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✂️ with ellie where ur both just desperate and losing ur minds tg maybe no dom/sub roles (if u want) <3

CUT, CHEW, CUM!

before you read!!

☆: erm ok idk if this has been written before (really have no clue, never seen it and couldn't find any.) but this idea came to me one horny 4am haze (post nut clarity? i only know post nut fic ideas OKAY JEEZUS anyway) so had to jot it down immediately lol. inspired by those aphrodisiac chocolates you can get. thinking of the title was a pain and a half…PLS DONT SUE ME THIS IS JUST A MEASLY LIL FIC THANK YOU.

♧: 2.2k wc

◇: SMUT!! this is literally just pure filth, sorry :3 with a little whisper of plot because yes. lots of build up (well, this is a pluto fic after all, what do you expect…i can't not yap ok), modern au, established relationship, nipple play, scissoring/tribbing, not really any roles they're just tryna get each other off, squirting, whiny ellie (yum), “baby” pet name, brief description of body hair (it's hot, ion wanna hear it!), masturbation ig (for like one second LMAO), ik the graphic is hideous but i can't be arsed, i dunno they're literally just fuckin like animals…i’m genuinely embarrassed.

Ellie watched over your shoulder as you turned over the crinkly packet, reading the warnings and table of contents. “Huh, you really think this is gonna work?” She asked quizzically, a tremendous amount of sarcasm in her tone . “I have no idea, it's probably just some placebo type of thing. but where's the harm in giving it a try anyway?” You replied, excited to see what was gonna happen. The chocolates looked completely unassuming: see-through plastic packaging, milk chocolate substance, shaped into a classic chocolate bar shape. Totally normal. Well, apart from the product name—CUT, CHEW, CUM! in all caps. Yeah that was discreet.

“It says…some ingredient names I can't pronounce, it works in about 20-40 minutes, and the effects last up to three hours, nice.” You read aloud the back of the packaging. “C’mon open it already, I wanna try them.” Ellie grumbled, beginning to get impatient.

It was a regular Saturday night—the two of you were bored and had absolutely no plans, but snatched these interesting treats up while perusing a store earlier, and were thoroughly intrigued, wondering what they were all about. She took them from your hands and roughly tore open the package, someone was in a hurry.

“Impatient, much?” Ellie rolled her eyes, handing you a rectangle of the dessert. You both sniffed it, nothing out of the ordinary. Then popped it in your mouths at the same time. It tasted fine, you wouldn't think twice about it. That would make a funny prank, replacing regular chocolates with these, you think to yourself.

Ellie shrugged at you, her face expressionless. Mouth stuffed with the sweet, “It’s just chocolate, did you get scammed? I’m gonna beat that fucker up.” But it came out garbled, and you understood maybe a third of what she said, blinking at her blankly.

Swallowing it and looking at her watch, “Alright let's see what happens in like half an hour, if anything. I doubt it'll work, to be totally honest, this shit's just a cash grab.” Ellie made her way over to the couch, patting the space next to her, where you quickly bounded over and cuddled up to her. You turned on an episode of your favorite comedy show—with a precise half-hour runtime—and leaned on your Ellie, enjoying her closeness and warmth.

Now that the treats went down the hatch, there was nothing else to do apart from wait and see if something was going to happen. 

You weren't looking at the time to see how much time had passed, but you began to feel a little jittery. The episode was nearing the end, and you were still leaning on Ellie. You felt some very light symptoms of arousal, they almost weren't even there. Like a slight increased heart rate and you felt rather warm in the face and limbs.

The way you had leaned on her, resting your head on her shoulder, gave you easy access to her neck, which was your favorite spot to kiss. You weren't paying much mind to Ellie, your eyes were trained on the television screen—this was one of the best comedies after all, but because she was right there, and you love your girlfriend, you kissed her on the side of her neck, right on her pulse point.

She smelled really good, she smelled of her beloved pine soap, so you kissed her some more, ever so gently taking the delicate skin in between your teeth, sucking on it and tasting her. Suddenly the show wasn't keeping your attention anymore, there was only her.

You shifted more to the right to get closer to her, pressing up against her side and burying your face in her. What broke you out of your pseudo-trance however, was feeling Ellie's nails dig into the meat of your thigh, and you faintly heard her breathing hitch as well. She had a vice grip on your leg, her knuckles turning a milky white.

“You okay, Els?” You move back to look at her, concerned. But what you saw was a beet-red Ellie—her freckles had gone invisible, that's how intense her flush was—chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes were darting around the living room as she avoided your gaze, her chest noticeably rising and falling.

The realization hit you like a semi, the chocolates. “Shit, are the chocolates working?” You ask her, a touch bewildered, you hadn't expected much of anything to happen. But here you were, wonderfully proven wrong.

She sucked in a breath, screwed her eyes shut and nodded rapidly. “Yeah, it's working all right.” She drawled under her breath, talking through a clenched jaw. At her confirmation you felt the same effects, you were really turned on, and it wasn't helping just how good your girlfriend looked right now.

You were overcome with the animalistic urge to just ruin her, to fuck her, feel her, and drink her up completely—it was almost making you dizzy. Ellie on the other hand, looked like she was in pain, her face redder than a fresh summer cherry, she leaned back against the couch with a hand resting on her forehead.

She chuckled darkly, “This crap is fuckin' strong.” You needed her, really, really badly. The ache in your lower abdomen was growing uncomfortable and you needed to take care of it. Hesitantly inching towards Ellie, you took her chin in your hand and turned her face to meet your eyes, swiping your thumb across her bottom lip.

She seemed to be holding back too, staring at your mouth with her hand hovering by your waist. “Ellie I wanna feel you.” You mutter quietly, unable to recall a time you felt this needy for her. And seemingly just as, if not more, needy for you, she nearly whined, “C’mere, please…”

You didn't need to be told twice. Zealously smashing your lips onto hers, the kiss felt electric, it was like fireworks going off inside your body. The passion was suffocating, her greedy hands roaming all over you, she was squeezing and kneading at your hips and waist, all without breaking the messy kiss.

Ellie moaned in your mouth, the kiss being all teeth, tongue, and spit—it was gross, really, but you couldn't get enough. Neither of you could hold back. Ellie held you so tightly against her, you'd think she would just pass away if she didn't get to have you as soon as humanly possible.

“Mmfmm, fuckin’ hell.” She panted, unable to separate herself from you. And you were near begging as well, needing nothing more than to quell the burning in between your thighs. You climbed clumsily into her lap, straddling her and grunting at the pressure, which was oh so delicious, but not nearly enough to satisfy you.

Ellie shot to an upright position, slipping her hands under your shirt to cup your boobs, softly pinching your already perky nipples between her fingers. Her mouth was suctioned tightly to your neck, wet, open-mouthed kisses leaving glaring marks wherever she could reach.

The sensations were all making your head spin into oblivion, and you tangled your fingers in her auburn locks, earning a whimper from your girlfriend beneath you. “Fuckkk Ellie, shi- damn.” 

Incoherent babbles fell from your lips as you rocked your hips back and forth on the top of her pelvis, ravenously seeking any friction you could get to soothe the painful throbbing in your center.

Ellie's bites on your neck got stronger, her voice breaking as pathetic pleas fell heavily against your skin. “Please baby, want your pussy.” It took everything in you to separate yourself from her and assume a stand, stumbling to rid your lower half of the clothing barrier between you and her.

She did the same, wobbly legs kicking her Star Wars themed pajama pants to the side. She sat back on the couch, appearing to be in a sort of horny trance, you've never seen her this turned on and ready to go.

You were struggling to get your clothes off, irritation rising when things kept getting snagged, your shaky hands fumbling to get it all off.

She was eyeing you hungrily, and stuffed two fingers inside her sopping pussy, thrusting quickly, curling them inside her, mercilessly pounding at her g-spot and rubbing her thumb on top of her stimulation-deprived, pulsing bud. Head falling backward, melodic moans escaped her, glistening folds and slick covered hand creating a mesmerizing sight.

“Hey, wait for me, what the fuck?” You guffawed, finding her impatience comical. Immediately after that, you successfully undressed and sat yourself back in her lap, splaying her legs as far apart as you could, hooking one leg over hers.

It was a bit of a struggle getting in the perfect position, the abundance of wetness in between you both causing you to slip as you lowered yourself onto her. Ellie was biting on her lower lip so forcefully she was going to draw blood, her strong hands found their home on either side of your hips, assisting you in grinding against her.

Desperate jerks and attempts to roll your swollen clit against hers proved better than before, however, the pleasure getting to her head. Her eyes were fluttering shut, eyebrows furrowed tightly together as you continued bouncing against her, feeling your own orgasm start to build in your core.

The tension was increasing, and drove you to pick up the pace—frantic moans tumbling out of you. The room was filled with the sounds of low, blissed out curses coming from you both, and the wet, smacking sounds of hot skin against skin.

“Pleasepleaseplease, fuck- just like that baby, ngh-!” She was getting close, her back was arching, and you were drooling at the sight of her toned abdomen—put on display by her bunched-up shirt, decorated with the copper happy trail you loved so much, leading down to her fluffy bush—would have been enough to push you over the edge simultaneously.

Her grip on your hips got even tighter, nothing but unintelligible whines—which used to resemble words—leaving you. Your own eyes were shut tight in concentration as you rocked against her more intensely, panting, desperate to cum.

She was eagerly thrusting up into you, chasing her own high. Slurring her words, she was pulling you down forcefully, causing spots of pleasure to explode in your vision. "Don’t stop, ah, I’m gonna-”

She cut herself off with a squeal of ecstasy, her hips jolting and stuttering against yours, warm cum spurting out of her pussy mixing with your own as you felt the orgasm wash over you in tandem with hers, overtaking your senses and causing white-hot euphoria all over.

You rode out the high, squelching sounds between the two of you growing wetter by the second, stammering profanities and strings of your girlfriend’s name until you both were twitching, whimpering, and on the verge of tears from the overstimulation. When you couldn't continue any longer, you collapsed on her, your chest heaving speedily while you tried to catch your breath.

She was the same way, leaning back against the couch with a hand resting on your lower back, the other pulling you in for a slow, deep kiss. You both stayed like that wordlessly for what seemed like an eternity, huffing and puffing as if you'd just ran a marathon.

You broke the silence first whispering into her ear, “Ellie…that was…” trailing off, cringing at the mess between your stuck-together bodies you could feel dripping everywhere at the smallest shift in position. She opened one eye and shot you a lop-sided grin, her cheeks pink, and covered in a thin, glowy sheen of sweat.

She giggled, then breathlessly replied, “I think I went to heaven there, wow.” You laughed, feeling at a loss for words all the same. That might have been the best sex you have ever had, and that was really saying something, you were still thrumming from the exertion. You sighed deeply and buried your face back in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. Eyes feeling heavy, you mumbled, “Maybe we should get those chocolates again.” Ellie burst into a fit of laughter, causing you to shake on top of her. “I totally forgot about those, you’re so right, that was crazy.” You stayed nestled together for a while after, only moving to grab your phone and put more of the products in your cart.

Well, it was safe to say the two of you were about to become regular customers of CUT, CHEW, CUM!

obsessed with my new top i looov it. masc mandate!! 😈

if anyone has seen an ellie edit with the song guess by charli xcx… please show it to me rachel PLEASE

AWWHH SHUCKS this is the best compliment ever actually. i’m kicking my feet rn as we speak 🤗🤗

Hey, Ellie, You There?

# 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐓? : ellie williams x fem!reader

# 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐒 ! : Only dirty things inhereit her mind when she notices you wearing the panties she bought you on this recreational trip to Tokyo. It's all she's thinkin about, that thought-provoking lace of desire. Wants to try it, bite it, lick it, spit it, pull it to the side, and get all up in it.

# 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 : honestly struggled with this one as there's no angst and i've got the itch to write purely angst and fluff, but.. hey.. a little smut never hurt anyone! anyways this is my piece for the brat challenge in this discord server, join if you want to partake in stuff/get sneak peeks on fics.. thanks to @caraphernellie for proofreading <3

# 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 ! : mdni, smut, modicum of plot (take this with a grain of salt), oral (r!receiving), established relationship, absolutely pussydrunk!ellie, switch!ellie (subtop leaning), no decorum, modern universe obviously so riley + jesse never died (yay for riley appearance), mostly just about the smut, messy messy, yeah, petnames used: baby, babe, good girl.

WC: 3.6k+ | MASTERLIST | IMPORTANT | DON'T BUY TLOU

IF EYES COULD UNDRESS

Ellie had never flown outside the States before October.

Japan in autumn is the perfect pocket of time for visiting, loyal tourists say. Noting its capricious spirit; falling back shoulders-first into the hot, cicada summer, which if anything the clicking whines mock the brutal sweating, palming bottles of imitation winter to outwardly parched necks, and stumbling brittle into the cold, pearl-white cries of clouds, aching the bones of everything tangible; it becomes obvious that you should land somewhere in the middle. Autumn is medial there, despite leaning gently towards the glossary of the year.

October was designated the month of living it up.

Letting loose in a foreign country.

Talk of escaping Jackson—while not a serious, eloping sort of hustle you whisper inside dark gaps of midnight—kept inspiriedly sparking and sparking from Jesse until he could condition everybody to a date, place, and gathered cough-ups and petty cash he could scrape from his home floors.

She, of course, freshly mulleted and on the lookout for your infinitely loving days, galloped after you. You go, she goes.

Tickets of your name and hers lived in your hearth-brown lockbox for a summer; the idea interested you easy, and whenever you go, Ellie is strung by a leash to; puppy-trained.

You knew your money set-aside was kept on your mind's line for one purpose and one purpose only: Tokyo, the plane there. But during a violet, tender spring morning, a few feet into the bathroom, you felt the crisp quiet crackle at your nape, and her body moor in to press you hotly.

“One trip to Tokyo..” she whispers. There was a drumroll pause and her right hand lifted between you and the mirror, a fingerhold of two tickets covering your face. “Coming up!” She had squealed it so softly quiet, so huskily, so promptly marked by a chuckle, you forgave her in that moment for securing the tickets under your radar. Forward your intentions.

Then, October and Tokyo came.

Her bag was a medley. Camera, comics, hair ties, caps, glasses, that stupid sock monkey, old crosswords Joel never consummated; aside essentials, and quite unessentially systemless; socks and sock monkey stored together. Okay, maybe there's a pun to it.

Where her mind took you two, however, was very organized and pre-contemplated.

Shibuya City. Fashion central, the ultimate juncture of crossroads, pandemonium at its greatest count, and it played deliberate cat and mouse with her wallet. Hand in hand, inside a lingerie store down the grand crosswalk, a surrounding of laces and ladies' ligatures in thought-provoking shapes ran her mind into the deepest gutter. One look at the darkest, laciest pair (with the little bows) of panties, and her hand was playing thumb-wars with her pocket for her wallet. You had the money! Had your reservations and expenses lined like stallions in a stable, but Ellie: a hades-bent girl bent on paying every picayune thing forward, insisted the ticket, and now this lacy thing of sex appeal, as a gift and nothing more than your sake.

Speaking of sex, one could imagine, “Just a gift to add to your humoungus collection, maybe more special though since I bought them. Think you'd look good in 'em, no?” is an evasive mouthful of wordage and awkward neck-rubs that really just translates to, “Wanna see these on you, babe.” Or maybe the puncture of her heavy breath and currant-redness of her taken expression eyeing as you hold the pair to your hips, low-lidded, lip-licked, read honestly instead as, “Gotta take them off you, yeah? Please?” Always a cherry-on-top girl.

Please, please, please.

Yeah, she bought them, and yeah, you'll wear them. Days after the threshold of your trip, tonight is the night. Bottom of the pit; living like a disaster; shots poured for everyone, by everyone.

Tonight, you tear new lace.

Laughter convenes at the place fruitions of humor normally do: the dining table. Low on the tatami, pillowed on the outskirts, it made a neat area of function for a messy laurel of people.

Dina, by far, was the messiest, most pell-mell in the manner she refurbished shot glass after shot glass for Riley: one amoung the rowdiest who challenged Jesse to a bet of 'who would fall off the wagon first; who could stay as sober as a judge?' Get a personal question wrong, you drink to your errors.

Two leaves in the laurel drank up the riveting theatrics instead, not so much the alcohol. Ellie and you, you and Ellie; mumbling about somethings in the dark of statures, rarely turning your eyes from the others at game—at least from your perspective. She could have been staking her seconds to count the hairs on your nape, writing lyrics over the features awake in her sightline, spilling her thyme greens and rainforest limbals into your skin, undressing your whispers. You wouldn't know.

Until she inevitably makes herself obvious.

“New earrings?” That crisp voice again, cracking where your head can only turn. She retires the singular silence with it, sparking up conversation with whatever she could muster, whatever she could see. “Kinda looks like a pair you already got.”

Ellie is pretty damn observant. Nothing goes unnoticed—not even the nominal shifts in your vast expression. So when you give her your eyes before your words, she knows there's an unspoken tease in sightly tensions. “Mhm. Wore everything I bought here so far to the concert earlier.”

“Yeah, noticed that too.”

Observation surpasses way beyond the slatted blinds of her simple lust. There is art, there is health. Her own eyes give themselves to thanking each meridian of your skin for being out to view tonight. She remembers every limb for midnight: the angle, the fragility, the firmness, limning for a page in her journal. An artist needs their intrepid eyes before their pens. She traces, and traces, down and down until her eyes find the shadow of lace.

She remembers that lace very well.

The corners of her lips crease up. “Those the panties I picked out for you?” Surprised with shy pride.

Her eyes drag from the beltline of your pants to where the lace pokes out, slowly undressing you. Then, her quiet thumb follows along, feeling over the drooping boundary of lace that sinks between and under your denim. All you can see are her eyes downturned, lashes and lids so focused, so content with the feel-good consequence of buying those panties. The things she could do with them heating her mind.

Fuck, if eyes could undress you.

“You mean the ones you took a gazillion pictures of me in when I tried them on?”

“Well when you put it like that—I mean, you looked good in them.” She scatters quick into a fluster, abashed to even face you now. “Fuck, shouldn't have said anything.” Her smile crinkles.

“Truth and drinking don't mix.” That in itself is a truth, spoken by none other than a young adult; the cliche age reckless abandon should inhabit the feasting teeth of. “Blame the alcohol.” You toss back another velvety shot, punctuating that accusation.

Guile is the furthest thing from Ellie. She could not be more public, more unsubtle about what that tangle of lace does to her. Make her stomach flip? Wash her freckles in bleeding raspberries? Still her thumb on your hip? Make her lovingly sick? The list grows as it goes, and each nuance pointed toward her surrender to simple lust; biting back, sucking breath one moment, avoiding your face and brushing her lips over your warm lobe the next.

Another confession falls from them. “Been thinking about them all day.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Yeah,” she squeaks weakly, voice barely attending.

Ellie can never resist a bit of lace.

Then, she softly droops herself with a bashful grin into where your neck carved room for her, laughing away her kisses. “Best present ever, I think.”

Spoiled, is how you felt. To have her feeding on your neck, blissful indulgence, sweating out sweetly in the corners of your jaw, which she gladly crept up to, you graciously sit still for her tongue. You go clean without pry; keeping an eye on the others at the table. They seem to be too entertained by drunken parlor games to notice. And that felt lucky, as her persistent thumb turns into hungering fingers, and soon enough her palms are kindly filling with and groping your hip, one finger tucked under the lace. Her signature; hesitantly asking you where she could get with this.

“Can't wait?”

“Sorry,” she uses her tepid breath to speak into your neck, weakly giggling. The vibrations of them ripple. “I can't help it.”

“Come on.” You climb your digits over her ductile knuckles, cradling her hand into yours. “Why don't we turn in for the night?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” she spoke soft with eagerness, excitement, a little bit louder than the breaths before.

That thirsty sort of sensation in your hollows, your throat and your obscure, obscene and sordid thoughts that gulp to be filled with a desire come true; desperate breaths.

Yeah, she knows that feeling all too well.

Her crossed legs clasp in, and shovel under into a kneel, pushing herself as you beckon her to get up with a telling, ghostly tug. She straightens out and sticks close: close as you stand, close as you cross a few feet to part dirty, droplet-trickled shot glasses onto the counter, close as you say your goodnights.

Ellie kept quiet. Ellie went smoothly. She, pumped to the limits of her heart, drooped her head to the ground where her excited eyes could toss however, and wherever they want. Where she could glimpse into obscure corners, and think about it again. The lace; the baroque, busy, enticing and tasty lace. The fabric that has her teeth grinding into her lip as it builds a hot pressure between her legs. It hisses alongside her repeating thoughts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Think I'm gonna head to bed, now. Lightweight over here breached her soberness already and won't stop drooling on my shoulder.” You even nudge it against her to puncture the emphasis, and the table understandingly laughs. “Night guys.”

“Night, enjoy the snoring!” Riley blurted, sarcasm-infused and drunkenly.

Yeah, totally going to sleep, totally checkin' out.

Mind your business everybody.

CAN SHE FIT IT?

What happens when the brain-slosh of a pussydrunk mess is met with the perfect bareness of a pretty bit of lace?

Ruination.

I said you would tear new lace, just not like the hostile, hungry and hopeless fantasy that sentence immediately evokes to mind. If anything, she might almost rip those panties off of you, but Ellie is a good listener; she submits you authority and mellows her lips at your thigh, inexplainably soft under your many holds, parched and waiting difficultly.

Your fingers poured through piles of auburn, looping, under and over, pulling and perching firmly on the very center. It offers you leniency. It promises you control. However, against good listening, in the palm of your hand is an eager girl with even more eager eyes, hooded and heavy, and that eagerness is trickling out in these little mumbles against your still thigh that you concieve only by their repitition. As expected, she is impatient.

“Please?” Ellie would say again, as every other rehearsal: pouty eyes, untie a kiss, watch you watch her, look down and mumble another plead, and her do her pouty beginning again.

Aching is the patience.

Fists bite at the sides of your hips. “I've been so patient. Babe, come on..” Her loose, open mouth drags along your skin, baring a manifestation of deprivation: a painful hiss. “Shit..”

“Aw, sucks, doesn't it?” You relish and adore this disgustingly, even your giggles are lighthearted and corrupt. God, what isn't to love about a girl on her knees, toughing it out to taste you? Absolutely nothing.

You're fucking soaked.

“Yeah,” she scoffs, and jokingly reproaches you. “Sucks when my girlfriend is being a tease and won't let me help her out or anything.” Ellie figured all this necking and desperation-milking had done something to you—something she wants to fashion into persuasion, something she is on the precipice of, eyeing the lace over your crotch. “Fuckin' wet, aren't you?”

That sounded like a hard sell. Pointing out the obvious to win you over, but you play along loosely to pity her. “Mhm,” your hum vibrates through a smirk, inviting yet ingenious. “Is that what you mean by helping out?”

“Obviously.” Those fingers at your hips soften, and tuck into the waistband of your panties, easing it down an inch. “Can I?”

“Mh-mm,” you deny and shoo her hands off. “Through my panties first.” You station a thumb behind her head, nudging her closer to that lewd warmth. “Okay?”

She gulps, she quivers, and her mouth splits open, considering your request carefully. “Fuck,” she curses quietly, a curse she sinks into her damp, compliant lips as she corners in darkly. Drooping her tongue, half her face disappears into wet lace divine, and presses a hot stroke into you.

It felt increasingly fired, her tongue on you. Fabric trapped the summer of lust inside, so when she latched her own huffing mouth, and now is painstakingly savoring you through it, the tempature makes you keen; softly humming satisfaction. “Mhh, there you go, Ellie,” you shower your whisper all around her, watching her begin, begin without satanical abandon. “Just like that.”

Just like you asked.

She starts with a genuine hold-back. Her lips purse, and fit the shape of your pussy deeper in, moaning as she sucks the slick and disconnects her mouth to lick it from her drool, but she only goes that far.

Not a drop goes neglected.

She laps you again, and has to sink her eyes shut when your taste—barely there, stifled aromas of sex—overtakes her, and she has to clench her brows together, impulsively grunt, and bite your panties into a pull, giggiling when it snaps back. “Hmhm, can I touch you? Please?”

“No baby.”

Seduction is cruel. There you are, flaunting it in her face, and yet you still have the brass to restrict her. Ellie loathes it, but only partially shows that she does in wry smiles. “Really babe?” Her lips shift crookedly, and her thumbs prod themselves in the inner-top of your thighs; progressing sub rosa. “What do I have to do for this?” She enroots a kiss, just above your clit, smushing her buttony nose.

“Be patient,” you reply, and tug her head back kindly. An authorative gesture, one she winces and hazes her eyes at. “Show me how bad you need it first, yeah? Be a good girl?”

And, fuck, did you speak so sweetly; her brain might already be flourished in rot at this point. But then, you bring your hands away and tuck your waistband a whisper lower—barely lower than your navel, and her eyes narrow. She leaps right into sugar. Indulging vulgarly.

She litters you in kisses above the elastic, adorning your groin. “Mhh—mhh, 'm a good girl.”

“Whatever you say..”

Ellie reiterates. “Know I am.” Soft and muffled in the skin she would hate to leave unmarked, her lips leading shamelessly downward again. She soaks the lace with her tongue, and her slow, hot breath, melts the lace away in her imagination. Melts it away as she feels your clit, thumping on her warm toungework.

This made you content: watching her work in action.

When she swallows back her tongue after seconds of latching, you expect another persistant retaliation. But all you hear is the sound of her throat hawking, then her spitting. Smack-dab, right on your crotch. Frothy and trickling, she is quick to lather it through your folds, tip of her tongue pushing the lace in between. The noise, the lack of decorum, and pressure of her mouth alone made your hips twist with insufferable pleasure.

“Fuck..”

Possibly the dirtiest thing Ellie has ever done.

She can tell it weakened something in you, driving her to do it again. “Mhm?” she questions your reaction, and spits, using her fingers to splay your pussy and rub it through. Despiting your requests. “Did you like that?”

“Ellie—”

No answer to her meek, hopeful question can leave your lips before her head is searching for consequences again: shoving all of her that is restless onto your clit and moving side-to-side. Licking and licking, saving the saltiness of your arousal for late-night memories, she numbs your mind with the way her tongue drags and refuses to stop dragging. To unravel you, she wove in her own pleasure—confident, enraptured sounds—moaning into your pussy as if it were grinding into hers. With enough imagination, it was. But your timidly intoxicated minds combined make the best of your situation; dirty wanton and thin liabilities telling her to go beyond and lick you into a scream.

She makes you gasp, “Oh, Ellie..” and cast your head against the wall. Balance falls from you, finding support in gripping her hair. It came on so fast—the sensations, the thrill. It changes you like desire transforms an angel. Her tongue challenges, and challenges, and it feels like a replacement for the alcohol you never consumed. It rushes your blood.

It convinces you as intended.

That climbing tension in your stomach was not long tolerated. Eventually, the lace seperating you and her became an obstacle in your mind. “Fucking hell.” You make a split-second revision, sacrificing your game of denial. “Go ahead,” you say, intriguing her to glance. “Just fuckin' eat me, please.”

Shaky exhales pierce her throat, and when your leg pivots out for her access, she has to suck the air right back in. “Jesus, babe.” A cocksure smile crosses her lips, and an even more sure thumb pulls the tongue of your panties aside. “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

Ellie lingered under you for a second to take in the raw sight of you, a glistening, excited mess. It all backfired; all of your denying and teasing had potent effects on you—maybe, you more than her, leaving you at the grasp of your evasions but simultaneously on the chase after your wantings. Arousal throbs uncomfortably in your core without forgiveness, and you couldn't be more glad now that your most favorite girl in the world is beyond aching to relieve it.

“Yeah,” she scoffs. “Fuckin' wet.”

She kisses your cunt like a thankful prayer before you feel her tongue take the first, greedy, heady, long-drawn and self-indulgent lick of you. Her tongue swipes through, prodding the edge of your perineum and stroking up. Taking these savored laps of your slick and quirking her brows agreeingly. Bumping your clit mindlessly and making you shiver. Letting it pool and drip around her open mouth, so when she pulls away to show you her spit-strings of work, filthiness is what springs to mind.

Her bottom lip pulls through her teeth, cleaning up all your juices. Proudly. “Tastes so fuckin' worth it,” she whispers, and without a warning, she gets all up in it again. Forcing your legs even more apart with her head and her vigor, rolling those same aching circles into your clit and sending this delicious pricking down your calves.

“Yes—yes!” She ruins your voice. ”Just like that, good girl. Fuck..”

“'M' your good girl?”

“Y-yes, s-such a good.. mhh..”

Throat tight, lungs shallow, your words and your wails cannot catch up with each other. Despite the tipsiness, she is well fucking coordinated. In moments, there are faint, sloppy sounds of her licking you, giddy pressures of her fingers compressing parts of you, coercing you to come, right into her mouth. She makes you want to grab her head, and you do, roughhousing her into the neediness of your core.

“So good with that.” A treasured compliment from you speeds her up, having to tear her fingertips into the plump of your ass to keep her tendencies busy. Otherwise, they might end up somewhere on herself. “Fuckin' l-love you.. oh my god.”

Ellie flicks her tongue at an urgent pace, smacking your clit over and over, and directs her strangely ignited, northern-light eyes up, and they ask you wordlessly.

Are you close?

Mhm.

Fuck, babe.

Her eyes shut takenly.

A conversation of the eyes is all Ellie peered up for to impassion herself. Your legs clasp in, and she does nothing. She lets them. She invites them; rubs them, gropes them when your panties try to close her off. She glories in having your legs hug her, relying on her, inflicted by her. Even she, the product of all this pleasure, is shaky and involuntary, pushing on you as she tries to almost swallow you—swallow your pussy.

Then, she pictures that lace again in her mind, and she begins to beg.

“Please, please, please..” Having broken away to speak, she snaps back on you again, tugging and teething and exhausting the vibrations of her pathetic moans until you could feel them in your own. “Mhh, mhh, fuuck..” She makes out with your clit, wrapping her pretty pink lips and smilining so graciously; she knew this would kill you.

It does.

It faultlessly does. “Ellie, Ellie, Ellie..” Her perfect, practiced lips, which widen more when your hips twitch in overstimulation, get her where she wants. You arch into her, riding out your orgasm on her face, which she engages in. Winding her nose up and down until your cum lined each nostril, each lip corner, and made her smell like nothing but you.

Blissful indulgence, you say?

Definitely.

Ellie drags an unyielded lower lip up your slit, and one last time, whines into your sopping core. “Thank you, thank you, thank you..” Licking a final stripe as she emerges up from between your legs, tired-looking and red-cheeked, your thigh becomes her head's silky resting place. Acting like she went through trial and tribulation for this. She pants, “That was.. really amazing, huh? Yeah?”

You are responseless. Recovering? Overwhlemed? Dizzy in the eyes? None of those; you're only pondering what to do next with this bundle of limitless opportunity.

“Babe?” She jabs your thigh, foraging for attention.

As always.

“Hmm?”

Her hand molds into your hip, caressing slowly. “What now?”

Choices cross you quick. “Hmm, bath, probably.”

“Ooh, can I join?”

Always following after you.

perm taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @maleelee @seraphicsentences @ravyaryn @sunnsh1ne

fic taglist; @absbunnyy @cowboylu @dizzy-dyke @elliesspacewalker @jaded-jadee @chaikichainsaw @notsentimentalll @mthlndxmthmphtmn @h-sayoko-shifts @dumbmesblog @3lliewilliamsluv3r @kitkattyb @shady-lemur @pynkasket @oreo2sblog @mystiifyingcunt @a3rielle @xaaaavleg @09carriages @pinkcwake @andersonslove @sapphic-ovaries @jazzloveer

[lmk if you'd like to be added to my perm taglist!]

oh. my. god.

♯┆ellie nsfw masterlist

you guys wanted the photos i used. so i gave you that and more! ## disclamer; every link here leads to a website containing porn, ads, and nakey jumpscares. click at your own risk. i tried my best to compile every picture/video that isn't exaggerated/weird/horrifying. i risked my eyes for you. there's definitely more than what i've selected, but i'm not sure what everyone likes!

ellie sitting in a chair. titties out.

ellie fingering herself woahhh

ellie smoking with her titties out.

ellie yitties out. covered in blood.

ellie naked, in the darkness: part 1 part 2

ellie artfully naked graced by the sunlight / another version

ellie naked and serving body tbh

ellie naked and bound at the wrists why is the tattoo on the wrong arm ♥ possibly ai idk

ellie enjoying herself in peace

ellie enjoying herself again. eyes closed 🙈

weed scene edit, ellie shirtless.

ellie yitties out in seattle. looking mischievous.

ellie and dina nipple sucking. my dream.

ellie and dina taking a selfie. not entirely naked! ARMPIT HAIR!

ellie naked and doing this cunty pose.

ellie yitties out AGAIN. looking ponderous.

ellie and dina kissing. boobie peek feature.

pov: ur on ellie's ceiling and she's naked again omfg this whore

ellie fingering herself again.

happy halloween!

ellie sucking dinas nipple with thirst and VIGOR.

ellie eating dina out. toe-clenchingly. / other angle / part 2

ellie strapping dina and grabbing her neck. whew!

ellie and dina scissoring. ELLIE BUSH!

ellie and dina kissing it's very magical and picturesque oh and they're naked.

ellie getting fingered by another girl.

ellie and dina getting freaky on a couch: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

knight!ellie coded tbh. murdered everyone while naked ig

ellie. naked. chilling by a campfire. life can't get better than that.

ellabs making out. naked. finally amiright.

ellie getting backshots from abby DAMN!

ellie and dina getting freaky deaky again.

ellie titties for the billionth time.

ellie getting her ass ate by dina. / and again here.

ellie with nipple piercings.

ellie in a cute pair of panties. i support tbh.

ellie laxing naked in the sunlight. yummy belly button piercing.

okay ellie getting her pussy ate on mars???

that's about it. i went up to page 100 on the website and there was still more. couldn't handle it anymore i'm sorry LMFAOO. ellie header credit.

PLZ DO IT… it’s calling to you…

ive seen knife-play with ellie on this app but…. i’ve never seen ellie be on the receiving end of it and thinking about it is making me AWWWOROOOOOEOWIOFOGNNNGGGHHH😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

you’re holding her own switchblade to her throat while finger fucking the life out of her and telling her not to move a single muscle yeaaahhh im gonna tweak

…. thoughts chat?