Wicked Games
Warnings: y'all are exes, singer! ellie, singer! reader, labelmates, both heavily intoxicated (liqour), public sex, fingering, ellie threatening to take you both over the raiing, begging, fear play, light choking, reader is a brat
Genre: smut
Word count: 1,237
A/n: Dark fic! I just thought it would be a fun concept and because of the help of a new friend I’m editing my writing now so hopefully there will be improvement that’ll motivate me to write more…when I’m done with the poll fics I will be writing for rue🧘🏿♀️
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The lights flash pink and blue against your brown skin, back exposed in your short black dress. You don't know why you're here. Maybe it's the good liquor or to get a glance of those green eyes. She won a Grammy tonight, beat you for 'Song of the Year.' Her speech hollow and presence elsewhere. The other night she told you that it should be you. Caught you before sliding into the neighboring studio.
That was the first time the two of you talked in three years. Three years filled with albums, interviews and gazes for each other. Pathetic on both parts.
Perks of working at the same label as your ex. Never-mind that, you have to show face and support her. Her wins will always be your wins.
Network nonsense, mediocre mingling and absent appreciation fills the air around you. It's too stuffy, borderline claustrophobic. Your heels click across the room to the terrace. The party is on the 10th floor of some future-fusion hip hotel. The cool LA breeze whips around you as you brace the railing. The terrace is a little slice of heaven. Heavy doors and heavier curtains with a asymmetrical wall cutting you off from all the buzz.
"There she is" cuts clean through the air.
Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide. Ellie's leaning against the wall, black button-up open and sleeves rolled to her elbow. Her eyes steady and focus on you.
"Dress looks good angel" her half-lidded gaze drinking you in. The way your nails grip the railing, how your knees buckle, the way your throat bobs, how your muscles strain as you hold yourself up.
A heavy silence falls over the two of you, old pride warring with drunken lust. Built from a carnal ache for the other.
"Thought bout you all night." she whispers, low enough you almost missed it.
"Can't say the same" you say weaker than you like, but alcohol has a way of showing your truth, and she knows that. A soft "c'mere" leaves her lips, without thinking you cross to her, maybe five inches separating you.
"Wanna be honest or are you gonna play with me?" she questions as her fingers play with the hem of your dress. "I didn't think about you all night…just here and there." A soft hum leaves her, her fingers leaving a burning trail as she casually scrunches up your dress. You don't fight her, you never have.
"Still easy I see" she mutters to herself more than you as she backs you up to the railing. Quickly you brace yourself feeling the lack of gravity is daunting. Ellie lowers herself in front of you, hoisting your left leg over her shoulder. She rips your panties and pockets the scraps, the air kissing your clit before she does.
Ellie looks at you through her lashes, trying to capture every expression. Her tongue licking fat lazy stripes. If she's gonna have you again, she'll take her time.
"So fucking sweet…anyone else have what's mine?" she says in-between licks.
"No, only you" you huff breathlessly
Her right hand shifts from your hip to your pussy. Middle and index finger pushing in, causing you to tremble. The railing squeaks as your grip tightens the fear of falling makes you clench around her pistoning fingers.
"You scared baby? Think I'd let you fall? Not when I just got this pussy back" she whispers against your folds before slurping on your pearl. "Don't talk like that" you state as strongly as you can muster. Although the thought made something in your stomach flip.
Ellie pulls back a little, but her fingers slow.
"It's true, won't let you fall. Be good and you don't have to worry" her green eyes blown and serious. "The way you clench cause you don't trust me" she says as she puts your leg down to rise. Your wetness on her lips and chin.
Her fingers pick back up in speed and curl, free hand wrapping around your throat. Not squeezing hard enough to block your breathing but enough to make you a little dizzy.
"Could take us both over pretty girl y'know that? Too stupid to fight me." You shake your head no, as her grip tightens. "Not scary if you'd trust me." she whispers in your ear as she presses herself to you, leaning y'all over the rail more. One hand leaves the rail to grip her arm.
Her name leaves your lips like a mantra. Partly from being so close, the other from fear.
"Say you love me…say you love me or I drop your ass" her voice muffles against your neck as she bites down. Her hand sliding to cup the back of your head.
Your back arches off the railing as you give her more access to your neck. Peripheral vision illuminates the deadly drop. The buzz of the city growing in your ear.
"I'm not a liar" you whisper brokenly as your orgasm hits, the sheer defiance that could lead to your demise more intoxicating than her touch. Her fingers leave you to deliver a harsh clap to your dripping cunt.
"Please angel say it" she whispers, "don't deserve it but I need to hear it." She doesn't deserve it, she didn't have to leave you, didn't have to let you go through this journey on your own but she did. Because she convinced herself you deserved better just in case she failed. Her logic selfish and insecure, makes you cringe but you let her get this far. You invited her in again, so why not lie to soothe her.
Your quietness builds an anxiety she can't name, a twisting void in her stomach needing your validation. She's threatening to kill you both and all you can do is stare off.
"Baby please" her breathing ragged as her eyes lock with yours. Gaze frantic to your blown out pupils coming down from your high. She leans forward making you dangle. If you let her go, a foot slips, a hand moves too fast it's over.
The wind stands still and crisp around you, In a way it's poetic, romantic even in your eyes. That she'd be willing to claim you in the peaks of life and the journey of death if you admit you don't love her.
Slowly you slide your hand from her bicep to her cheek. Preparing to lie, even though you should say the truth, let her know she's not forgiven. Let her know she's pathetic, just like how she made you so lowly.
"I love you" claims the space as you finally look at her. Tone clipped, warmth only coming from the alcohol on your breath.
It makes her feel worse, that you almost chose death than lie to her…but that could be love. In it's own twisted way. A validation sick enough to satisfy her.
She pulls you both back and the two of you release of breath neither knew they were holding.
You fix your dress and she straightens her shirt, eyes glassy. Laughter fills the space. not from you two but from behind the door. The world spilling into your bubble.
Every emotion is crashing against you, the liquor, the lust, the pride fading. You almost died, she almost killed you…and you'd let her do it again.
Ellie's two steps away from the door when you say,
"Round two?"
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A/n: don’t even ask me about this semester🥀 anyways I hope y’all like it, I wanted to experiment with darker themes (I’m coming out of a dark place myself atm) but please don’t do nothing like this irl🙏🏿 love you all, take care of yourself. Mwah xoxo
Dividers- @strangergraphics
Taglist: @bambishaven @femme-historian @highnfemme @5seos @artemisdreamfairie @ellabswife @pramspams @wiinterz @genetrxworld @daisyluvsyourgf
