⊹ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬— Ellie Williams was always off-limits—your brother’s best friend, the girl who grew into your every fantasy and every rule you were never supposed to break. But years of glances, grazes, and games combust when she finally follows you down the hall. One party, one bathroom, and a decade of tension detonate behind a locked door.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭— 7.5k
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬— bbf!top!ellie x sub!reader, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), strap-on sex, semi-public bathroom sex, near-caught kink, ass slapping, tit play, rough sex, rachel and dina being iconic, soft power play, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated.
Ellie Williams.
Your brother’s best friend. She’d been orbiting your life for as long as you could remember—sometimes barely noticeable, sometimes all you could see.
The one who never knocked. Who slid the door open like she owned the place, who kicked her sneakers off in the hallway, trailing dirt and laughter in her wake. Backpack slinging over her shoulder, controller dangling from her fingers, her voice already spilling down the corridor before she was even in the room.
You were younger, two years that mattered so much back then. Enough to keep you at the periphery, tolerated but not invited. You’d linger in the doorway of his room, pretending you had a reason to be there. Pretending you weren’t just there to ogle her.
Thirteen, your hair in a crooked braid, still fumbling with eyeliner and chipped nail polish when you first met her. The door opened and there she was—fifteen, all elbows and knees and freckled cheeks, auburn hair pulled back, sitting cross-legged with her whole body leaning toward the screen.
“Yo,” she muttered without looking up, thumbs flying, the glow of pixels flashing against her soft jaw. “Who's this?”
“My sister,” your brother said, shoving another chip into his mouth. “Ignore her.”
And then she turned. Sharp green eyes, a curl of her mouth, one dimple flashing.
“Ellie.”
It took less than a second before her head went back to the screen. A name she tossed like it was nothing, never imagining how much it stuck, how it pressed into your chest like a brand. That dizzy ache, that quickening pulse—you felt it before you even had a name for what it meant.
At first, it was harmless, dumb. A crush you hid in notebooks and in the way you lingered too long. You noticed everything: the way her socked foot tapped against the carpet, the way she cursed when she lost, the way her laughter cracked open the room.
But the crush grew with you.
At school, you saw her across the cafeteria. Always sitting with your brother, slouched in her chair like the entire world bored her, spinning an apple on the table while a girl leaned just a little too close.
You heard whispers—Ellie Williams broke hearts. Ellie Williams had a reputation. Ellie Williams snuck out behind the gym with a girl.
And every time, your stomach knotted. Because you could see it: the hand brushing hers, the tilt of a smile, the bite of a lip. You could imagine it so easily it was unbearable.
By then your fantasies weren’t innocent anymore. Not daydreams of sitting next to her with a controller in your hand too, but of her fingers curling under your chin, of her pressing you into the mattress, of that same laughter breaking against your mouth instead of the living room walls. You carried it like a fever.
But somewhere along the way, you weren’t just the little sister anymore. You grew. And you knew exactly how to use it in your favour.
It started with the shorts.
The heat was merciless that summer you turned fifteen. Air thick enough to choke on, dust motes hanging suspended in the sunbeams cutting through the blinds. You padded barefoot into the kitchen, skin sticky with sweat, cotton shorts clinging to your hips. They were worn soft, the elastic giving just enough to sit high on your waist and ride higher on your thighs with every step.
Ellie was there already, as usual—propped against the counter, soda can sweating in her hand, pretending to look interested in whatever dumb conversation your brother had just abandoned mid-sentence. Her hair was half pulled back messily, a few strands stuck damp against her temple, freckles stark against the flush the heat brought out.
You reached for the cabinet above her head, stretching on your toes to grab the cereal box shoved at the very back. Your shirt lifted as your arms extended, baring a sliver of skin at your waist, the hem grazing up and revealing more the longer you reached. The shorts shifted too, the fabric tugging across the curve of your spine, the seam biting higher with the stretch.
You didn’t even have to look to know she was staring. The charged silence that filled the space between you made you feel it. You let yourself linger, fingertips brushing the cardboard just out of reach, keeping your shirt rucked up, keeping the fabric stretched across you just long enough to test her.
When you finally glanced back, her eyes were already there—locked on you. On the curve of your ass, the length of your legs as you strained for the box. Then, syrup-sweet, you tossed a look over your shoulder.
“Whatcha staring at?”
It came out casual even when your pulse was racing, heart hammering with the thrill.
Her jaw was tight, soda can frozen halfway to her lips like she’d been caught mid-crime. Her ears burned red, freckles standing out darker across her skin.
“Nothing.”
The word cracked too fast, almost a stutter.
You smirked, plucked the box down, and turned away, satisfied with how your plan had worked.
Then came the towel.
Steam clung to your skin when you stepped out of the bathroom, the house’s warped mirror still fogged behind you. Droplets slid from your hair, tracing the slope of your collarbone, disappearing beneath the knot of white terry cloth barely cinched around your chest. The towel skimmed scandalously high at your thighs, shifting with every step, every sway of your hips as you padded down the hall.
You’d left your door unlocked on purpose. Timed it perfectly, slowing your steps when you heard hers up the stairs.
And sure enough—there she was, walking past at that exact moment.
“Oh—hey.”
Your voice lifted with feigned surprise, though you’d rehearsed it in your head.
Ellie stopped short, eyes catching on you like a hook snagged in fabric. For one beat too long she was staring shamessly—at the towel damp and clinging, at the shape of your tits pressed tight beneath, nipples hard and visible through the thin cloth. You watched her throat bob, her gaze flicker up too late.
“H-hey.” She muttered, her voice low and husky. Her hands shoved into her jeans pockets, knuckles straining against denim.
You leaned against the doorframe, tilting your hip, letting the towel loosen just enough to slip an inch lower. The corner of your mouth curled, knowing but innocent, inviting without ever saying so.
From the kitchen, your brother’s voice shattered the moment, shouting her name. Ellie tore her eyes away like the contact burned, muttering something that didn’t land, and brushed past you in a rush, the heat of her body grazing yours before vanishing down the hall.
After that, it was constant.
Well, you made it constant.
The little things stretched just far enough to matter. Brushing past her in the kitchen, letting your hand graze hers, lingering against her shoulder when you reached for a glass you didn’t need. Sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, knee angled so it rested lightly against hers. Sprawling across the couch in skirts that threatened to ride up with every shift of your thighs, slow sips from a water bottle, condensation slicking your fingers before you dragged them across your lips—tongue darting out to catch the moisture.
And every time, her eyes betrayed her. No matter how fast she looked away, no matter how sharp her jaw clenched, you saw it. The flash of hunger. The pause before retreat. The way her hand flexed against her thigh like she was physically holding herself back.
Your brother never noticed, too lost in his own noise, his own world. But you noticed. God, you noticed everything. The way Ellie’s laughter clipped short when someone else’s joke made you double over. The way her shoulders went rigid when another guy touched your arm in the cafeteria. The way her mouth opened like she might finally say something, only to snap shut again.
Ellie Williams. Your brother’s best friend. The girl you weren’t supposed to want.
And yet, the older you got, the more impossible it became for her to stop wanting you back.
Your house had been quiet all afternoon, the kind of silence only peaceful when your brother was upstairs. You were stretched across the couch, one leg bent, music thrumming faintly from the speaker on the coffee table. The summer heat clung to your skin, the old fan in the corner doing little to help when the doorbell rang.
Ellie stood there when you opened it.
Older now. Hotter. She wasn’t the lanky fifteen-year-old you’d first met, the one with messy hair and knobby knees trailing after your brother. No—twenty had sharpened her into something else entirely. Her hair was shorter now, cropped above her shoulders, auburn strands catching the light but darker at the roots.
New ink marked her forearm, black lines of ferns curling around a wide-winged moth, the shading so precise it seemed alive when she moved. The tattoo stretched when she shifted her grip on the comic book in her hand, flexing over muscle that hadn’t been there years ago.
“Thought your brother might kill me if I didn’t give this back,” she said, holding up the old Spider-Man issue with a half-grin.
You stepped aside, the brush of her arm against yours sending heat straight to your chest. She smelled faintly of smoke and cologne, that mix that was always so unmistakably her. She dropped the comic onto the table with a careless flick of her wrist and collapsed onto the couch beside you, spreading out, posture loose and infuriatingly comfortable.
You crouched low between the coffee table and the couch, stretching forward to fish out the remote that had slipped underneath. The cushions pressed against your ribs, shirt falling loose around the neckline as you leaned further. The fabric gaped, collar tugging low enough to bare the soft curve of your tits, nipples brushing faint against the thin cotton with each movement.
You felt the air shift before you even looked up.
Ellie wasn’t watching the television. Her body was still, shoulders rigid, but her eyes—her eyes were locked downward, shameless. Green gone dark, gaze fixed straight into the slip of fabric, drinking in the view like she couldn’t tear herself away. She dragged her bottom lip between her teeth, guilty and greedy all at once.
When you straightened, remote in hand, her head snapped up too late. She cleared her throat and tapped her fingers against her knee as if the nervous rhythm could erase the truth of where her eyes had been.
Your lips curved, satisfied, as you muttered. “So… there’s a party Friday.”
Her brow arched, skeptical but interested. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You tipped your head, letting your hair fall across your cheek. “You should come.”
Ellie leaned back, one arm thrown across the back of the couch, the other resting against her thigh. “Depends, your brother going?”
You sighed, rolling your eyes as if she hadn’t just pinned you with her stare. “Of course he is.”
She hummed, dragging the sound out slowly. “Then yeah... I guess.”
Her gaze swept over you again, openly this time. Down the slope of your bare legs, the hem of your shorts, the faint outline of your nipples pressing against your shirt.
The air between you tightened. She wasn’t the girl you’d crushed on at thirteen anymore. Freckles darker, shoulders broader, her tattoo shifting with every movement, and you couldn’t stop looking at it.
Her grin widened when she noticed your attention. She tilted her arm slightly, “Cool, huh?”
You swallowed, keeping your tone even though your pulse betrayed you. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” she repeated, mock-offended, eyes glinting. She leaned in closer, elbow brushing your thigh, the scent of her shampoo strong in the warm air. “This took hours, hurt like hell, too. At least tell me it’s impressive.”
You grinned, playing with the hem of your shirt, letting the cotton slip lower on your shoulder. “Well… maybe I need a closer look.”
Her tongue pressed into her cheek as she stretched her arm out toward you. “Go ahead, princess. Judge art up close.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but your fingers still found her wrist, thumb brushing against the edge of the ink. The skin was warm, firm under your touch. The moth’s wings curved when you turned her arm, ferns spiraling up toward her elbow. Ellie’s eyes never left your face, feeling the way you traced the lines.
“It’s… better than not bad,” you admitted finally, your voice softer than you meant it to be.
Ellie’s mouth curved slowly, “Thought so.”
You let her arm go, but the weight of it lingered, the heat of her skin burning against your palm even after.
“See you at the party, then?” you asked, forcing the words to sound light.
“Sure thing,” Ellie leaned back, green eyes still heavy on you. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,”
That was when the thud of footsteps hit—your brother’s heavy stride coming down. You sat up straighter, tugging your shirt into its original place. Ellie only shifted a little, grin sliding off her mouth as his figure appeared at the bottom step.
He landed in the armchair across from you both, eyes darting between you and Ellie. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned back, arms crossed, mouth set in a flat line.
“You two good?” he asked finally, flicker of suspicion underneath it.
“Yeah,” Ellie said easily, scratching the back of her neck. “Just returning your comic, thought you’d hunt me down if I kept it any longer.”
He snorted. “Damn right. Don’t trust you with first editions.” His eyes cut toward you briefly, then back to her. “Besides, didn’t think you read that fast.”
Ellie smirked. “Guess I’m smarter than I look.”
“Debatable,” he shot back, though his gaze lingered a beat too long on her position on the couch—on how close she was to you. “Just make sure you don’t start flirting with my sister while you’re at it.”
Ellie’s jaw ticked, the grin still plastered on her lips not quite reaching her eyes now. “She was telling me about the party on Friday."
Your brother leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring her down in that way he always did when he thought he was the authority in the room. “Good. I’m going with her.”
Her eyes flicked to yours before she answered, a quick spark you caught, even if your brother missed it.
“Relax, bro,” she said, casual, too casual. “Your sis’s smarter than that.”
You felt the burn of her gaze linger a second too long before she finally turned on the TV, thumbing at the hem of her sleeve, the black lines of her tattoo stretching as her forearm flexed.
Your brother wasn’t convinced. You could see it in the way his shoulders stayed tense, in the way his eyes kept darting between the two of you—catching things neither of you said out loud.
That friday, the mirror didn’t even look like yours anymore.
It was streaked with steam from the shower you’d taken an hour earlier, but the girl staring back at you now wasn’t the kid who used to hover at the edge of your brother’s room. This was sharpened, intentional.
Your dress was black, cut short, the hem barely grazing the tops of your thighs. The neckline plunged deeper than anything you’d ever dared, clinging in all the right places, whispering with every shift of your body. You’d tugged your hair into perfect waves, gloss shiny on your lips, mascara smudged dark around your lashes.
The bedroom door creaked open without a knock—your brother, of course. He stepped in halfway, then stopped, eyes sweeping over you with a look that was half-annoyance, half-protection, all older brother.
“Remind me why you’re going to this party again?”
You rolled your eyes, reaching for the heels at the foot of your bed. “Because I’m eighteen, and I’m allowed to have fun without you policing my life.”
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the doorframe.
“Fun,” he repeated, unimpressed. “That's what we calling it now?” His eyes flicked over your dress again, and his jaw ticked. “Jesus, you’re really wearing that?”
You slipped a heel on, snapped the strap into place with a satisfying click, and looked up at him through your lashes. “Yep. Got a problem?”
He exhaled like he was already exhausted, rubbing a hand over his face. “You know Ellie’s gonna be there, right?”
You smirked, straightening to your full height in the heels, the black dress hugging tighter when you adjusted. “Cool.”
Your brother froze, suspicion flickering across his face. “Cool? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
You just shrugged, gloss catching the light when you bit your lip, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Nothing.”
He stared at you for a beat too long, jaw tight, before finally groaning under his breath and turning for the door. “Grab your damn bag—I’m driving.”
The ride was a blur of streetlights cutting across your window, bass rattling from the stereo, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He didn’t talk much, just muttered a warning here and there—“don’t get wasted,” “don’t do anything stupid,” “stick with me when we get there.” Every line edged with that older-brother grit, the kind that always came out harsher when he was worried.
When he finally pulled up outside the house—already pulsing with music, people spilling onto the lawn—you pushed open the door before he’d even killed the engine. The night air wrapped around you warm and electric, lights flashing from inside, laughter spilling across the yard.
Your brother caught up quick, locking the car and throwing you a look that was both warning and weary. “Stay where I can see you.”
You rolled your eyes and ignored him, music hitting you first—thick bass that rattled the walls and pressed heavy in your chest, voices spilling over it in waves. The house was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, heat and perfume and sweat making the air humid. Colored lights strobed across faces, turning everyone into shifting silhouettes.
And then you saw her.
Ellie.
She was leaning against the kitchen counter with a red cup in her hand, surrounded by a cluster of friends—guys from your brother’s soccer team, a couple of girls you vaguely recognized from school. Dressed in black jeans and a faded tee that clung to her shoulders, her new tattoo stark against pale skin as she gestured lazily at whatever story she was telling.
She laughed at something, head tilting back, and you felt your stomach flip.
Your brother caught Ellie’s eye across the room and immediately cut through the crowd toward the group, his hand clapping down on one of the guys’ shoulders. She straightened a little when she saw him, green eyes flicking quick past him—then stopping.
On you.
Her smile faltered when she really looked. Took in the short black dress clinging to you, the way it dipped low on your chest, the glint of gloss on your mouth. Her jaw ticked, and she dragged her gaze away, back to your brother, but not before you caught the heat in it.
You let the corner of your mouth curl, turned on your heel, and slipped through the crowd until you found Rachel.
Rachel—your best friend, your partner-in-crime, the only girl who could match your sharpest edges—leaning against the kitchen counter, eyeliner sharp enough to kill, watching the party unfold with a look that screamed superiority. She spotted you immediately, lips curling into a wicked grin.
“Jesus christ,” She drawled, grabbing a red cup off the counter and shoving it into your hand before you could even say hi. “You look like a whore.”
You laughed, sharp and unbothered, tilting the cup to your lips as Rachel draped an arm over your shoulder. “Thank you babe.”
Rachel cackled, clinking her drink against yours. “No, like, a hot whore. A rich whore.”
“Better than looking like a poor whore,”
“True.” She adjusted her skirt, kicking her heels against the cabinet door. “Poor whores don’t get their tits done, and yours are giving main character energy tonight.”
“My tits ain’t—” Before you could fully retort, a familiar voice cut in. Warm, teasing, familiar.
“Wow, this is the most deranged conversation I’ve walked into all night.”
You turned to see Dina weaving her way toward you, curls framing her face, red cup in hand. She was glowing, skin dewy under the kitchen light, already half-buzzed judging by the easy sway of her steps.
“D!” Rachel yelled, nearly knocking over her cup as she reached to grab her arm. “Perfect timing. We were just discussing how hot she looks tonight.” She jabbed a finger at you.
Dina’s eyes swept you up and down, her lips quirking. “Okay, yeah. I see it. Total heartbreaker. Half this party’s about to write sad poems about you.”
“Only half?” you teased, raising a brow.
Rachel scoffed. “The other half’s just gonna try to finger you in the bathroom.”
Dina choked on her drink, laughing. “You’re disgusting.”
“You love me.” Rachel flipped her hair dramatically.
“I tolerate you,” Dina corrected, still laughing, then turned back to you. “Seriously though, you look incredible. Ellie’s here, right?”
Rachel’s grin went wolfish. “Oh, she’s here. And she’s staring so hard she’s about to burn holes in her ass.”
You snorted, hiding behind your cup. Dina leaned in, conspiratorial. “Should we do something about it?”
Rachel gasped theatrically, clutching her chest. “Oh my god, yes. Dance with us.”
Dina grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the counter. “C’mon. We’re not letting you stand here and waste your outfit.”
Rachel hopped down, nearly spilling her drink but saving it with a flourish. “To the dance floor!” she declared, striding into the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.
And you followed, laughing so hard your ribs ached, Dina tugging you close, Rachel swaying exaggeratedly to the beat. For the first time all night, you almost forgot about Ellie’s eyes tracking every move you made.
The three of you carved out space on the sticky floor like you owned it, shoving into the crush of bodies until the music wrapped around you. Dina still had your hand, pulling you in closer as she started to move with the beat, curls shining with every sway. Rachel, predictably, went full performance mode—hips swaying, one hand dramatically in the air, mouthing the lyrics like she was headlining Coachella.
“Rachel,” Dina groaned through a laugh, “the hell are you doin'”
Rachel only tossed her hair back, “Still hotter than every person in this room combined.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop laughing, hips moving with hers when she grabbed your waist. Your head tipped back in laughter, but your gaze snagged on the table across the room.
Flip cup. Your brother stood there, red cup in hand, cheeks flushed with booze and bravado. He was leaning too heavily on the table, laughing way too loud, clearly already drunk. And right next to him—Ellie.
Her sleeves were shoved up as she smacked the cup onto the edge of the table. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she flipped it clean on the first try, laughing when your brother cursed and slammed his palm against the wood.
She looked alive there, hair messy, caught up in the heat of competition. Your brother swayed, his words slurred as he shouted something at Ellie, and she just giggled, shoulders shaking, eyes flashing green under the strobe as she glanced at you quickly, but not less piercing.
Dina followed your gaze, then leaned close, voice warm against your ear. “Ohhh. Somebody’s watching her girl.”
Rachel smirked, leaning on your other shoulder. “Correction: Ellie’s the one watching. You’re just giving her a show.”
The night blurred into sweat and bass and laughter, hours collapsing into each other. Dina had you twirling on the dance floor, Rachel stealing sips of every cup she could find and all the while your brother spiraled further into sloppy chaos.
He was gone—head tilted back in wild laughter, arm slung over some guy you didn’t know. Every now and then he’d glance your way, but his eyes were glassy, his grin loose, his focus lost in the haze of booze and noise. He wasn’t watching you anymore.
But Ellie was.
Even when she was shoulder to shoulder with his friends, even when she pretended to be caught up in their drinking games, her gaze cut through the crowd, landing on you again and again. She looked wrecked in the strobe lights—jaw tight, mouth pulled into something halfway between a smirk and a dare.
You let it ride for a while, feeding off the weight of her stare, pretending you didn’t feel it. But when the music shifted to something slower, you leaned into Dina’s ear.
“Bathroom,” you murmured.
She arched a brow. “Need me to guard the door?”
You shook your head, quick. “No—alone. Just for a minute.”
Rachel, overhearing, pouted dramatically, grabbing at your hand. “Abandoning us? Ruuuude.”
“I’ll be fast!” you promised, tugging free with a smile that didn’t quite mask the pulse in your throat.
And before they could press, you slipped away through the crush of bodies, past the kitchen, past the living room where your brother howled with laughter, oblivious.
You glanced over your shoulder just once, long enough to catch Ellie, still at the table, her eyes locking on yours as you moved down the hall.
You held her gaze, a silent invitation, before disappearing toward the bathroom.
The lock clicked behind you, the hum of the party muffled through the door. You leaned against the sink, breath coming too fast, palms braced against cool porcelain as you tried to steady yourself.
Five minutes. Enough time for anyone else to forget you’d slipped away. Enough time for her to notice. You told yourself not to hope, not to believe she’d actually follow, that maybe it was just your mind, conjuring the fantasy that this plan could finally work.
You stood there waiting, doubt pooling heavy in your chest.
And then—knock, knock. Sharp. Quick.
“Coming,” you called, your voice pitching higher than you meant, nerves betraying you.
You tugged the handle, half-prepared to meet an empty hallway, half-convinced you’d imagined it all.
Instead you opened the door into the solid wall of her, right there.
The sight of Ellie was a shock that cracked through you, as if you hadn’t dared believe she’d really come. Eyes dark, jaw set, she didn’t bother with words. Her hand found your waist, firm, and in the next breath she had you backed up hard against the tiled wall. The door slammed shut behind her, lock snapping.
Now it was just the two of you.
The bathroom felt smaller with her in it, the air thickening, her heat rolling off in waves. The scent of beer clung to her breath, cedar shampoo to her skin, dizzying. She pressed in close, her body caging yours against cold tile, her hands braced hard at your waist so you couldn’t move even if you’d wanted to.
“You think you’re slick, huh?” Her voice was rough, rasping right against your mouth.
Your lips curved, gloss already smudged. “Worked, didn’t it?”
A breathless laugh slipped from her—half disbelieving, half hungry. “You’ve been teasing me for years.”
You tilted your head, lips brushing hers like a dare. “Maybe I have.”
That was all it took. Her mouth crashed onto yours in a bruising kiss, teeth dragging your bottom lip, swallowing the gasp you gave. It was desperate, messy, years of tension collapsing into heat and tongue and want. Her hands roamed with no hesitation, sliding up your thighs, under your dress, thumbs digging into your hips like she meant to brand you there.
She pinned you higher against the wall, your dress riding up as porcelain and tile dug into the backs of your thighs. Her body pressed tight to yours, chest to chest, the air between you nothing but her warmth and the sting of cheap beer.
She leaned in, grin wicked, eyes dark and glazed with something that wasn’t just tipsy.
“Jesus,” she muttered against your mouth, kissing you again before you could answer. “You have any idea what you do to me?”
Your hand fisted in her shirt, pulling her closer, nails digging into her shoulders “Been wanting you to fuck me for years,” you whispered hot against her jaw, kissing down to the corner of her mouth.
Her breath stuttered, her laugh wrecked.
“My best friend’s lil’ sis, huh?” Another kiss, hard enough to steal your air. “This is wrong. You know it.”
Your lips brushed her ear, voice a rasp. “Then stop.”
She froze for a fraction of a heartbeat, just long enough for her eyes to flick to yours—dark, feral, undone—and her mouth crashed back onto yours, harder. The kiss stole your breath, her teeth grazing your lip before her tongue claimed the space between your mouths.
Her hands slid down, gripping your ass hard, fingers digging in. In the next second, she lifted you clean off the ground, setting you down against the sink, porcelain biting into the backs of your thighs.
“Could never stop,” she growled, fingers pressing harder.
The small bathroom shrank around you. Her body pressed tight between your knees, hand sliding higher, under the thin fabric of your dress, cupping you, making you gasp into her mouth.
Your hands were everywhere—threading through her short hair, tugging her closer, slipping under her shirt to feel hot skin, tracing the edge of that tattoo while she groaned into your mouth. She kissed you like she was drowning, like every second wasted was years lost.
Her fingers dragged your panties aside, finding you wet and desperate already, her breath hitching when she felt it.
“Fuck, you’re soaked—” you cut her off with another kiss, swallowing her gasp as she grinded against your knee like she couldn’t help it.
“Shut up and touch me,” you muttered, nails raking her back.
Her laugh broke rough against your lips, but her fingers pushed inside you in the next heartbeat, hot and fast, curling deep as you clenched around her. Your cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, swallowed by her mouth as she kissed you through it.
“Been dreaming of this,” she whispered against your lips, fucking you harder, faster, her free hand gripping the sink behind you for leverage. “Years, baby. Years.”
You clawed at her shirt, legs trembling in her grip, words tumbling out between frantic kisses. “Don’t—stop—Ellie—”
Ellie’s mouth was hot against yours, her fingers driving deeper, curling until your thighs trembled on either side of her. Her forehead pressed to yours, teeth catching your lip before her tongue soothed the sting.
“I won’t,” she rasped and then pulled her hand from between your legs. You barely had time to whine before she was dropping to her knees on the tile, dragging your dress up around your hips as if she’d been dying to do it for years.
“Ellie—” you gasped, but the word cut off in a cry when her tongue parted you, wet and starved. Her hands gripped your thighs hard, spreading you wider, nails biting your skin as she buried her mouth deeper.
You clutched the sink behind you, head tipping back against the mirror with a dull thud. “Fuck—fuck!”
She groaned against you, low and guttural, the sound vibrating straight through your core. Her tongue was relentless, licking into you, sucking your clit with the same fierce concentration she used to give those endless video games on your brother’s floor.
She pulled back just long enough to drag her mouth across your inner thigh, lips wet, smirk curling though her breath came ragged.
“Fuck, you taste even better than I thought,” she rasped, eyes glazed, jaw slick. “Been thinking about this for so fucking long.”
Your thighs trembled, fingers locked tight in her short hair. You stared down at her, chest heaving, unable to catch your breath. “This isn’t—this can’t be real—” The words tore out of you between gasps, half-moan, half-disbelief.
Ellie grinned against you. “Oh, it’s real, baby. You’re dripping all over my tongue.” She pressed in harder, mouthing at your clit, groaning like she couldn’t get enough. “Dreamt about it, fuck, yeah—but nothing ever came close.”
You whimpered, grinding against her mouth helplessly and yanking her head deeper between your thighs. “Ellie—Ellie, please—”
She only growled in return, dragging her tongue through your folds like she meant to ruin you, sucking you down until you were thrashing against the counter
Your head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut, knuckles white where you clutched the sink. You couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out, couldn’t stop the frantic chant of her name breaking from your throat. The sight of her burned itself into your mind, filthy and impossible.
When you came, it tore out of you sharp and fast, muffled against your own arm as you tried to hold back the scream. Ellie didn’t let up, licking you through it, swallowing every drop, her moans vibrating against your skin like she’d been starving for you all along.
She stood then, breathless, lips slick, eyes dark with want. She dragged you into another kiss, forcing you to taste yourself on her tongue, her hands already tugging a strap from the waistband of her jeans, the plastic glinting under the bathroom light.
Your eyes widened, pulse snapping into overdrive. “Ellie—holy shit—”
Her smirk was wicked, already pressing the strap against you, grinding just enough to make you gasp. “What?”
You barely had time to answer before she shoved your dress down, fabric tearing against her impatience until your tits spilled free. She groaned low, mouth wrapping around one nipple, sucking hard while her hand shoved the strap against your cunt.
“Jesus—” you cried, half in shock, half in want, nails scrambling at the mirror behind you for balance. “This—this is insane—”
Her laugh was muffled against your skin, tongue flicking over your nipple before she bit down gently, enough to make you jolt.
And then she pushed inside.
Your cry echoed sharp in the cramped bathroom, echoing off tile and mirror. The stretch tore through you, hot and overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop the broken “Oh my god—! spilling from your lips. Ellie’s grip on your hips was bruising, anchoring you in place as she drove into you, rough and desperate, the slap of skin against skin barely audible over the bass pounding through the walls.
Her mouth dragged back up, teeth scraping your jaw, words rasped against your ear. “Look at you—can’t believe I’m finally inside you. You take it so fucking good, baby.”
Your heel slipped, clattering to the tile floor, legs tightening around her waist instinctively, dragging her deeper, harder. She kissed you again, swallowing your gasps like she couldn’t bear to let anyone else hear them.
“Say it,” she demanded between kisses, voice jagged, her hand sliding up your throat, thumb pressing against your pulse. “Say you’ve wanted me too.”
“Ellie—fuck—always,” you cried, nails digging into her shoulders, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from how good it felt. “Always.”
Her smirk broke into a groan, hips pistoning faster, the strap hitting that perfect spot again and again until you shattered around her, clutching at her like you’d never let go. She bit into your shoulder, muffling her own ragged moan, body trembling with the force of it.
The bathroom felt too small to hold it—Ellie’s pace turned brutal, every thrust rattling the porcelain beneath you, the mirror behind your back fogging over from your ragged breaths. Her grip on your hips was iron, dragging you flush against her with every snap of her hips until you were nothing but nerve endings and need.
Her forehead pressed to yours, sweat dampening her locks, her green eyes blown frantic. “God, you feel—fuck, you feel unreal,” she choked, cutting herself off with a kiss so desperate it hurt, her tongue tangling with yours.
And then—knock, knock.
“Bathroom’s free?”
Your brother’s voice slurred through the door, drunk and oblivious.
You froze, your whole body seizing, panic jolting through you like a live wire. But Ellie didn’t stop. Her hips only slowed, grinding in deeper instead of pulling away, eyes gleaming with something reckless. She clapped a hand over your mouth, pressing your head back against the mirror with a quiet thud.
“Occupied, bro,” Ellie called, her voice casual like she wasn’t buried inside you, fucking you against the sink. She thrust once, deliberately, making your muffled moan vibrate against her palm. Her lips brushed your ear, smirk curling.
“Quiet.” she whispered, breath hot against your lobe.
"Ellie?" Your brother chuckled lazily through the door. “Where’s my sister? I can’t find the brat.”
Ellie’s smirk only widened, her hips rolling slow and deep, dragging the strap over that spot that made your thighs spasm around her waist.
“Me? Mmmm... Haven’t seen her,” she drawled, hand still clamped tight over your mouth as you whimpered under it. She met your frantic eyes, a flash of panic flickering in hers for just a heartbeat before she buried it under that cocky grin. “Maybe she’s… busy.”
You thrashed a little, nails clawing her shoulder, begging her with your eyes, but she just pressed her hand harder over your lips, grinding into you with a snap of her hips that knocked a choked sound out of you.
“Busy?” your brother repeated, like he was leaning on the door now, words slurring.
Ellie bit back a laugh, her voice steady.
“Yeah. With her friends, I meant.” Her tone was smooth as if nothing about the situation was wrong, even as her hips pressed forward again, making your muffled cry vibrate against her palm. Her smirk twisted as her eyes bored into yours, watching you fall apart silently beneath her. “Think I saw her in the kitchen last time.”
You felt your pulse hammering everywhere at once, the terror of being caught clashing with the unbearable heat of Ellie’s relentless thrusts.
There was a pause, long enough you thought you’d both be finished.
Then God finally had mercy for the sinners:
“Kay. I’ll… look for her in the kitchen.” His footsteps staggered away down the hall.
You ripped a muffled sob against Ellie’s hand, thighs trembling, every nerve fried. She waited until the footsteps faded, then peeled her palm away from your lips, only to shove her tongue into your mouth, swallowing the broken sounds spilling out of you.
“Fuck,” she hissed, rutting into you harder now, reckless, chasing the high of nearly being caught. “That was close, huh?”
Your breath came in sharp, desperate gasps, tears prickling your eyes as you clung to her. “Ellie—oh my god, I can’t believe—”
“Believe it,” she growled, teeth dragging along your jaw. “Your brother just asked me where you were,” She thrust hard, sharp, making you cry out. “And you’re still fucking taking it.”
The heat coiled too fast, too sharp, panic and arousal tangling until you broke again, your body convulsing around her as you came with a strangled sob. Ellie groaned loud against your neck, thrusting through it, voice raw and guttural in your ear.
Ellie never broke her gaze. She pushed into you one last time, slow and devastating, her mouth brushing your ear.
“Thaat's it. You did so good,” she whispered, lips curling against your skin.
By the time you both finally stilled, your thighs were trembling against the porcelain, your gloss smeared across her mouth. The music from the party pulsed through the walls like nothing in the world had shifted, even as everything between you had.
Ellie eased out, hands steadying you when your legs tried to give. She tugged her strap free, tucking it back into the waistband of her jeans like she’d done it a hundred times before. You gawked, dress still hiked high around your hips, tits still out, hair a mess.
“You always carry that thing around?” you hissed in disbelief, tugging your hem back down and the straps into place, trying to make yourself look remotely presentable.
Ellie’s dimples flashed as she zipped her fly. “Only ‘cause I knew this was gonna happen.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re insane.”
She leaned in, kissed you quick and dirty, a press of lips that still tasted of you.
You shoved at her chest, whispering sharp. “Kitchen. Right now. Or we’re dead as fuck if he figures it out.”
Ellie only laughed under her breath, stealing one last kiss before pulling back, eyes glinting wicked. “So… you wanna make this a regular thing?”
Your face burned, heart hammering, but you still rolled your eyes, muttering, “Oh, you wanna be dead so bad.”
Her smirk only widened. Her hand slid down to smack your ass hard enough to make you jolt, a muffled yelp catching in your throat. Then she leaned back against the sink, giving you the nod to go first.
Separate exits. Five minutes apart.
You slipped out first, dress tugged back into place, pulse still thrumming like you’d run miles. The hallway spun with music and smoke, laughter from the living room spilling through the walls. By the time you reached the kitchen, you’d almost convinced yourself no one noticed. Almost.
Your brother was leaning against the counter, red-eyed and drunk as hell, a red cup dangling loosely in his hand. He squinted when he saw you. “Where the fuck were you?” he slurred, head lolling like he could barely keep it up.
You forced a smile, pulse still erratic. “Outside,” you said quickly, reaching for a bottle of beer on the counter just to keep your hands busy. “Went for air.”
He nodded, buying it instantly, attention already flicking back toward the table where someone was shouting about another round of flip cup. “Kay. Don’t disappear again.”
You exhaled, tension flooding out of your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Ellie, slipping into the room behind you, shirt adjusted, casual as hell. She didn’t even look at you, just drifted toward the couch, shoulder to shoulder with your brother like nothing had happened at all.
You exhaled, forcing your breath steady as you slipped back into the current of bodies, the swell of music and laughter threatening to swallow you whole. You tried to blend in, but you didn’t make it three steps before Rachel and Dina materialized out of the crowd like hawks circling prey.
“Girl, where the fuck were you?!” Dina shrieked, voice slicing over the music as she clamped onto your wrist like she was dragging you into court. Her eyes were wide, as if you’d committed some unspeakable crime by slipping away.
Rachel blinked at you, her gaze sweeping slow from head to toe, taking in every detail—your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, the way your hair was mussed in a way no amount of dancing could explain, the tremble of your legs, and the cling of your dress rumpled crooked on your hips. Her brows shot up, and then narrowed like she was lining up the pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t thought she’d ever get to solve.
Her jaw dropped, face lighting up with vindication. She smacked Dina’s arm so hard the other girl sputtered beer down her chin. “Oh my god. She fucked Ellie.”
Dina covered her mouth, laughing in disbelief, muffled behind her hand. “No. No way. Did you—”
“Shut up,” you groaned, dragging both hands up to cover your face, praying the floor would swallow you whole. But the heat blooming across your skin betrayed you instantly.
Rachel was already spinning in a delirious circle, her cup sloshing dangerously close to the carpet. “Bitch, I knew it! I knew it! You disappeared, she disappeared, and you come back looking like you just got out of a damn car wash—holy shit.”
Dina was still laughing, head shaking like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her voice was low but cutting, eyes glinting with mischief. “Your brother’s gonna kill her.”
Rachel clinked her cup against yours with a wicked little flourish, eyes gleaming. “Worth it though, huh?”
You didn’t answer—didn’t dare. You didn’t have to. Not when your body still hummed with the phantom echo of Ellie inside you, not with the taste of her still ghosting your tongue.
Across the room, you caught her. Ellie, leaning casual against the couch like she’d been there all night, a beer dangling from her fingers. But that carved, dangerous little curl of her lips was aimed straight at you.
A mark, a brand, like she owned the night, owned you, and owned the secret pulsing between you and your brother’s laughter.
the long-awaited Ancient Armour - I feel like I've been asked to do this one all the way back when I posted the first comic and now it's finally here!
this armour was surprisingly fun to draw... I feel like it COULD rank pretty high in terms of aesthetics if it weren't for that damned headpiece ruining everything 😤
I'll hand it to Plutarch, he manipulated the manipulator. I hope Snow felt betrayed like the little bitch boy he was when the third Quarter Quell went down
In Mockingjay, Katniss’s squad was called squad 451. Like the book Fahrenheit 451°.
Plutarch Heaveansbee, the man who had a huge ass library, and libraries were considered RARE, named them after a book about censorship.
Plutarch is such an interesting character, the fact that he was trying to stop the games for at LEAST 25 years. And he was so devoted it makes you wonder why he even cared.
ellievsbear
gummygunk
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
