mari!

᨞ᣞBreak ᨞⠀{E.W}

summary: you sneak into ellie’s steaming room, hide under her desk and eat her out whilst she tries to stay quiet but ultimately fails

word count: 1.5k

cw: 16+, SEXUAL THEMES, EXPLICIT CONTENT, exhibitionist, hold the moan

the carpet is soft beneath your knees, and you're not entirely sure how you ended up here, tucked away in the cozy darkness under ellie’s streaming desk like some kind of mischievous sprite. above you, her gaming chair creaks slightly as she shifts, and you can hear her voice, bright and animated, chattering away to her chat.

"yeah, yeah, i know i said i’d do a horror game tonight, but I'm thinking maybe we just vibe with some cozy farming sim instead? what do you guys think?"

her bare legs are right there, just inches from your face, and you can see the way her toes curl against the carpet, the little silver anklet catching the RGB glow from her PC. she’s wearing those cute sleep shorts, the ones with the little stars on them that ride up just enough to make your heart do a little flip.

you shouldn't be here. you definitely shouldn't be here while she's live, with thousands of people watching her screen, hanging on her every word. but there's something deliciously thrilling about it, something that makes your pulse quicken and your breath come a little faster.

the thing is, ellie doesn't even know you're here yet.

you’d slipped in while she was in the bathroom, thinking you'd just surprise her, maybe tickle her ankle or something innocent. but now, crouched in this intimate little cave of shadows and possibility, you're struck by a much more wicked idea.

your fingers ghost up her calf, feather-light, barely there. ellie’s voice hitches, just for a second, before she continues reading chat messages. "oh, stardustsam says they want to see me suffer through phasmophobia. you guys are so mean to me!"

you smile in the darkness. she felt that. she knows.

emboldened, you let your hands travel higher, tracing the soft skin of her inner thighs with your fingertips. her legs part, just slightly, just enough, and you hear her breath catch. the chair creaks as she adjusts, and you can practically feel the tension radiating from her body.

"i’m—uh—i’m gonna grab some water real quick," she says, and her voice is already a little breathless. but she doesn't move. doesn’t reach for her water bottle. instead, her hand drops down below the desk, fingers threading through your hair in a gesture that's half-warning, half-invitation.

you press a kiss to her inner thigh, soft and sweet, and feel her shiver.

"actually, you know what? i’m good," she says quickly, her hand tightening in your hair. "let’s just... let's just start the game."

the mouse clicks above you. keyboard keys clatter. and you decide to make your move.

you hook your fingers into the waistband of those starry sleep shorts and tug gently. ellie lifts her hips, just barely, just enough, and you slide them down along with her underwear, revealing her to you in the soft glow of the RGB lights. she’s already wet, already wanting, and the sight makes your mouth water.

"okay, so, um," ellie’s voice wavers above you, "we're gonna start on the easiest difficulty because i’m—oh—"

the 'oh' comes out as you lean forward and place a soft, reverent kiss right where she needs you most. her thighs tremble on either side of your head, and you feel her try to close her legs instinctively before remembering where she is, what she's doing, who's watching.

you start slow, teasing, letting your tongue trace lazy patterns that make her squirm. above you, ellie is doing her absolute best to maintain composure, but you can hear the strain in her voice.

"so we need to—fuck—i mean, we need to find evidence," she says, and you grin against her, knowing that little slip was entirely your fault. "the ghost is... somewhere. we should probably... oh god..."

you flatten your tongue and lick a long, slow stripe, savoring the taste of her, the way she gasps and grips the armrests of her chair. her hips roll forward, seeking more, and you give it to her, sealing your lips around her clit and sucking gently.

"are you okay, ellie?" you imagine someone in chat must be asking, because she laughs, high and breathy and absolutely unconvincing.

"i’m fine! totally fine! just... just really focused on the game. this ghost is really scary, you guys."

her hand finds your hair again, fingers tangling, holding you close. you can feel her trying to stay still, trying not to move too much, trying not to give away what's happening just below the camera's view. but her body betrays her, the way her thighs quiver, the way her breathing gets heavier, the little gasps she can't quite suppress.

you work her with your tongue, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit, reading her body like a book you've memorized. when you slip two fingers inside her, she covers it with a cough, but you feel her clench around you, hot and wet and perfect.

"chat, i—i need you guys to stop being so funny right now," she manages, her voice tight. "i can’t... i can't focus when you're... oh fuck..."

you curl your fingers, finding that spot inside her that makes her see stars, and her thighs clamp around your head. above you, you hear the frantic clicking of her mouse, the desperate attempt to look like she's actually playing the game.

"the ghost is in the—the kitchen, i think. we should check the—oh god, oh god—"

you can feel her getting close, the way her walls flutter around your fingers, the way her clit pulses against your tongue. her breathing is ragged now, barely concealed, and you know her chat must be going wild with concern or speculation.

"ellie, you sound weird," she reads aloud, and laughs breathlessly. "i’m just... really into this game. very immersive. very... oh... very intense..."

you double your efforts, sucking harder, pumping your fingers faster, and you feel her start to shake. her hand in your hair tightens almost painfully, and her other hand slams down on the desk, she plays it off as frustration with the game, but you know better.

"i think i’m gonna—gonna die," she gasps out, and it's true in more ways than one. "the ghost is—i can't—"

her orgasm hits her like a wave, and she bites down on her lip so hard you're worried she'll draw blood. her whole body goes rigid, thighs clamping around your head, and you feel her pulse and clench around your fingers as she comes. above you, she's making these tiny, desperate sounds that she's trying so hard to suppress, disguising them as frustration with the game.

"no, no, no!" she cries out, and you know it's not about the game at all. "oh fuck, i died!"

you work her through it, gentle now, soft licks and slow movements as she trembles and shakes. when she finally starts to come down, you press tender kisses to her inner thighs, her hip bones, anywhere you can reach.

"okay," she says, and her voice is absolutely wrecked. "okay, i think... i think i need to take a quick break, guys. just five minutes. i need to... compose myself. that was really intense."

the moment she mutes her mic and turns off her camera, she's rolling her chair back and pulling you up into her lap. her face is flushed, her eyes bright and wild, and she's grinning at you like you've just given her the world.

"you are so bad," she whispers, pulling you into a kiss that tastes like her. "so, so bad."

"you loved it," you murmur against her lips, and she laughs, that real, genuine laugh that you adore.

"i really did," she admits, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "but now chat thinks i’m either dying or having a mental breakdown."

"worth it?"

she kisses you again, soft and sweet and full of affection. "so worth it."

you can hear the discord notifications pinging, her mods probably checking in, her chat probably going absolutely feral with speculation. but for this moment, in this little bubble of intimacy, it's just the two of you, her fingers tracing patterns on your back, your head resting against her shoulder, both of you giggling like you've gotten away with the best prank in the world.

"i should probably go back," she says eventually, but she doesn't move. just holds you closer.

"probably," you agree, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"five more minutes," she decides, and you smile against her skin.

"five more minutes."

outside this little world, there's a stream to finish, a chat to reassure, a game to play. but here, under the glow of RGB lights and the warmth of her embrace, you've found something better than any game, this perfect, whimsical, slightly ridiculous moment of connection.

and when she finally does go back to streaming, when she's explaining away her "technical difficulties" and her flushed cheeks and her slightly disheveled appearance, you stay right there under the desk. just in case she needs another "break" later.

after all, you're nothing if not helpful.

💬TAGLIST: @xx-n3onmxshrxxmkjss @elliesssgf @heartsfromken @elliespup @loserpunkbutch @liawentinsanetonight @noraleaheartz @uniquewombatexpert @elliesfavtoy @nyxplanett @daddys-pretty-priincess @cari8 @makiismywife @sophislover @oliviasdramatic @elliefavvs @ellieabbygf @sxxphe @batty4billz @bunnyxslutt @brialovesellie @cutflwr @maymay-anderson @thatredheadloserlesbian @bunniestfemme

If you haven’t yet, be sure to comment “🐼” to be added to my taglist

“fuck babe, can you just touch me already?” ellie grumbles out finally because it’s getting to be too much for her, and it sounds way whinier than she intended. you respond with a soft yet purposeful bite to her nipple and she yelps. fuck, she knows you are not done teasing her, not by a long shot.

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: you allow ellie to tattoo your boobs!

𝑪𝑾: nothing but fluff!!

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: ELLIE x FEM!READER

The apartment smells like coffee and the faint antiseptic tang of rubbing alcohol. You're sitting on the edge of Ellie's bed, your shirt draped over the back of her desk chair, wearing only your bra and jeans. The afternoon light filters through the half-drawn curtains, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.

"You're sure about this?" Ellie asks for what must be the third time, her green eyes searching yours with that mixture of excitement and concern that makes your chest tighten. She's setting up her makeshift tattoo station on the nightstand,ink caps, the machine, gloves, all arranged with surprising precision for someone who usually leaves her socks scattered across the floor.

"I'm sure," you say, and you mean it. You've been thinking about this for weeks, ever since you traced your fingers over the moth and fern on her forearm one lazy Sunday morning. "I trust you."

Something softens in her expression at that. She pulls on the black latex gloves with a snap, then gestures for you to lie back against the pillows she's propped up for you. "Alright, let's do this. But if you change your mind—"

"I won't."

"—you just tell me and we stop. No questions asked." She's hovering now, one knee on the bed, studying the placement you'd discussed. The music notes will curve along the swell of your breast, delicate and simple, a private piece of art that means something just to you.

Your heart is hammering, but not from fear of the needle. It's the way she's looking at you, professional but tender, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. It's the intimacy of this,letting her mark your skin, trusting her hands to create something permanent on your body.

"Okay," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. She leans in close, and you can smell her shampoo, something woodsy and clean. With a purple marker, she sketches the design directly onto your skin, her touch feather-light and careful. Each stroke tickles, and you have to fight the urge to squirm.

"Stay still," she says, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm trying. Your hands are cold."

"They're gloved, genius." She sits back to examine her work, tilting her head. "How's that look?"

You crane your neck to see the mirror she's holding up. The music notes flow naturally, following the curve of your body like they were always meant to be there. "Perfect."

"Yeah?" Her voice is softer now, almost vulnerable. "You really like it?"

"I love it, El."

She grins then, that crooked smile that made you fall for her in the first place, and reaches for the tattoo machine. "Alright. Deep breath. This is gonna hurt a little."

The buzz of the machine fills the room, and then the needle touches your skin. It's a sharp, scratching sensation, not unbearable, but definitely present. You inhale through your nose, focusing on the ceiling, on the feeling of Ellie's free hand resting gently on your ribs, steadying you.

"You're doing great," she says, her voice low and soothing. "Just breathe. I've got you."

Minutes pass in a strange, suspended intimacy. The pain becomes almost meditative, a constant hum that grounds you in the moment. Ellie works with surprising gentleness, wiping away excess ink, adjusting her angle, completely absorbed in what she's creating. You watch her face, the furrow of concentration between her brows, the way she bites her lip when she's focusing hard.

"Stop staring at me," she mumbles without looking up, but you can see the blush creeping up her neck.

"Can't help it. You're cute when you're focused."

"Shut up." But her hand trembles slightly, just for a second, and you feel a rush of affection so strong it almost overwhelms you.

The tattoo takes maybe twenty minutes, though time feels elastic and strange. When she finally sits back and turns off the machine, there's a moment of silence where you both just look at each other.

"Done," she says quietly. "Want to see?"

She holds up the mirror again, and your breath catches. The music notes are beautiful, clean lines, perfectly placed, exactly what you'd imagined. But more than that, they're hers. Her art, her hands, her love made permanent on your skin.

"Ellie," you whisper, and you're not sure what else to say. Thank you feels too small.

She understands anyway. She always does. Carefully, she applies the ointment and covers the fresh tattoo with plastic wrap, her touches reverent and gentle. When she's done, she doesn't move away. Instead, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, then another to your collarbone.

"You're stuck with me now," she murmurs against your skin. "Literally."

You laugh, threading your fingers through her hair. "Good. That was kind of the point."

She pulls back just enough to look at you, and there's something in her eyes, wonder, maybe, or gratitude, or love. Probably all three. "I can't believe you let me do that."

"I'd let you do anything," you say, and you mean it more than you've ever meant anything.

Ellie kisses you then, soft and sweet and tasting like the future. And as the afternoon light shifts and the tattoo begins its healing, you think about permanence, about trust, about the way love can be both a choice and an inevitability.

you were inked and you wouldn't change a single thing.

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader Word Count: ~ 1,8k Modern College AU Explicit sexual content (18+), NSFW MDNI!

Warnings: mutual oral sex, 69 position, weed use, shotgunning, intoxicated sex (enthusiastic and consensual, but characters are high), fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink vibes, soft dom/sub energy, light teasing, bratty behavior, sweaty summer vibes, lazy horny energy

A/N: soooo, after a shorter break, i'm back! i'm so sorry for having y'all wait, but med school is no joke, and is kicking my ass a bit. anyway, i got a request for a 69 Ellie smut and was like, why not? so here it is. hope you like it. also, i never proofread, deal with it. so if you find any mistakes, just ignore them, or if they really bug you, let me know <3

The air in the apartment was already thick with heat, clinging to the skin like a second layer. A low sunset bled through the blinds, casting horizontal shadows over the messy couch and cluttered coffee table. Outside, the cicadas screamed in the summer dusk. Inside, the room hummed with something else entirely.

You sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Ellie, a joint balanced between your fingers. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, pink at the edges, and glittering a little in the dim light. Her body slouched back on the couch, legs spread lazily, one arm slung over the backrest. She looked like sin. All casual in that "who ate all the pussy?" T-shirt you got her, her tattoo curling around her veined forearm, her thumb lazily stroking your knee. The whole apartment smelled like weed and her sandalwood soap.

I was thinking...