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“Is this what you wanted?” 

The low hum of her sultry voice caused butterflies to erupt in the pit of your stomach, their wings fluttering with such haste that it filled you with the best sort of unease. The heat of her mouth on the skin of your neck right below your ear produced a slight shiver that started from the top of your head to the soles of your feet, numb with exhilaration.

 When your eyes closed, it was as if all your senses heightened and you suddenly became aware of the pads of her fingers dancing across the expanse of your protruding collarbone,  her clothed hips against the cotton of your underwear, and the tickle on your thighs from the hotness of her hands that gripped them.

“C’mon, answer me, baby.” 

You let out a sharp gasp as the nails on her fingers dug into the skin of your upper thigh — right under the short denim skirt you wore. Your eyes fluttered open, lids low and slightly red-rimmed from the joint you had previously shared with her before you both snuck off to the bathroom. 

Your hands ran down the dips of their resting spot on her hips to the waistband of her jeans, fingers looping through her belt hoops as a means to pull her closer. The warmness of her breath hit your face, the scent of marijuana mixed within it as you bit down harshly on your lower lip — an indent in the shape of your teeth embedded into the flesh. 

“You already know what I want.” Your eyes bore straight into her emerald green ones, pupils were blown wide with lust, her hand still on the fat of your thigh. This is what you waited for all those times you sat close to her, the perfume that lingered on her skin wafting into your nose, only to weave its way into your brain so you could commit to memory. Her subtle touches would set your very being alight, burning as brightly as the flames from your lighter whenever you flicked it to light your joints, a rose-colored tint emerging from under your skin and onto the surface. 

The first time she had held your form in your hands, she knew she was a goner in more ways than one, swearing to herself that she’d never be able to care for someone in the way she cared for you. Ever since then, her wandering hands had to be in secret, behind closed doors where no one else could witness the intense chemistry first-hand. 

Taking Ellie’s hand, your gaze never faltered as you kept eye contact with her, dragging it across the hairs of your skin and to the heat of your inner thigh, her touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Touch me.”

She couldn’t control the smirk that graced her lips, head dipping low to hide in the crook of your neck once more, her mouth watering at the sight of your jugular as you swallowed the arising lump in your throat. Her assault of feverish kisses began, starting tantalizingly slow at your jaw, just a couple of inches away from your chin before moving down the side of your throat that pulsated along with the quick rate of your beating heart. 

As Ellie pulled your shirt down, you could feel her saliva as it swept across the expanse of your chest, continuing to greedily suck down to your breasts, eyes fluttered shut in concentration, the hairs of her lashes tickling your sternum as she hummed into you. 

The hand that was cupped over your cunt moved, rubbing at your core through the material of your drenched underwear, the denim of your skirt flipping up and onto your stomach. The sensation of her fingers on your aching clit was relieving as you bucked your hips into her hand slightly, her movements stilling for a second before continuing. 

The whine that escaped your parted, glossed lips was high-pitched, echoing in the space of the bathroom so loudly that she had lifted her head and opened her eyes widely in alarm, hand disappearing from in between your thighs to silence your muffled noises. 

She hushed you, furrowing her brows and pressing her ear against the locked door to hear for any noise on the other side. You watched, her hand still over your mouth as she silently stood there for a couple of seconds before diverting her attention to you sitting all pretty on the cool counter of the sink. The fluorescent lighting from above spotlighted you in the best way possible that in her euphoric state, Ellie was convinced that you were an angel, something for her to devour whole and lick her fingers clean of. 

“As much as I love hearing you moan, you have to be quiet. Can you do that for me, pretty?” She cooed, her tongue darting out from inside her mouth to moisturize her swollen lips, fingers vanishing under your skirt for the second time. 

Nodding, you pulled at her shirt, her chest ramming into yours with such force that it almost knocked you back into the sink, but you didn’t mind. Silently chuckling, Ellie wrapped her arm around your waist, pressing her lips against yours roughly, knocking all the breath out of your lungs. 

Your legs closed in on her hand, trapping it there as she placed her thumb on your throbbing clit, eyes pooling with curiosity at the way your face would contort into one of pleasure at the pressure she applied. 

“Oh, fuck. It’s —” Her finger pressed against your bud harder, the friction causing you to lose your train of thought, the words from your mouth seemingly being carried away in the air vent as it whirred. 

Sniffing, Ellie hooked her fingers inside your underwear, pulling it to the side so she could gather your slick with the pad of her index finger, thumb still working against you. “It’s what? Use your words, my love.” 

Your mind was hazy, incomprehensible thoughts swirling through the foreground of your brain so slowly, it made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. You weren’t as anxious as you should’ve been, and from what you could tell, neither was Ellie as she continued to give you her everything, pouring out whatever love she had for you in the form of her fast-paced fingers. 

“It’s too much.” You sobbed, hands curling under the counter, gripping at the corners, knuckles white and fingers bent. The extreme high you were experiencing sent the blood coursing through your veins, skin hot with need. And just as you were about to let loose, a knock sounded at the door, causing you to press your lips together thinly, eyes wide as you stared at her in fear, chest rising as you inhaled deeply through your nose. Sitting here, on the counter with your skirt hiked up, and slightly bitter that you didn’t get to finish, the reality of what you were doing — and who you were doing it with — had hit you harder than it had earlier. 

There was nowhere else for you to run, your feet numb from the adrenaline of being discovered. In truth, it was almost as if both of you were asking for it, finding yourselves a little too comfortable around wandering eyes and observant people, who of which were very close friends with your brother. It wasn’t as if the bathroom door was hidden either, in fact, you could see it down the hall from the front door, right in the open space that held the small space of the kitchen and the living room all in one. 

Your brother’s apartment wasn’t the ideal place for her to be fucking you, especially at a small gathering of friends such as this. You both opted for more of a private setting such as the comfort of her place, tangled within the sheets of her bed, and having continuous orgasms. You loved the feeling you got when she’d hold you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, her fingers like ice as they tapped against the arch of your spine, sending a shiver to run through you. 

The knock came again, and then a voice right after, slurred and low from too many consumed cups of alcohol — you knew exactly who was speaking, and it scared the shit out of you. Ellie, however, jutted out her lips, quickly putting a finger against them as a way to tell you to stay quiet before she cleared the lump in her throat, “Yeah?”

“Ellie, is that you?” Yeah, that was your older brother.

She moved a piece of hair from in front of her flushed, freckled face, tucking it behind her ear, “Yeah, what’s wrong?” 

As she spoke, you took the time to scan her face under the eyesore of immense light, taking notice of the sheen of sweat forming at her hairline, the undone button of her pants and zipper — half open, revealing the waistband of the briefs that hugged her hips. It made you ache all over again, the dull throb returning when you lifted her shirt to run one of your fingers across her stomach, smirking to yourself when you 

“Are you done? I gotta fuckin’ pee.” 

The auburn-haired girl looked at you through her peripheral, blinking rapidly a couple of times, a small sigh leaving her lips at the interruption, the sound going unheard to your brother on the other side of the door due to the rattle of the air vent in the middle of the ceiling. 

“Almost, just give me a second.” 

You saw a peak of his shadow from underneath the door, the squeak of his sneakers dragging against the wood floor, and a dramatic groan leaving him, muffled as he shuffled away from the door. 

“And bring my sister with you, I’m not fucking stupid!”

Your heart sped up, the organ beating quickly against your ribcage if it wasn’t for the bashful smile on Ellie’s face, you would’ve dropped dead on the cold tile from an unexpected heart attack. The blush that colored her lips was hot, painful almost as she awkwardly scratched the back of her head, disrupting the placement of her small bun, her right palm going to move your skirt back into a more appropriate position. 

Clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth, you couldn’t help but let your lips just outward in a frown, growing annoyed at the continuous dull throb of your clit from the lack of attention. You were so close to your first ( definitely not your last ) orgasm of the night, and it had been ripped away from you. 

“How the fuck did he know?” 

Ellie rolled her eyes, her sweaty palm landing on the coolness of the metal doorknob, “We weren’t exactly being discreet…at all” 

You rolled yours in response, scoffing right after when you heard the door squeal open, the action earning a protest from you. “Where are you going?”

She outstretched her tatted arm into the hallway, the low vibration of music bouncing off the walls, the clanks of glasses, and the small curses from the current beer pong match taking place reminding you of the appearance you had to keep up. 

“To interact, c’mon.” Sighing deeply from your chest, you lifted yourself off the counter before walking past her and into the hall, jumping slightly as she smacked your ass, her mouth hovering against your ear, her breath tickling the heat of your skin.

“Don’t pout, baby. I’ll make you come twice as hard later tonight.” 

It took every bit of self-control that lingered within you to ignore the arousal creeping back, disguising itself in your stomach as a knot of white heat. 

You couldn’t fucking wait.

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

Her leather-laden hands, clutching the edges of the window frame, hoisting herself over the small ledge into your bedroom.

You hadn't heard it.

And then, her thoroughly dusted boots, clopping at your creaky wooden floor, steps miniature and slow.

You still heard nothing.

For you were sleeping. Achingly peaceful, still and vulnerable. Your hair, a halo around you, arranged gently across your pillow. Your lips parted, light breaths puffing out of them consistently. Your hands, clutched closely inwards with your blanket laced between your fingers. An angel, the outlaw thought.

And then she sees it.

Her hat.

Neatly rested atop the pillow next to you, almost propped on display like you knew she’d be coming.

It was cleaner. Dusted off. You had undirtied it properly and meticulously for the gunslinger, delicate hands conditioning the suede for hours and hours until it finally felt right.

The outlaw warmly smiles, shadow looming darkly over your sleeping body as she imagines it. You, sitting pretty all alone in your lace trimmed bedroom, brushing grime off the leather of a hat that belongs to a criminal.

She wishes she could’ve been there to watch you do it.

The outlaw stills, realizing something, and reaches into the band of her holster to pull out a burlap sac. The size is small enough to hide easily in her palm.

Her fingers tug the strings and widen the top, before digging inside and plucking out a pink, soft looking peony.

It reminded her a lot of you when she’d first seen it.

She steps lightly, bending over your figure, and creeps up the brim of her hat to place the peony under it.

She knows that you’ll find it eventually. The difficult part, to the outlaw, is being unable to see your face when you notice it.

But it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

As the next time the outlaw would visit—tomorrow night—she had a different plan.

She’ll wake you up instead. Brush the hair out of your face, cup your cheeks gently and lay a soft kiss to your sleep-heated skin.

She’ll reveal a lilac from her burlap sac this time, closely watching the blush rise in your face as she places it in your hands.

And then she’ll steal you.

Steal you far, far away from this place you’ve been forced to call home.

And never let you come back.

---------------------------------

Night has fallen over town, and the outlaw couldn't be happier.

Her lilac is plucked.

Her boots are freshly polished.

And she approaches the same window confidently, enthusiastically, and opens the shutters.

Oh.

Her eyes widen subtly, glossing over as she sees inside.

She quickly realizes that she cannot enter.

Because you are...occupied.

Thoroughly occupied.

Gasps escape your lips in fluttery exhales, so quiet and so soft that the outlaw could barely hear. Your arms, daintily motioning under your blanket, are about hidden completely. She almost pities you, right then. Seeing the pure need color your cheeks as you help yourself. Almost frustrated with pleasure.

And her hat. Her damned hat.

Sat dearly next to you, superbly clean. Resting in the same air you breathe out so sweetly, so beautifully. Close enough to see the wetness of your eyes. Feel the warmth of your skin.

The gunslinger heats, hands starting to moisten the inside of her gloves. She swallows.

Her fingers fidget, still clasped around the shutter, as she raises the other hand, already drawn into a fist.

She knocks.

Immediately, a shrill shout escapes you, limbs messily fumbling under the covers and hands frantically grasping them up to your chest.

"Sakes alive!—it's—I—it's you!" you stutter in disbelief.

The gunslinger subtly nods.

"D'you—" you take a breath, having to collect yourself before you talk again. "D'you have any idea what time of night—this is—this is just horse feathers! Just—just showin' up?! I don't even—" you look away, breaths coming out harshly. "I don't even have words for you right now."

"Darlin', I—"

"Don't. And while you're at it—put that—that damn bandanna over your eyes," you say, voice getting a little quieter. "...I'm...indecent."

The outlaw only obeys, hands tugging the bandanna up and over her brow bone. You continue.

"I should've never trusted some—some line rider crook like yourself. My mistake."

She steps forward, hands steadily in front of herself.

"I'm no crook sweetheart, I already told you—"

"I can't trust a crook's word on bein' a crook! You lunk-headed—"

The outlaw interrupts you with her movements, arm extending to snatch her hat and place it on her head. She adjusts it slightly, fingers pinching the brim, before talking.

"Tell me you want me gone. I'll make tracks darlin'. I don't wanna hurt you. I can..." she glances at the window. "...take my hat and go. If it's what you want."

Your body tenses, freezing at the notion.

"That's not what I want." you blurt, anger starting to subside.

The outlaw's voice had you remembering how caged and hot you felt when you first had met her. It was distracting.

"Yeah?" She asks. "Enlighten me then."

You pause, feeling strangely watched despite her vision being blocked by the fabric.

"I want—well, I wanted...you. And I didn't know if—if I'd ever see you again. I couldn't..." your skin colors. "...I couldn't wait."

The only expressive part of her face you could see—her mouth—quirks up into tiny smile.

"You only had to wait a small while longer honey. I was down the road."

Your legs shift under the covers, restless with warmth.

"You can—you can take the bandanna off. I'm...fine now." you utter, still unable to face her directly.

Her hand moves to grab it, before she stops.

"Are you sure? I don't mind—"

"Just take it off." you cut, words even louder.

She finally does, exposing her eyes to you and your bedroom. Her grin widens as she looks at you.

"Not so bristled anymore?" she questions.

Your hands brush up and down your thighs.

"...No."

She tracks your movements closely, eyes flicking.

"...Somethin' else rattlin' you then?" she tries.

You stay silent, simply not able to conjure a clean way to word your thoughts. The outlaw talks again.

"I think I know." she assures. "You weren't quite...done yet, were you? Is that it?"

Hotness blooms, showering your insides in something dangerous and heady. The outlaw won't stop talking.

"You're just—just itchin' for it under there aren't you?" she murmurs.

She sits on your bed, body leaning deftly close to yours. Her head inches near your neck, lips curtly brushing you for a moment.

"...Do you think you'd let me see?" she whispers even lower.

Your feel your eyes abruptly dart up, focusing on hers. Your hand moves meekly, finding her own and guiding it towards you. You draw her under your covers, slowly letting her fingers pad their way down your sternum.

The glove is missing, as you feel her skin on yours, and it causes you jump slightly. You hadn't even seen her take it off.

Her hand is shaky, excited, as she feels your bareness for the first time. It starts to ravage, pulling at the hem of your panties wildly.

Her hat knocks into your forehead as she clutches your neck, bringing your face to hers swiftly.

She takes, mouthing heavily on top of your lips and inside your mouth, groping at your inner thighs. Her hand cups your cunt, forcing a dizzy amount on pressure onto you instantly.

"I—oh," You partly gasp, the outlaw's fingers starting to rhythmically circle your clit without warning. You feel her tongue leave your mouth, start spanning the length of your neck and tasting.

Her hat knocks into your chin this time, tumbling it off her head and onto the mattress. Her teeth start to nip, scattering painfully pleasurable bruises across your skin.

Her body climbs over yours, bulky clothing scratching you as she does so. Her hand still rubs you dearly, fingers now curiously prodding inside.

Your hips start to shift, jittery and wanting, and the gunslinger grinds down with the whole of her bodyweight, thrusting her hand harder against you.

Her hips keep bucking like that, pounding her own hand, with such force that you feel your bed start to wobble.

"That's—hah—I—ohhh—I need—" you breathe, words broken.

"What's that? Gonna have to pop your corn a bit louder darlin'," the outlaw chides, hips only slamming harder and faster as you struggle to talk.

"I'm—ooh—your—your name! Tell me your name!" you exclaim, voice airy.

She grins, eyes fixed. "Williams—Ellie Williams."

A hand moves to your breast, squeezing and tugging in time with her hips. You feel her fingers reach deeper, farther, evoking molten rushes of heat straight from your belly. It's becoming too fast to keep up with.

"El—Ellie—"

She groans, the metal belt buckle she wears knocking even more vigorously against you.

"Again sweetheart. Say it again."

Your eyes are glassy, barely gazing at the figure on top of you. Your legs are clutched around Ellie's waist, taut as the sensation of her fingers overwhelm you. You hear your own voice meander out of your parted lips, unable to really control how you sound.

"Ellie, Ellie, Ellie—oohhhh, Ellie, I'm—" your voice cuts into a moan, high and breathless. You feel your body jerking, an insane amount of energy burning to be released.

"I know poppet, I know. It feels so good, don't it?" she softly speaks into your shoulder.

"Yes, it's—mmm—it's—it's good," you groan, your own hands weakly clawing at her hips to slow down.

It was a tide of sparks, a wave of relief, a terrifying wall of pleasure that hit you so violently, sending you flying and soaring, essentially drifting in the haze of climax.

Your thighs flinch together, knocking inwards even tighter as your body racks with leftover tremors and sparse shivers.

The outlaw just watches.

You both sit silently for a moment, enjoying the stuffy air and sweaty sheets for a while longer.

Her hand departs and snakes into her empty hostler, where she digs for a bit and pulls out a small brown sac.

Her fingers delve into it, bringing out a tiny, tiny flower.

Your face brightens.

"Is that—is that for me?" you ask sweetly.

"Who else?" Ellie says, tucking the flower in between some strands of your hair.

She moves, rolling over to lie down in the spot next to you. She gazes up at the ceiling, face slightly scrunched contemplatively.

"You thinkin' about somethin'?" you quietly ask.

Her head turns to yours.

"No."

But that was a lie. She was thinking hard.

Because the outlaw hasn't given up.

She couldn't steal you tonight. That time has passed.

But tomorrow night?

A rose, she thinks.

You hesitantly open it up, eyes squinting and head shunned like it might be something unsavory.

(+14556768854)

hey

can u tell me if this looks serious

IMG_5354 [Click to Download]

pls respond

y/n

Your heart lurches.

These texts were from Ellie.

Instantly on edge, and you frantically poke the image link to see it, tapping it repeatedly as if that would speed it up. It buffers, agonizingly, and you prepare yourself to see a grotesque and mangled amalgamation of colors in the next few seconds.

It finally loads.

You scan it quickly, studying and prodding the image with your eyes.

Your mouth flattens.

It’s…just a picture of her flexing.

Your thumbs type at an alarming speed.

that was not fuckijng funny

You throw your phone back at your mattress, deciding to ignore whatever nonsense Ellie will respond with.

It chimes immediately.

You regretfully pick it back up, still angry, and open to read what she says.

lol

“…Fucking stupid…” you mutter, already typing at your response.

im serious

thats not why i gave u my number

ok

why then

You roll your eyes, memory already recalling a couple of days ago, where you very clearly and very obviously told her why.

for emergencies

or if u need me for something important idk

i dont wanna see your thirst traps

You knew that last part was a lie before you even typed it out. That picture she sent was not what you were expecting, but it still turned your insides to mush. It still had you a bit uneasy, nauseous even. Ellie had power over your body like that.

hmmm

i have an emergency

really bad one

You wait on her answer, skeptically, watching those three dots dance around in circles.

im hungry

You let out a sigh.

Then you click your phone off, throwing it elsewhere, and dejectedly gazing at the textbook sitting on your desk. Your professor would want you to, right?

Your phone interrupts you again, noisily snatching your attention with its sounds and jostling your focus from the book.

The sounds don’t stop.

Fuck, you think. Your phone is ringing.

You jerk to pick it up, fingers fumbling it, until finally you’re able to click ‘answer’ and bring it to your ear.

You’re quiet, hoping Ellie will speak first.

“Hi.” a voice says, and you quickly connect that it’s just Ellie’s, sleep riddled and raspy.

“…Hi.”

“So…what’d you think?”

Your eyebrows crease.

“Of what?”

“'Of what?' Of my fuckin’ progress, that’s what! Anthony has me eating, like, six whole chickens a week.” she boasts.

“Oh. I didn’t really…see?…I guess? I don’t know…”

“I mean—I’ve gained almost 30 this year.”

You remain confused. Is that a lot…?

Ellie must understand your silence for what it is and continues.

“Pounds, princess. Muscle. I’m getting fuckin’ huge.”

Oh.

“Okay—I got it now. Um…congrats, then.”

“What, that’s it? That’s all you got for me?”

“I—I don’t know!” you defend, voice coming out a bit louder and higher. “Your muscles look—like, big, all the time! I can’t tell the difference!”

She laughs loudly into the receiver, and you can’t help the smile you wear, hearing it so amplified in your ear.

“You need more pictures? I got more pictures.” she assures.

Simultaneous with her voice, you feel the sharp vibration and hear the dingy chime of your phone.

“Just took that one. You should look at it.” she adds, tone low but casual.

You deeply blush, feeling exposed despite being so alone in your bedroom.

“…Okay.” you agree, sliding the phone off your face to open it up.

A mirror reflection of Ellie’s back fills your screen, stretched and taut into a flexed pose. Her arms are out beside her head, clenched impossibly tight, in effort to completely portray her physique. Your eyes flick down, noticing in the image that she’s wearing only boxers.

She just took that picture?

The air in your room feels warmer, hotter than ever, so you strip down to a tank top and underwear. It feels wrong, almost. Talking to Ellie with this much skin showing. Her not knowing.

“Hello? You there?” Ellie loudly repeats over the speaker, audio fuzzy and weak.

You grasp your phone back up, stuttering out a response.

“Yeah—yes, here. I’m here.”

“'Kay. Your turn.”

You almost drop the device completely.

“My turn?”

“Fair’s only fair, right?”

“…Ellie…” you protest, skin burning with even the idea of her seeing you.

“C’mon, please? I took mine already, you can’t go back.”

You say nothing, whole body sweating, hoping and praying she’ll just forget about it.

“…I wanna see you.” she admits, voice warm and fuzzy through the speaker.

Your cheeks erupt red, a sense of burning flowing throughout your whole body at her words. You curl up, thighs squeezing at themselves, and try to answer.

“But—I’m…I’m in…pajamas.” you whisper, looking down at your bare legs and sheer top.

“You are? Even better.”

“I—I don’t know—”

“You really don’t have to. I’ll live, princess. I promise.”

Your body relaxes entirely, a breath of pure relief leaving your lips, as well as a forceful yawn. Ellie must’ve heard it through the phone.

“Aww—you tired? Should I hang up?”

“No! Don’t hang up! I want to keep talking! I was studying before so I’m a little—a little out of it but—”

“Nope. I’m hangin’ up. Princess needs her beauty sleep.”

“What—no, Ellie.” you argue, albeit lazily, as the energy you have left is truly running low.

“I’ll be here in the morning, won’t I? Good-niiiight—” she lulls, drawing out the last word.

“No! Don’t hang up! Ellie!”

On the other end of the phone, there’s only quiet.

An abyss of silence.

“…Ellie?” you try, voice small.

Nothing.

Your mouth purses, frustrated, as you listen to the absent noise through the speaker.

Still nothing.

You flip over, hostilely pulling the comforter over yourself and crashing your head into the pillow. You feel cold, but you know an extra blanket or some layers wouldn’t make you any warmer. Only she could.

Before you can shut your eyes, the chime sporadically rings out again, and you find yourself rapidly grasping the phone from your mattress.

Immediately you unlock it.

(+14556768854)

sweet dreams

dont let the bed bugs bute

fuck

bite *

call you tomorrow

Your eyelids finally shut, the weight of the day keeping them closed indefinitely. Your limbs go lax, succumbing to exhaustion.