
Your breath stutters, breaks, and then turns into a soft, involuntary moan.
Ellie makes a sound at that — a low, feral noise against your throat — and drinks deeper, her hand sliding from your chest to your waist, holding you in place as your hips twitch helplessly under her weight.
"Knew it," she mutters against your skin, her mouth slick with your blood. "Knew you’d sound like this."
Every pull of her mouth feels like it’s dragging something out of you — not just blood but breath, thought, reason. Your vision swims, darkens at the edges, but you can’t stop the quiet sounds spilling from your lips.
It should scare you, the way you’re melting under her grip, but it doesn’t. It only makes the heat worse, makes your thighs press together as if you could smother the ache between them.
Ellie notices.
Of course she notices.
Her mouth slows, her tongue swiping lazily over the wound before she pulls back just enough to look at you. Her lips are wet, her fangs shining faintly in the dark.
"You liked it," she says, not a question, just a quiet, wicked fact.
You can’t even deny it. Your breath is ragged, pupils blown wide, body trembling with something far from fear.
Ellie smiles then — a sharp, hungry curve of her mouth — and presses her palm lower, right over your stomach, pinning you down in every way that matters.
"Say it," she demands softly.
You swallow, throat dry, the word breaking free before you can stop it.
"Yes."
Ellie’s grin widens, bending down and biting again, drinking deep as you whimper into the dark.
She doesn’t stop until your head feels light, until the pounding of your heart is a dull, faraway sound in your ears. Every pull of her mouth leaves you weaker, more helpless beneath her.
When she finally lifts her head, her breathing is steady — yours is not.
"Perfect," she murmurs, smearing your blood across her mouth with the back of her hand. "Could drain you dry right now. Leave you empty."
Her eyes glint, hungry and cruel.
"You’d let me, wouldn’t you?"
Your lips part, but you can’t form words. You just tremble beneath her, your body answering for you — hips shifting, thighs pressed together.
Her hand slides down your stomach, fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear before you can stop her. Not that you’re trying very hard.
Her touch is cold at first, then devastating as she drags two fingers slowly through the wet heat of you. The sound you make is shameless, needy, your hips jerking up into her hand. Your face burns, humiliation and arousal twisting together until you can’t tell them apart.
Her fingers slow, then drag back, gathering everything slick and warm between your thighs until her hand shines in the faint light.
Ellie pulls her fingers free, holding them up like she’s studying a painting, as though every drop is precious. Her expression is sharp, hungry — and unbearably calm.
Your stomach knots so tightly it almost hurts. Your throat feels like it’s closing, but you force a sound out anyway, a breathless, cracked whisper that surprises even you.
"Who—" your voice breaks, your chest heaving. "Who are you?"
Ellie’s mouth curves, slow and wicked.
"Does it matter?" she asks softly, and before you can answer, she’s already moving down the bed, her weight sliding between your shaking thighs.
"Please—" you manage, unsure if you’re begging her to stop or begging her not to.
Her hands hook under your knees and drag you open with startling strength, your panties peeled down in one smooth, unhurried motion. The cold air hits your skin and you gasp, your body thrumming with terror and something darker that makes your toes curl.
"Don’t look so scared," she murmurs, almost gently. Her voice is softer now, a low sound that sinks into your bones. "I’m not gonna hurt you."
The words should soothe you, but they don’t — not fully. Because you believe her. And that frightens you more than anything.
Your lips part, another shaky whisper breaking free.
"Then why—" your voice catches as she settles between your legs, her breath ghosting over you. "Why does this feel like I’m about to die?"
Ellie glances up, her eyes catching what little light there is.
"Because you are," she says simply, and the smile she gives you is sharp enough to make you tremble — not from fear, but from the terrible, shameful want pooling hot in your stomach.
You barely have time to breathe before she’s lowering her head.
The first swipe of her tongue feels like being struck by lightning. Your whole body jolts, back arching off the mattress, hands flying to the sheets then tangling in her hair, desperate to anchor yourself to something as the shock rolls through you.
Ellie groans against you, a low, guttural sound that seems to vibrate straight into your bones, and licks again — slower this time, savoring you, dragging her tongue up until she finds your clit.
Your hips jerk, an unholy, helpless cry spilling from your throat.
"That’s it," Ellie mutters against your hot core, her voice rough with hunger. "Let them all hear who you belong to."
Her mouth moves with merciless focus, not just tasting you but devouring you, drinking you down like the starving thing she is. You can feel the faint drag of her fangs against your inner thigh as she eats, not enough to pierce but enough to make your last blood pound louder in your ears.
She laps at everything, slow and obscene, and you realize — dizzy, breathless — that she’s savoring it, that this is more than hunger. This is gratitude.
"Fuck," she groans between licks, her words hot and wet against you. "You have no idea what you’re giving me right now."
Her hands grip your thighs tighter, pulling you open wider as if she’s afraid you’ll change your mind, as if she has to hold you in place to keep feasting.
Every stroke of her tongue is deliberate, worshipful, relentless — teasing you until you’re panting, until your thighs are trembling so hard you think you might snap apart.
When her fingers finally slide inside you, it’s almost too much — two of them, cold and sure, curling until they find that spot that makes your vision blur white.
You sob, the sound ripped out of you, but Ellie only groans again, louder this time, the noise vibrating against your clit as she works her tongue harder.
"So good," she whispers against you, her voice breaking into a feral rasp. "You’re so fucking good for me. Bleeding for me. Letting me have you like this."
You want to answer her, tell her yes, tell her anything, but you can’t — your body is too far gone, shaking under her mouth, pleasure ripping through you in violent waves.
The orgasm tears out of you like something primal, leaving you boneless beneath her, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps licking, keeps drinking, keeps making those soft, sinful sounds like she’s thanking you with every swallow.
By the time she finally pulls back, you’re wrecked — trembling and flushed, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
Ellie’s chin and lips are shining, her mouth wet with your slick and blood, her tongue darting out to catch what’s left like she can’t bear to waste it.
"Knew you’d taste better than anyone," she says softly, oddly gentle. Then she leans forward and presses her thumb over the bite on your neck, smearing it in, marking you with the same blood she just drank.
And you can’t deny it — not when your body is still shuddering, not when you can feel the faint wetness cooling on your thighs, not when every nerve ending in you is still sparking like fire.
Ellie smiles down at you like she’s pleased with her own work, and already planning to come back for more.
"You’re mine now,"
She murmurs, and you shudder at the words, already aching for the next time.
lowkey highkey thinking about writing a super angsty alternative collide finale for the 5 month anniversary… for all the girlies who thrive on doom and despair.... like imagine….. the possibilities....
I'm watching a russian Vtuber moaning right now that a UKRAINIAN company doesn't want to work with her and give her awards, and she receives hundreds of positive replies (whose authors then harass Ukrainians), while she literally has these tweets, calling the war "something bad" and has art which based on memes about Putin.
Notice how discrimination of Ukrainians is "we're getting killed by russian missiles daily" and discrimination of russians is "Ukrainians don't want to interact with us". I'm sorry, it was very unthoughtful of me to be born in Ukraine. I'll educate myself to become a better person. I'll choose a place to be born more mindfully next time to not be killed by russian rockets.
I'm tired of internet activists who would rather see a child torn apart by a missile than see a disapproving replay of their 2D waifu. You are sick. "I see bad replays, and now I want Ukraine to lose," you have mental disorders, and unfortunately, no specialist can help you. "It's all trolls, it's all fake," take off your rose-colored glasses and have the strength to admit that the world is full of terrible people. You're not in an anime, and the power of friendship won't help you.
Maybe World War III would open your eyes when your or your father's arm was torn off and your house burned down. "Boo-hoo, don't you dare wish that on others," yet I wish. And I hope it happens sooner or later to all the monsters who wish my people to disappear because of FUCKING PIXELS ON THE INTERNET.
i feel like 'aesthic' and 'place' are a little warped considered I've been doing a lot of pinterest searches for adult lotties aesthic and nats aesthic. oh well
overview ❋ Your girlfriend, Ellie, is a mechanic. For your birthday she bought you your dream car, the car she would fix up for you and make perfect. Your way of showing gratitude was sexual favors—somehow that came back to bite you. But how could you possibly complain?
You and Ellie’s relationship was nothing short of chaotic, ever since the two of you met. You met through her work, since she fixed up your rolling disaster of a car that was probably passed down through three generations.
Not only did she give you a discount, the way her arms looked while she worked on your car had you hot and bothered. The way her baby hairs clung to her forehead, the way she’d wipe the sweat off her face with a rag or the back of her hand—oh yeah, you were down bad!
One thing led to another, and suddenly you were fucking in her much nicer car. You were never one for car sex, but that woman truly changed the game for you. You wrote your number on the panties and gave it to her, an object she kept in a special drawer and often said she wanted in a resin cast. How ridiculous was that? Was that some sort of mechanic thing?
Ellie was everything you wanted in a woman. She was nice, extremely generous, funny, hot, and so u predictable that you found yourself wanting to figure her out. She quickly became the highlight of your life, more so when you moved in with her.
On the day of your birthday, Ellie surprised you with your dream car: a cherry-red 67 mustang. How she obtained this car was beyond you—some mechanic wizard shit for sure. Nonetheless, you were over the moon.
Ellie put so much of her time into that car. She made it perfect for you, even denying some clients just so she could have more time for it. It was the most generous gift you’ve ever received, and it only made you fall for her more.
A few days after the car was all fixed up, you and Ellie had a date planned. You were getting ready in the bathroom, putting on lipgloss and wiping away the mascara you somehow already smudged. You were wearing a black dress, a dress that Ellie loved to see you in the most.
Ellie walked up behind you, hands already finding your waist. She made eye contact with you in the mirror, one side of her lips upturned. “You look so good, babe.” she said, holding you close to her. You could feel the familiar warmth of her body, a comforting warmth you route yourself addicted to.
You smiled in response, your free hand finding one of hers. Her other hand drew small shapes on your hip, juniper eyes glued to yours in the reflection. You looked back at your own eyes, half of your focus on the criminally awful job you did on your mascara. You quickly grabbed a q-tip and fixed it. “Thanks, baby. I’m wearing your favorite dress.” you replied, voice soft and almost seductive.
Ellie hummed, burying her face in your neck and planting a tender kiss on your flesh. “I know, and you look sexy as hell.” she complimented, “You’ll look sexy when I take it off later, too.”
A small laugh fell from your lips, and you started to struggle while putting on your lipgloss. It was almost impossible when she was kissing up your jawline. You pulled your head away, trying to save your skin from Ellie’s attacks. “Right, later. I’m not sitting in a restaurant with hickeys all over my neck.”
Ellie laughed, grabbing your jaw and turning your head to the mirror. “Sure, baby.” she replied, squishing your cheeks a bit and listening to you complain. She turned your head towards her, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. You kissed back of course, eyes closing and all.
You were going to pull away so this didn’t lead elsewhere, but Ellie beat you to it. She brought her thumb up to your face, wiping away the smeared lipgloss. “By the way..” she started, “I want to take your car to the restaurant. But I’d like to drive it.”
You had a puzzled look on your face, eyebrow raised and eyes blinking repeatedly in confusion. “How come you want to drive it? Not gonna let me drive my own car?” you questioned, though there wasn’t any trace of annoyance in your tone. “You must be super jealous of my sexy car.”
Ellie patted your cheek tenderly, “Jus’ wanna try it out. I need to make sure everything is working before I feel comfortable with you driving it.” she explained, tone laced with something like hesitance. Though, there was something else—something hidden that you couldn’t exactly read. But you thought nothing of it, that was her whole brand!
You hummed and nodded, your face puzzled but trusting. “Sure, babe. If that helps you feel comfortable.”
A few minutes later, you were back in the bedroom. You had your new purse open on the bed, that way you could put some essentials in it. You didn’t hear Ellie come up behind you—didn’t need to. She hugged you from behind again, a gesture you had grown used to.
Her hands were on you, though you just kept stuffing emergency pads and tampons into your purse. “What’re you being so touchy for?” you asked, the corners of your lips turning up “Not complaining, but you’re more touchy than usual. Especially before a date. Are you ovulating?”
Ellie didn’t answer your question, she kissed your shoulder and let her hands rest on your front. Then, she finally said something. “Hey, remember that time I was fixing up your car and you snuck up behind me?” she asked
You raised an eyebrow, trying to turn your head back a bit to look at her. “Which time?”
“The time you shoved that bullet vibrator inside me when I was wearing shorts.”
You nearly choked, you almost forgot you did that! The fact she was bringing that up made you worry—so you decided to act innocent.
Well, as innocent as a guilty woman could act.
“You told me to try it out on you whenever.” you retorted, making no attempts to pull away from her. You didn’t have to look behind you to see that she was smiling. You could feel it in the way the air shifted. The shift in energy between the two of you with your bodies so close.
“You’re right, baby.” she murmured in your ear, sending tingles down your spine. “But while I’m working on your gift? Such a bad girl.”
You hummed and shut your purse, picking it up. But Ellie took it from your hands, setting it to the side. She then pushed you down a bit, bending you over on the bed. You protested in confusion, trying to look back at her.
“Shh, be quiet for me, sweetheart. I’m gonna do something, so just stay still, yeah?” she whispered, but you could feel the weight of her words pressing on you. If you weren’t already wet—you definitely were now. You heard her shuffle through her pockets, not even being able to fathom what she was going to do. But you couldn’t help but feel a bit excited, it was that feeling of uncertainty she provided that you loved.
You then felt something cold against the open part of your dress, though you couldn’t make out what it was. Before you could further question anything, she grabbed the hem of your dress and hiked it up. You yelped in surprise, body jolting in response to the cold air.
That’s when you felt it, her fingers pulling your panties to the side and pressing something against your folds. She scoffed behind you, but it was out of amusement and most likely excitement. “Ugh, so wet for me like always. And I haven’t even done anything.”
Right. As if she wasn’t perfectly being touchy to get you wet. But what did she need you wet for? To push this thing inside you?
Ellie then started to push it inside you. You groaned softly at the feeling, not completely ready. But you let her keep sliding it in, despite your initial confusion. Now you knew exactly what it was. The bullet vibrator—the same one you shoved inside Ellie not so long ago. You involuntarily clenched around it, even though it wasn’t turned on the small amount of friction had you craving more.
“That’s it, baby. Feel that?” she asked, patting your lower back softly. “If I remember correctly, you said I could always try it on you too.” There was a heavy weight to the room now, lust intertwined with excitement and nerves.
“But this is a new one. Just for you.”
A new one? Did she seriously buy another one? Now you were really confused. More so, since it wasn’t already vibrating. Did she put a dead vibrator inside you? What the hell was going on?
Ellie pulled your dress back down into place, leaning over you and pressing her front against your ass. She was practically laying on you, but it got you so needy for some reason. She placed her phone in front of you, calloused fingers holding it tightly. “Look at this, baby.” she rasped lowly in your ear, clicking a button on some app.
That’s when it hit you: vibrations. You immediately gasped and lowered your head, breath caught in your throat. “F-fuck..Ellie!” you whined, both in surprise and from the pleasure. You gripped the sheets involuntarily, the wet sound between your legs was a bit embarrassing. So kind of her to start you off on one of the highest settings.
“Cool toy, huh?” she asked, finally turning it off. She rubbed your cheek softly from behind, loving the way you panted. She turned off her phone, getting off you and pulling you up so you could stand.
Your thighs were already trembling, so you leaned back against her in support. “Ellie, we are going somewhere. Somewhere nice, might I add.” you tried to scold. “And a whole app? That’s ridiculous!”
Ellie just patted your shoulder and turned you around. She had an innocent smile on her face, it was cute how giddy she looked. Oh, how exciting. Getting to shove a vibrator in your girlfriend before a date. Now you were actually nervous, what if she turned it on while you were eating and you choked? Before you could warn her of this very possible disaster—she spoke first.
“Well, we have to get going. Get your shoes, baby.” she said, nodding towards the closet. You gave her a weak scowl, walking towards your closet to get your waiting heels anyway.
When you bent down to grab your heels, you felt it again. The buzz inside your pussy had an effect on your brain too. Your knees almost gave out, forcing you to grab onto the wall to hold yourself up as your legs shook beneath you. You let out a weak moan, looking back at her and trying to look mad. She laughed behind you, quickly turning it off. “Sorry, sweetheart. Couldn’t help myself.” she giggled, putting her phone in her pocket. “Don’t get too mad at me, I’m buying you dinner.”
You scoffed and slipped your feet into your heels, trying to act angry still as to conceal your nerves and the twinge of excitement settled in your stomach. “I’ll be as mad as I want, thanks.” you replied angrily, grabbing your purse and walking ahead of her.
In the car, you sat calmly and looked at the road ahead. You were humming some song the radio wasn’t even playing and admiring the interior of the car. It was everything you dreamed up, you could see the cherry-red coloring on the hood of the car, making you giggle a bit. Mainly because Ellie got you something she knew you’d love, something she knew she could make special for you. That kind of thought meant a lot, it made you feel seen and heard. Because she remembered, because she worked so hard just to make you happy.
That kind of love was so pure and so raw it was almost overbearing. But it was the kind of overbearing you craved and adored—but only with Ellie. You felt so warm and light that you completely forgot about the toy inside you. That is until you shifted.
Ellie looked over for a split second, she always struggled to keep her eyes on the road. How could she? She had her beautiful girlfriend beside her in the sexiest dress known to man. “What’re you giggling for? Like your present?” she questioned, as if it weren’t obvious.
You hummed and nodded, smile plastered on your face. “Mm, yeah.” you couldn’t even hold back the happy grin on your face. Didn’t need to.
Ellie loved seeing you all happy. But was she about to ruin this moment? Absolutely. But..she was letting you marinate in your excitement. For now.
When the next red light came, Ellie grabbed her phone. You thought nothing of it, assuming she was just checking a test or something. Until you felt it yet again, that overwhelming pleasurable feeling that would’ve knocked you off your feet if you weren’t sitting down. Those vibrations deep in your cunt that sucked all the air out of your lungs. She started it off low, as if it was some warm up. Your hand flew over your mouth, thighs squirming ever so slightly as if it would make the feeling stop. But it didn’t, and you didn’t want it to.
“Ellie, are you serious? I’m gonna be soaked by the time we get there!” you complained, though it wasn’t a real complaint. It felt so good, the pleasure was measurable but still so, so good. You were pulsing, your panties and the clenching of your hole keeping the toy nestled deep inside your aching pussy.
From the driver’s seat there was a laugh. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.” she replied, tone cool and level in a way that made you feel slightly insecure. The light was green, so Ellie stepped on the gas pedal again and focused on the road. Well, half-focused on the road.
You sat there helplessly, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure throughout your whole body. Before you could even plead for more, she turned the frequency up. You jolted up, a weak cry crawling out of your throat. You grabbed onto the armrest, the jump in feeling heightening all your senses at once. Your nerves were on fire, your whole brain felt like it was shutting down.
“E-Ellie!” you cried out, hand scrambling to her forearm. You panted heavily, squeezing your eyes shut. No matter how much you shifted your body and squirmed, the feeling never left.
Ellie sighed, struggling to not give you her full attention. “Oh, I know baby.” she cooed, smiling when you desperately grabbed her arm. “I know you can take it, but squeezing your thighs together won’t help you.”
“Shouldn’t you..g-get off your phone and focus on the road?” you challenged, voice coming out weaker than you had intended.
“Shouldn’t you be a good girl and take it like you said you would? Keep mouthing off and see what happens.” she threatened, you knew all too well that her words weren’t entirely empty. Before you could even try to come up with an argue, the tires of your car hit a pothole—sending your body up a bit. The toy moved inside you, as if it was a little thrust.
You gasped and dug your nails into Ellie’s tatted forearm. “F-fuck!—“ you whined, your thighs starting to shake. It was all too much, you were overwhelmed in the best way possible. The toy worked your sopping pussy just like it was supposed to, but it felt so perfect. Ellie turned it up again, all you could do was let out weak strings of moans and pleads.
“Ellie..please. I can’t do it!” you said between pathetic moans. But you didn’t want her to turn it down, you were in too much bliss. You tried to shift again, but it was useless. Your pussy was spasming around the toy, even though you hadn’t came yet.
Ellie clicked her tongue, one side of her lips more upturned than the other. Her green eyes were focused on the road, but her thoughts were aimed elsewhere. They were aimed to the right of her, to her girlfriend who was squirming and whining in the car she bought. Moaning like a bitch in the car she fixed, to say that was an ego boost wasn’t strong enough. “Is that really how you feel? You’re moaning like a slut and begging me. You want less?”
“Okay, baby. I’ll turn it down since it’s too much for you.”
You let out a sob, followed by surprisingly zero tears. You shook your head feverishly, eyes flying open. “No, no! Don’t turn it down!” you cried, squeezing your thighs together as if the toy would fall out because of her words. As if she’d pull it out of you and take away the pleasure you so desperately needed.
“Ask properly and I’ll consider it.” she replied almost immediately, looking away from the road since there was another red light. Her eyes zeroed in on your form. You had a fucked out look on your face; lips parted and eyes hazy. She loved when you looked like that—in fact, she craved it. Ellie would do absolutely anything to get that expression on your pretty face.
Some kind of weak noise left you, you swallowed hard and tried to form a coherent thought. “P-please don’t turn it off. Please!” you pleaded desperately, breath coming out in short pants and whines.
“Yeah? You wanna cum, huh?” she murmured, earning her a nod on your behalf. Ellie leaned in a bit closer to you just so she could see your pretty face. She hummed and stepped on the gas again, looking forward. It was a struggle looking away from you, you looked heavenly.
“Touch yourself, baby. You have two hands, don’t you?” She urged, listening to you whine and heating you squirm on the seat.
Yet, you complied. Your free hand wandered south, fingers racing to your puffy clit underneath your beautiful dress. You found the nub, putting pressure on it and jolting up. You were already overwhelmed—adding this had you in shambles. “Oh god—oh!” you whimpered pathetically, drawing small circles over your clit.
The noises you were making were downright sinful, they poured out of you like a running faucet. She hit another pothole—maybe on purpose—either way you jolted. Your nails dug into her arm, you didn’t notice the change in frequency until you nearly choked on your moan when it happened. She was turning it up and down, toying with you. Your fingers stuttered on your clit, brain short circuiting.
“You’re such a dirty girl. I want you to make these nice, new seats so messy.” Ellie groaned, her hands involuntarily gripping the wheel tighter.
You were getting close, your body was already preparing for it. Juices were dripping down from your sopping hole, getting the seat a bit sticky—just how she wanted. You removed your fingers from from your cunt. You angled your hips and pushed your pussy against the seat a bit to get friction on your clit, there was an embarrassing squelch from how soaked you were. It was like an endless stream, along with your moans. The vibrations coursing through your sobbing pussy were satisfying in the way that felt euphoric. Even though you had a death grip on Ellie’s arm—you felt bliss.
“E-Ellie..Els, baby. I’m close…” you moaned, moving to squeeze your thighs together again. You were a mess, and your girlfriend loved it.
Ellie side glanced you, biting her lip to control herself. The urge to pull over and fuck your brains out was so, so tempting. But something about having to control herself was hot too. She took one hand off the wheel, placing it on your thigh and spreading your legs apart a bit. She wanted you to soak the seat, to soak the brand new seats of car that was yours. The spot she manufactured for you.
“Oh, baby. If you wanna cum you have to ask for permission. You know that.” she cooed, rubbing your thigh softly.
A whine left your throat, especially when she turned down the toy by one notch—then two—then three. You could feel it, but it still had a strong hold on you.
“Baby, please? Please, I wanna cum. I-I need it!” you begged between pants, when you looked over you could see the smirk she tried to bite back. She failed, a lopsided grin blessing her already attractive features.
“Yeah? Do you deserve it?” she questioned, pointer tapping against your inner thigh. She collected a small dribble of slick, it stuck to her finger and stretched a bit, but she didn’t look.
You blinked and whined again, squirming an unfair amount. “I don’t know..just please let me!” you pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.
“You don’t know? Try again, sweetheart.” She turned the vibrator down, ignoring your pleas and cries. It was almost at the lowest setting now—she was just torturing you at this point.
A single tear fell from your eyes, it was from pure desperation. “I-I deserve it! Please, please, please!” you cried, the neediness in your tone was painfully obvious.
“You deserve what? You can’t be shy when you’re begging to cum while having a vibrator inside you.” she teased, turning it back up a few notches.
When you felt her turn it up, you got desperate. All the shame and embarrassment seemed to seep out with your slick. “I deserve to cum..please!”
Ellie groaned and bit the inside of her cheek, her on clit throbbing against her pants. “Good girl, go ahead.”
With a sharp cry and the intense squirming of your thighs, you came. Your back arched off the chair, pleads of her name falling from your lips. To say the seat was a mess was an understatement. But you didn’t care, and neither did she. You panted, feeling the toy ultimately turn off after she let you ride it out.
But after seeing you cum—it hit her. She needed her hands on you, she needed to fuck you in this car, she needed that contact so bad. She needed to watch you crumble, just the way she liked. The thoughts swarmed her head, though they weren’t unwelcome.
Ellie couldn’t take it anymore and pulled over on the side of the road—though, it was pretty secluded. When she looked over, she saw your beautiful expression. Your half lidded eyes, your parted lips, your baby hairs sticking to your forehead—all of it. It was that expression she loved to see so much. The expression that fueled her to keep going.
“You’re being so good, baby.” she praised, the hand that was on your thigh came up to your head. She stroked your hair softly, then moved to cup your cheek so you were looking at her. If there was one gesture Ellie loved—it was eye contact. She loved your pretty eyes focusing on hers, especially since your eyes were just so expressive.
Ellie rubbed your cheek softly, and you looked at her with hazy eyes. “Take the toy out. I’m gonna prepare something.” she ordered softly, the teasing in her voice was gone now. She seemed more tender now, as if she just wanted to take care of you.
You obeyed. hand sliding between your legs and pushing your panties to the side. You groaned as you reached into your pussy with two fingers and pulled the toy out. You were overstimulated, causing another stray tear to roll down your cheek.
When you looked back over, Ellie had one of her straps attached to her body.
Did she keep one in the center console? This was your car, what the hell!
Ellie smiled and patted her lap, urging you to come sit. But before you found move, she grabbed the little bullet vibrator from your hands and slid it down her pants. She placed it against her clit, panties keeping it secure there. A groan escaped her when she felt your leftover wetness slosh against her clit.”
“Cmere, baby.” she ordered, patting her lap again. You listened like before, your thighs shaking as you crawled over the center console to get to her. You hovered over the silicone, staring at her with hazy, lust filled eyes. Ellie stared back, not blinking even once. She placed a hand on your hips, trying to urge you to start.
You blinked and nodded, putting your hands on her shoulders before sinking down on her dick. Your lips parted, head tipping back as you sucked her in favorably. Ellie groaned at the sight, reaching for her phone and turning on the vibrator.
The both of you moaned at the same time, and she finally placed both hands on your hips to keep you stable. “That’s it, baby. You’re taking it so well. Can you go a bit deeper?”
You nodded, looking at her with eyes that spoke the words you couldn’t. So full of love and adoration. What was better was how hers reflected back. You kept eye contact with her as you sank further down, the silicone sliding deeper inside you. Eventually you were as far down as you could be, your thighs shaking “Mmh..fuck..” you moaned softly, moving to bury your face in her neck.
That’s when she started to bounce you up and down, before you could even start doing it yourself. She couldn’t control herself when you looked so perfect like that. “Shit..my pretty girl. God, you’re unreal.” she moaned, turning the vibrator up as it hummed against her clit pleasurably.
You moaned into her neck, kissing and biting at it as you rolled your hips on your own. Maybe this was your way of avoiding eye contact. But it seemed to work—Ellie did have such a sensitive neck. You kissed up her sweet spot, sucking on it gently and listening to her moan.
“Just like that. keep riding it, baby. Take me.”
“Ellie..feels s’good..”
“Mhm? You like getting fucked in your dream car? My baby is so filthy.”
“I know I am..I’m so fucking filthy. Please help me go faster..”
That was the conversation—all breathy and sweet. Ellie bounced you up and down quicker, leaving you almost unable to make out with her neck anymore. You were hopelessly moaning into the skin, unable to muffle everything. When Ellie heard, she pulled you away from her neck and made you look at her.
“I wanna hear you, don’t muffle your moans. You sound so fuckin’ sweet.” she rambled, absolutely obsessed with how needy you sounded. Your pussy soaked the silicone, sucking it in greedily. It was hitting the perfect spot every time, returning you to that almost euphoric state like before.
“Can you moan my name, sweetheart?” Ellie asked, but her voice was so fucking desperate. She bounced you faster, looking at you the whole time.
You grabbed her phone from the side, turning up the vibrator nudged against her clit. She moaned and nearly rolled her eyes back, she couldn’t handle all of this. You couldn’t even speak if you wanted to, she was absolutely ruining your aching pussy by how hard she was slamming you down. You cried out arching against her and letting out sweet whines right in her ear.
Ellie pulled you back again, making you look at her. “Baby, moan it.” she ordered again, though her voice was more desperate now.
Your eyes struggled to stay in place, jaw slack and fingers digging into your girlfriend’s shoulders. “E-El..fuck!” you whimpered, your head tilting back.
Ellie took one hand off your hips, since you were moving fast on your own now. She grabbed your jaw, keeping your focus on her. You looked at her half lidded, jaw melting in her hands as you rolled your hips impossibly.
“Moan it, try again.”
“Elli—god!”
“Baby, come on.”
“E-Ellie..please!”
That’s what did it for her, right when you moaned her name she came. She grabbed your hips and dug her fingertips into the flesh, head falling against you as she moaned and shook with pleasure.
Seeing her finish had an effect on you, causing you to follow. You buried your head into her shoulder, “Ellie, Ellie!” you cried, desperately rolling your hips as you rode it out. There was a ring around the base of the strap now, your slick on her lap as well.
You sat there for a while, just holding each other. Ellie kept you on her, despite your pussy spasming and crying with overstimulation. You didn’t even try to move, weak whines leaving you every time you moved an inch. Though, you did remember to turn the vibrator off.
Ellie reached into the glovebox, grabbing a pair of gym shorts. You raised an eyebrow, face still fucked out. “What’s that for?”
She looked at you, expression serious as ever. “I need to change my pants, you got them messy.” she explained, looking down and biting back a smirk.
You nearly had an aneurysm. You could NOT let this woman wear gym shorts to a fancy restaurant “Are you crazy?! You’re not wearing those.”
Then it hit you—the reservation!
You gasped and weakly lifted yourself off the silicone, slick clinging onto you. You plopped down in your chair—getting it messy once again. “Weren’t we supposed to be there 20 minutes ago?!”
Ellie scoffed and smiled, looking over at you and trying not to laugh. “I lied to you about the time, We have ten minutes still.”
You blinked at her and sighed, rubbing your forehead like a movie character. “Right, because you planned this.” you mumbled “But still, you can’t wear those.”
⭑ content warnings: sub!reader x top!ellie, oral sex (r!receiving), tit play, shower sex, hair dye/bleach antics, stablished relationship, fake blonde ellie…?? (we TWININ), DUMB AF so im sorry in advance, AFAB reader. MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes, reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖
header edited by my beloved @satellitespinner <3 ilysm
you’re both barefoot in the kitchen when ellie casually drops the bomb — still lounging in pajamas despite the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, leftover pancakes going cold on the counter.
she's perched on the edge of the table, one leg swinging lazily, syrup smeared on the corner of her mouth. she tucks a strand of auburn behind her ear and tosses it out like it’s just a passing thought, as if it doesn’t hold any significance and its not going to make your brain immediately short-circuit.
“thinkin’ of going blonde.”
you freeze mid-sip, nearly choking as the coffee stalls halfway to your lips, sloshing dangerously close to disaster.
“blonde?!”
she nods peacefully, licking maple off her thumb. “like… white-trash, on-the-run, don’t-ask-me-where-i-came-from blonde. bottle blonde. the kind of blonde that makes people suspicious.”
you nearly choke. again. “jesus.”
she grins at you, wide and unrepentant. “what? you don’t think it’d be hot?”
“i think you’d look like you just crashed a car into a liquor store.”
she squints. “so like... hot.”
you finally let yourself giggle, stepping between her knees. “okay, then. we can call the salon, get you an appointment for next week—”
but ellie’s already shaking her head, fingers catching in your belt loops, tugging you closer. “nope,” she says, voice a little too self-assured. “i want you to do it.”
you blink. “me?”
“you.”
you narrow your eyes, still not entirely convinced this isn’t another one of your stupid girlfriend’s even stupider jokes. “ellie, i’m not a hairdresser.”
“babe, that’s like, the whole point!”
“you’re going to regret saying that when your hair starts melting off.” you deadpan, as if you need to remind her—and maybe yourself—that this could end in flames. literally.
she leans in, syrup still on the corner of her lips. “then i’ll just have to let you shave it. britney spears era. bald and unhinged.”
you roll your eyes but snort despite the scenery currently unfolding. “you’re insane.”
“maybe, but at least i’ll be iconic.”
you sigh, the sound resigned and dramatic, accepting the doom of your fate as you reach for your keys.
“god help me. if your scalp falls off, we’re breaking up.”
and you don't exactly know how or when you ended in this position, but now a plastic drugstore bag hangs off the doorknob, bloated with bleach kits, toning shampoo, a rat-tail comb you spent five minutes trying to identify in aisle nine, and gloves that are definitely too big for your hands.
ellie’s in a tank top, hair damp and messy, neck freckled and pink from where you’d kissed her earlier on the couch. she’s sitting backwards on the closed toilet lid, a towel around her shoulders, smirking at her reflection like a girl who knows she’s about to do something really dumb and can’t wait to see how it turns out.
you snap on the gloves and shake the bleach kit in your hands, then mix the developer and powder in a little plastic bowl, the smell burning sharp at the back of your throat while ellie watches you with a mix of amusement and affection.
you start slow. your legs drape across her lap, bare skin against bare skin, knees bent on either side of her hips as you settle above her thighs. the bathroom’s too small, too warm, and the smell of hydrogen peroxide hangs thick in the air — sharp and chemical, biting the inside of your nose until your eyes turn watery.
her tank is somehow already spotted with bleach, little constellations of chaos splattered across the fabric. you’re in your sleep shirt—old, oversized, barely hanging off one shoulder—the hem brushing against her thigh every time you shift in her lap. her fingers rest lightly on your hips.
the bowl of toner teeters dangerously on the counter behind you, and the cheap plastic brush trembles in your grip like it knows it's not nearly qualified for this task.“ellie. this is a terrible idea,” you murmur. “i’m scared.”
“good. keeps you humble.”
“you keep talking like that and i’m giving you leopard spots.”
“kinky.”
“shut up.”
she hums, eyes flicking up to yours. “you’re the one who sat on me.”
“you said it’d be easier!”
“i lied. i just wanted your ass on me.”
you snort and try not to smile, but it pulls at your mouth anyway.
your fingers finally slide into her hair — soft, parted sloppily into sections with the comb that now lives somewhere on the floor. you start with the pieces that frame her face, brushing them forward so they hang loose near her cheeks.
ellie tips her chin up, lets her eyes fall shut.
you gather a lock in your gloved fingers, and begin painting the bleach from root to tip, watching it soak in like white-out on a dark page. the paste glows faintly under the light, ghostly against the reddish-brown of her natural color.
her hands flex against your hips when you lean forward to reach the next strand. your breath ghosts her skin and her lips part, letting out a shaky exhale.
“this is kinda hot,” she murmurs, voice low, like she’s saying it more to herself than to you. “you touching me all careful... fucking up my hair... feels so intimate.”
your fingers still for a second before you glance at her, eyes flicking down to her flushed cheeks, to the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“you’re so weird.” you whisper.
“mm,” she shrugs. “you love it.”
you dip the brush again while rolling your eyes, smearing bleach through the next section. her hair begins to clump in pale-violet streaks, turning lighter with each stroke, and still — she doesn’t move. just sits there, legs parted, your weight balanced on top of her.
you take your time with the strands at the back, working slowly — more confident than when you started, but still careful. ellie’s hair isn’t long, not enough to make this a real ordeal, just soft tufts and uneven layers that cling to your gloves as you drag the mixture through.
you angle closer, chest pressing forward as you lean in to reach the base of her skull.
ellie shifts, straightening a little, and your chest brushes her cheek. barely, just a graze — the soft curve of your breasts against her jaw as you tilt her head forward with one hand, using the other to get a clean angle on the last section at the nape of her neck.
her skin prickles under the contact. you pretend not to notice, but your breath catches.
she doesn't say anything — just blinks up at you through a low-lidded haze, eyes flicking from your mouth to your collarbone, then back again as your gloved thumb pushes a damp piece of hair away.
her breath ghosts over your sternum, warm and shallow.
“you know...” you say lowly, tone light as you coat the final piece and pull away “if this goes bad, you owe me a blowjob.”
she laughs, loud and bright. “deal.”
you raise an eyebrow. “that was really fast.”
“yeah, well. i was gonna do it anyway.”
your mouth curves, “so if it goes good?”
“you get two.”
you hum and toss the brush in the sink, then settle your hands on her shoulders and let your thumb slide beneath the edge of the towel, brushing the warm skin just beneath her collarbone.
“deal, then.”
thirty minutes later, the bleach is rinsed out, the chaos contained—barely—and you’re kneeling on the bathroom tiles like some half-mad alchemist, bowl of purple toner in your lap, gloved fingers coated in violet as you run them gently through strands of half-dry and now light hair.
ellie sits in front of you on a stool dragged in from the hallway, legs wide, topless. a towel hangs low around her waist, her skin still flushed from the heat of the water, freckled breasts rising and falling with slow, amused breaths. her hair, damp and golden, catches the light like a star.
you coat the last piece near her temple, careful to avoid her ear this time. she’d made a scene—more like a full oscar-winning production—when bleach slipped into it earlier, clutching the sink like she’d been shot, insisting she could “hear her secrets and sins fizzing in her brain.”
and earlier—god. when the bleach started to tingle, that slow sting blooming across her scalp, you caught the tiniest flicker of panic in her eyes. she blinked fast, jaw clenched, clearly trying to channel the spirit of someone braver, like a soldier in a war movie or a guy about to get a tattoo he can’t afford to back out of. “’m fine,” she snapped, sitting up straighter like good posture was gonna cancel out the chemical burn.
you leaned down to check on her, already suspicious, and yep—her lashes were wet. not full tears, but just the subtle, heartbreaking shimmer of someone trying very hard to act unbothered while her scalp was on fire.
“my eyes are just sensitive,” she mumbled before you could even say anything. “from the light. or the bleach fumes. or the political climate in this godforsaken country.”
“done!” you say, sitting back on your heels, peeling the gloves off with a snap. “you need to let that sit for a few minutes before we rinse.”
ellie turns her head just enough to glance at you over her shoulder, and her lips twitch. “rinse it how?”
“sink, same as before.”
but she doesn't stand up. instead, her hand reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist, thumb pressing into the damp skin just beneath your pulse point.
“orrrr...” she says, voice sly, “we could just… get in the shower.”
you laugh under your breath, pretending not to feel the way your stomach flips.
“we, huh? you tryna rinse your toner and get laid at the same time? i kinda like this concept of multitasking.”
she shrugs, grinning. “i’m a woman of efficiency.”
then she pulls you gently, slowly, into her. your knees slot between hers, hands finding the curve of her jaw, and when she kisses you—it’s warm, wet, familiar in a way that still knocks the wind out of you. her lips are soft but purposeful, still sticky with the remnants of laughter, still tasting faintly of spearmint and syrup.
and when she breaks away, breathless, eyes lidded, she mumbles against your mouth, “c’mon. before i start leaking purple.”
you both strip with clumsy fingers and half-choked giggles, bumping into walls and knocking over shampoo bottles, and then the curtain’s drawn, and the shower hisses to life around you.
the water starts cool, then warms with a soft hiss, steam curling up in a pale cloud. ellie steps in first, the purple streaks in her hair darkening under the spray, trailing lavender rivers down her spine. she leans back into it with a sigh, hands slicking her hair through, letting the water do its slow, messy magic.
you step in after her, shivering once before the heat wraps around you. your hands find her waist, thumbs brushing the edge of her ribs as you guide her under the stream. she leans into you without hesitation, her back flush against your chest now, body molten and relaxed under your touch.
the toner spills in violet spirals down her back, swirling around your feet like ink dropped into glass.
your fingers comb through her hair, careful not to tug. you take your time, dragging your nails gently along her scalp, and she tilts her head back with a soft groan.
“jesus,” she whispers. “keep doin’ that and i’m gonna forget my own name.”
you smile into the curve of her shoulder, mouth kissing the heat-softened skin there as your fingers work slow through her hair, chasing out the last ribbons of purple until the water runs clear.
you pull back just enough to look at her, to see her.
and for a second, you forget how to breathe.
“ellie,” you whisper, cupping her cheek, guiding her to face you fully. the droplets catch on her lashes, her freckled nose, the strong line of her jaw. her wet hair—pale now, streaked silver-gold and damp—frames her face like moonlight.
you run your thumb just beneath her eye, slow and careful. “it looks amazing.”
ellie blinks, caught off guard for half a second. “really?”
you nod, breath hitching in your throat. “yeah. like… dangerously hot. borderline illegal.”
she grins, tongue poking behind her teeth. “that’s the goal.” she then leans closer, dragging her hands down your waist. “so, just to be clear—you’re saying I look good.”
“i’m saying you look too good,” you murmur, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, smug now. “which means…”
ellie raises an eyebrow, amused. “means what?”
you tilt your head, pretend to think, then smirk.
“means I remember our deal, blondie.”
ellie’s smirk falters, shifts, melts into something heavier.
her fingers tighten at your waist, grip no longer playful, and her gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth, then lower—dragging over the slope of your throat, the shine of your collarbone, the way water clinging to the swell of your breasts like it’s worshiping them. every drop catches the light, turns your bare skin into something untouchable.
“fuck,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “look at you.”
you lift your chin, teasing. “if you’re backing out of our agreement—”
but you don’t get to finish— because ellie’s already reaching for you.
her hands slide up your sides, fingers wet and firm, and she pulls you in with a slow, hungry kind of gravity. her mouth crashes into yours like she’s starved for it, like kissing you is the only thing keeping her upright. it’s deep, messy, all tongue and breath and the soft hitch of your moan when her teeth catch your bottom lip. you melt into her instantly, hands threading through the damp strands of her light hair.
she backs you into the shower wall without breaking the kiss, one hand cradling your jaw while the other drags down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. her mouth pulls away only to breathe—quick, ragged—and then she’s kissing down, open-mouthed along your throat, sucking just beneath your ear, where your pulse hammers loud and fast.
and then lower.
her tongue traces a path between your breasts, slow and reverent, and when her mouth closes around your nipple, you gasp sharply. the suction is immediate, her tongue flicking, lips pulling softly, and she groans low in her throat like she needs it —like the taste of you is making her lose focus. her hand cups the other breast, thumb dragging across the peak, pinching just enough to make your hips twitch against her.
she alternates between the two, teasing, sinking her teeth in just enough to sting. your head tips back against the tile, breath shaky, fingers buried in her damp hair. water drums against your back, hot and rhythmic, but it’s background now. the only thing you really feel is her.
her hands glide down the backs of your thighs, anchoring you with a firm grip, and her mouth trails heat down your stomach, open kisses scattered across your skin.
she presses her lips just above your hipbone and pauses, looking up through soaked lashes, green irises dark and hooded, and catches you staring down at her—wide-eyed, wrecked, completely gone. her blonde hair’s slick and wild, sticking to her forehead, strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. you don’t even try to hide how ruined you look.
“what?” she murmurs, voice thick and warm, lips grazing your skin like a spell.
you brace your palm against the tile behind you, heart racing, thighs already trembling.
“fuck… i’m just not used to you blonde,” you whisper, voice cracking halfway through. “you look—”
she cuts you off with a quiet hum, something close to a growl.
“you will,” she mutters, and then her hands are back on you—firm, sure, rough in all the right ways. she grips the underside of your thigh, lifts, and pushes your knee in her shoulder, sudden, a little filthy, a lot intimate. the cold of the tile seeps into your back while your whole front lights up under her touch.
“you’ll get used to seeing it,” she whispers, eyes dark and gleaming, her mouth inches from where you need her. “especially between your legs.”
your breath punches out of you like she knocked the air from your lungs.
and before you can try to reply, her tongue parts you slowly, the flat of her tongue dragging through your folds with maddening precision. she groans as soon as she tastes you, the sound vibrating against your skin and making your hips jerk in her grip, making her hands anchor them as her mouth moves deeper, sloppier.
you grab at her hair, tugging gently—like you need something to hold onto, like the earth is tilting. your hips twitch forward, but she keeps holding you steady, mouth greedy and reverent all at once, licking into you like she’s trying to etch herself into the most vunerable part of you.
“jesus, ellie—fuck!—”
she moans low, the vibration buzzing straight through you, and the sound she makes is nothing short of worship.
she works you open with her mouth, slow then sharp, mouth sucking and tongue flicking on your clit, every movement matched to the ragged sound of your breath. she whimpers into you when you pull her hair, when your thighs begin to tremble, when you gasp her name as if it’s a secret slipping out. “ellie! im—”
“c’mon, love. let me have it.” she rasps, pulling back just enough to drag her tongue up your slick heat. her lips glisten, her voice is wrecked.
you cry out, grinding down against her mouth without thinking, and she meets you there—matching every frantic motion, letting you ride it out until your vision whites out, your knees go weak, your whole body collapsing into the tiles like you were built to fall for her.
and still, her mouth lingers. slow, soothing now.
and you finally look down again—see her hair dripping, lips swollen, freckles slick with steam and want—you can’t help but laugh, breathless and slightly delirious.
“what?” she murmurs, smiling against your skin, breath still warm, lips brushing the inside of your thigh.
she keeps you in a trance, dazed, jaw slack, voice barely there. “you look even hotter from down there.”
her teeth catches her bottom lip. she already knows the effect she’s having.
“then I’ll stay right here,” she says, and sinks her mouth back into you.
࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ the girls from the server bullied me into writing this LMAOOO i swear it’s so dumb i’m actually logging OFF. they saw ONE (1) blonde ellie pfp and immediately lost all sense of self-control. it was over before it began. and listen… i’m a giver. a woman of the people. i live to serve. they basically own me at this point. anyway i hope you all enjoyed the chaos i just dropped, consider it a gift from your local server clown 🤍 love you all endlessly <3
