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aaaaand another one actually, whereâs gambling abby wit uh uhhh street racer (i think) ellie anâ y/n that gotta switchblade anâ b drugged anâ crashing out 90% of the time over both girls. truuuuuust I ainât forget. especially wit da mention of dina, yep yep ~ yuckyfucky
I wrote streetracer!ellie. much sadder than i originally hoped LOL but sheâs up somewhere
i will HAUNT the shit outta u if u ever give up on writing. itâs one thing if u donât have a passion 4 it anymore over time vs shit like imposter syndrome eating away @ ur god givinâ TALENT!
i need da whole thing, the damn catalogâwhaeva tf itâs called, on MY bookshelf! STAT! Ur writing jus gets that itch. it hits that damn spot that ion even bother tryna read other pplâs stuff nomore bcuz itâs not the same. itâs not urs. the characters donât come 2 life like urs, u canât dive in head first into a whole new world like urs. anâ im already picky as it is, ur writing has made it worse (complimentary).
the kinda shit i literally exit out of damn near every 5mins bcuz I donât want it 2 finish so soon. the lil handful of faves writers I had, they don deactivated anâ u jus CANT b another one. pls! <3
like omg omg, this ainât no âI love your work, donât quitâ light hearted, skippinâ in a flower field type shit, im bein so fr rn. ur stuff is bigger than fanfiction, like lets 2 the publishing. some hard ass book covers (anâ soft) next! ..im trying not 2 (lovingly, adoringly btw) curse u tf out, sounding all out of it anâ shi jus 2 get my point across .ognomgomgogmgogmgogmogm
~ yuckyfucky
TWWWINNNN HEYYYYY
hi baby omg thank u I never thought Iâd hear from u again where the FAWK u been at
ILL NEVER QUIT WRITING Iâm just not obsessed with characters that much anymore(due to being chronically online all my life). ellie will forever remain fav white girl but idk im not super in on fandom stuff like i used to be. IDK HOW TO ENJOY THINGS ANYMORE BC IM SO BUSY. literally writing means the world to me i just need to find something that sticks
iâve been a loading screen!! distracted af, existing gayly!! ya ya, we on the same timing bcuz im not into the fandom like dat nomore (i b lurking on ur page tho) but i love ur writing. thatâs y i gotta let u know that if u go ahead with branching into orig stories, like books from scratch, im paying!! trust!! (juuuuuus making sure 2 instill that idea into ur brain <3)
fanfiction is like putting in ur fave, v specific order anâ it hits the spot everytime..until it doesnât! they done switched the ingredients bcuz i jus love me a good plot, imagine, drabble, concept , alla dat! donât matter how short or long! but iâve found myself not lookinâ 4 it in the t.l.o.u. girlies specifically @ the moment (literally a whole yr later) but then again iâve questioned my experience wit fanfiction as a whole. like am i gna do this 4 every fictional character i like?? seems likely tho surprisingly havenât
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Is it okay to ask about the relationship between Ellie and reader is soul ties? How they truly feel about each other. Where will this lead them?
itâs actually kinda weird.
they sorta kinda became a very odd sense of comfort for each other. thereâs not much trust but there is an inkling, and for them thatâs honestly good enough. they are isolated by their family to such an extreme degree that literally anything that isnt verbal/physical abuse is likeâŚ. Oh yay a human with feelings. But they r very toxic and do not like each other(not necessarily due to their own traits but because they both embody what the other despises ie selfishness, wealth, disloyalty, dykes that r out lol)
theyâre literally just married. ring for ring and dassitâŚ.. ft crazy sexual tension that canât b acted on because oc psychologically rejects it due 2 her trauma.
howeverâŚ.. u didnât hear this from meâŚ.. but ellie thought oc looked gorgeous on their wedding day.
WARNINGS: THIS IS CRACK AND VERY UNSERIOUS! FT. AGGRESSIVE FLIRTING, oc is a big titty pansexual and the wendyâs robin hood, ellie is a butch-dyking, fry-dropping misandrist who frowns a lot, mentions of mary jay, MDNI: TIT AND SPIT PLAY, MILD DIRTY TALK
A/N: i literally have no plan for this itâs just for shits n gigs. obsessed with their dynamic lowkey first part LOL
This is not how Ellie thought sheâd be spending her 15: outside at 11:47PM with her best friend calling her loose.
âThis whole time, I thought, âwow, maybe Ellie has changed! Maybe she isnât easy anymoreâ, but look at you! It took one hotbox and a hot box toââ
She massages her temples, âRileyââ
âI canât lie and say y'all wouldnât be hot togetherâImma need that tape by the way, but Jesus Christ, get a gripââ
Whyâd Ellie think confiding in her best friend about her new friend would be a good idea? Whyâd she think befriending you in the first place was a good idea?
Youâve infiltrated her midnight sessions like a demonic witch. 3 days of pure torture: her waking up an hour before work steaming under her blankets, drenched in sweat and brain cursed with the image of you still with a full throat, only now⌠it follows her to work. Fuckass Wendyâs.
No oneâs caught onâexcept for Riley, fuck her intuitionâto the too long gazes shared between you, the playful shoulder bumps when you walk by her station, and the biggest one of allâŚ
As Riley put it, âtheyâre not leaving a snail trail on the tile anymore. I think you tamed âem a little. Good for you, friend.â
But Ellieâs not trying to tame you. You can do, talk to, fuck, who and whatever you please. She doubts sheâs made that much of an impact on you in such a short amount of time, but she does notice that youâre a bit more⌠chill? Chilled out? Still a menace, but slightly more selective with who you enchant.
That fucking shirt is still too tight, though.
And now, she wants to dunk whoeverâs accepted your muted salaciousness into her 400 degree oil tank.
Ellieâs not a jealous person⌠She wasnât, but thereâs a deep sense of rage that overtakes her whenever men men men compliment you. Itâs murderous, borderline sadistic what she envisions in her head while she throws their cheese slices on their limp. Dick. Fries. She despises their existence, wants nothing more than for them to die, or at the very least, shut the fuck upâ
âI invited them over tonight.â
â⌠WHAT THE FUCKââ
⌠Yeah. Ellie felt so guilty about rain-checking you last week, but her cat got sick. Her baby wouldnât stop vomiting.
A head pokes out from behind the back door, âUh, yâall break ended 7 minutes ago.â
⌠Clock watcher. Maybe Ellie doesnât hate all men. Jesseâs a guardian angel sent to protect her against the incoming force that is her best friend.
âBITCH, ITâS TUESDAY, WEâRE DEAD!â Riley shouts in his direction, âTHE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THEYâRE COMING OVERââ
âWhoâs coming over? Coming here? Health inspectors?ââ
âI needa pee.â Ellieâs already booking it towards the restroom, an excited Riley trucking close behind while Jesse panics about The Pope possibly eating at Wendyâs in the middle of fucking Wyoming.
âWHOâS COMING TONIGHT? HELLOOOââ
âYOUâYOUâRE FAKE AS HELL! YOU WAITED THIS LONG TO TELL ME ABOUT YâALLââ
âShut up, Iâm peeing, byeee, love ya, bye I needa pee, byeââ
The door shuts and locks, but she hears them yelling. A couple bangs on the door.
Just when she thought she found sanctuaryâŚ
âHey.â
You stand by the mirror adjusting your tits in your tight ass shirt. All buttons are undone today, just her fucking luck.
â⌠You didnât lock the door.â
âI wasnât pissing.â You hold Pennifer up in your hand like a trophy, and Ellie snickers.
âStarted without me?â
âWas fieninâ,â With no hesitation, you offer it over, âWanna pregame?â
She doesnât mean to snatch it, but sheâs a bit jittery. She puffs from, exhales in the opposite direction from you.
âI like when you do that.â Your tongue sounds larger in your mouth. Ellie has to puff again to keep from laughing.
âDo what. Get high on the job?â She whirs around smoke, but you ignore her.
âTough night?â You nod towards the door thatâs still being punched in by Riley.
âSomethinâ like that, yeah.â
âI HATE YOU, BITCH! NEXT TIME YOU WANNA SNEAK, LEMME KNOWââ
âDamn⌠what happened?â
âI just⌠I told her you were coming over tonight.â She hands Pennifer back.
Ellieâs surprised when you laugh. She half expected you to be irritated for snitching you both out to someone at work, was so prepared to ride for how trustworthy Riley is, that she wouldnât get you both fired for workplace flirting and potential bathroom fondling.
But you donât seem to care, just asks a simple question,
âShould I be concerned?â
She knows what youâre implying. Her head immediately shakes in denial. âI told you. Just a friend. Sheâs just nosy.â
âAlrighty,â you purr, and Ellieâs heart skyrockets when you take 2 steps closer. The bathroom suddenly feels like a funnel tube. Tight, closed-off, trapping, but she doesnât leave. The doorâs right there; she canât bring herself to open it.
The pounding suddenly comes to a pause before irritated footsteps vacate the outside.
Ellie canât stop the ache that blooms in her core or the watering of her mouth when both your hands rise to rest on your chest, the pudge poking through the gaps between your fingers. Either you're that soft, or youâre not wearing a bra.
âButtons or no buttons?â Asked with fluttery lashes.
Ellie swallows. âOne button.â For my fucking sanity, she wants to add, but you got enough ego to cover a goddamn army.
âHelp me? Full hands ân allat.â That bottom lip juts out slightly and your lashes flutter, and it takes everything for Ellie to not press your face against this filthy ass door. Never in her life did she think sheâd reach this level of depravity, but itâs been days. Days. Sheâs fucking starving for you.
Unfortunately, she has smidge of dignity, and wants you to keep yours.
So she buttons the last one, knuckles brushing against that small sliver of skin, taking in the way your pupils shake with every maneuver of her fingers. Your gaze alone could light a match. Start a forest fire. Burn this whole building to the fucking ground if you wanted.
âThanks!â You say in your usual bushy-tailed tone, gently shoving Ellie aside to unlock and open the door. âHi, favorite coworkers!â
The screaming stops, and Ellieâs head knocks back on the wall.
The last thing she wants to do is see her friends' faces. Rileyâs hollering is enough.
â⌠WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOING ONââ
Ellieâs sigh leaves her breathless.
â
âWelcome to my humble abode.â
Ellie shuts the door behind her, untangles her earplugs from around her neck to drop them, along with her keys, on the dining room table before shrugging her jacket off.
You were pretty quiet on the ride over. Made her a little nervous⌠A lot nervous.
âWhy, thank you.â Ellie canât hide her smile at your courtesy.
She watches your wandering eyes, moving all over her decorated walls, sloppy paint jobs, shredded up couch from kitten claws. She hopes you donât notice the coffee stain that she could never remove.
ââS very you.â
âI would hope so,â her feet carry her to the kitchen, âwant a drink? I haaaveâŚâ She inspects her fridge. Empty, minus the to-go box, 3 beers, and 2 jugs of berry Minute Maid.
⌠Awkward. Youâre a peckish pothead. Couldnât even bother to get you a meal on the way home. Dumbass.
âDamn, bitch, no water?â You laugh, and Ellie huffs.
âYouâre lucky I drank all my O-negative this morning. Youâd be pissing yourself.â
âSike, Iâd buss it wide open for a vampire.â
She flushes before shutting the fridge and guiding you to the couch with a hand on your back.
âWe matching? Or are you robbing me again?â You nudge her playfully before rummaging through your purse, and Ellie follows, pulling two jays out of her backpack.
Soon enough, your hands are stocked with Pennifer, a ziplock baggie of your own pre-rolls, and a⌠fucking butane lighter that your hand can barely close around.
âGoddamnââ
You cackle. âShut up! Couldnât find my pink one.â
âSo you brought a fucking campfire?â
âIf youâre gonna judge, you can spark yourself. Donât mind mââ
Ellie snatches your lighter with an eye roll that borderline launches them to her brain, flickering the lighter on. It feels like a fucking fireplace. Youâre ridiculous.
But youâre quiet. Ellie sparks the end with as much skill as you did last week.
Speaking of.
âSorry I had to cancel a few days agoââ
âNo need to be.â
âMy cat got sick and it freaked me out. So. Yeah.â
âAww, nooo,â you whine sympathetically. Even in your times of softness, that pout makes her lightheaded.
âWhere's the baby? Is it okay?â
âHeâs fine now. With my⌠dad.â She passes the jay to you. Watches you puff like a hawk, tinted chapstick smearing the edge. âI pick him up tomorrow.â
âThatâs good. Whatâs the babyâs name?â
âStewart.â She says stoically.
â⌠Is he orange?â
âYes.â
âI can tell. He fucked this couch up.â
Ellie smiles. âYou should see my room.â
âIs that an invite?â
Her heart stutters in her chest, but her gaze doesnât falter from yours. She simply takes the joint from your grip, speaks around her puff.
âItâs whatever you want it to be.â
âWell.â
âWell what.â She pins.
âI want your mouth on my tits.â
â⌠And I want your tits in my mouth.â She speaks through a dry throat and a thrumming core, your tone set deep in her bones.
You nod your head once before unbuttoning the button she buttoned for you earlier, leaving your greasy cloth on the floor.
âWell⌠Lean.â Your hands gesture backwards.
And Ellie does, back pressed against her couch cushions, joint hanging from her fingers, almost as low as her eyes. Her suspicions were correct: youâre that soft and braless. You throw a leg over her lap, tits jiggling in her face.
She nearly yanks you down onto her lap when your lips curl around the joint, the orange end cresting like the sun in the morning.
âSuck on âem.â Smoke wafts in her face and she curses low and broken.
Your nipple beckons her lips and your hand flies to yank at her hair, pleased whines leaving your lips and vibrating down to her toes. She can barely gather the strength to rub on you like she wants; sheâs too enraptured by your softness.
And your filth. That fucking mouth...
âYouâre eating âem up like a fucking slut.â You whisper in astonishment before pressing a kiss atop her head. Ellie moans around you in response, tongue swirling messily around your areola before suctioning your nipple, drinking in your satisfied squeaks.
One of your nipples is more sensitive than the other. It's cute how loud you get when her teeth rub on them. Just an inch. Enough to get you jumping on her lap like a bunny.
Theyâre so heavy on her tongue, so soft in her mouth. Sheâs sure her jeans are staining with her slick⌠and yours. She can practically smell you.
âEllie, âmâoh fuck, I might cumââ
Her muscles act on their own accord, her joint-less hand coming down to whack your ass, mouth popping off to spit sloppy on both your tits, rubbing her mess in with her tongue.
âYouâre so hot, youâre so hot, mâcumming, ohhh fuckââ
Your arm closes tight on the back of her neck, shoving her face tight against your breasts and she accepts that sheâll happily die here: under you, trapped by your scent and your skin and your yipped thanks for the nut.
You have to shove Ellie off your tits after your comedown, thighs clamping shut on her lap when her teeth nick your more sensitive nip, her mouth matching your chest in wetness.
âFuck.â She exhales, head plummeting on the back of the couch. Tokes one last time. Blows it in your face between giving you one.
âI thought you were a fucking prude when I met you. My fault.â You exhaust through heaves and clouds. She shakes her head uncaringly, massages your tit just to watch you twitch.
âYou want another one?â She asks plainly despite the throbbing between her thighs.
â⌠You serious?â
âYeah.â
âSure⌠After you show me whatâs in your nightstand.â
sr!ellie and gambler!abby being bffs just two freaky ass felons being followed around by some psycho bitch who snorts lines at the movie theater and has a switchblade obsession
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WARNINGS: HEAVY â OC IS A CSA VICTIM AND HAS DISASSOCIATIVE EPISODES[no depicted violence, just bad memories, but be cautious anyway], hypersexuality ft. internal conflict, anxiety, allusions to rough sex but nun actually happens, parental trauma/neglect, discussions of suicide, Ellieâs trying
A/N: read this first LOL. hello. my therapist told me to keep writing so eye am⌠Trying to. she is the embodiment of "dont kys, go to chilis." this is a vent. just sad and angry. BUT IM HERE THO!!! HEYYY
The gasps you drink reflect your suffering.Â
Ellie releases a pained groan into your mouth when her spine mashes against your bedroom doorâthe unfamiliarity of the space wracks her nerves, the ones that shoot flutters down to her toes and force her body to curl inward, but you trap her, no space between you and her and the shut entrance. Blisters bloom across her back with how hard youâre shoveling her into the wood.Â
Vulnerability has never come easy for her; how could it when every factor of the universe is set up to subdue and torture her very being? She views the world in black and white because she has to; her only means of survival is to eliminate the in between.Â
But still, she bares herself to you; allows you to dismantle the protective shellâthe barrier that stabilizes her with your sharp nails, raises her own wrists above her head to allow you more leverage, to steal from her, to stop herself from pushing you off her completely in feet of demonizing her own desires. Sheâll regret this when she wakes up, she knows it, but she needs this from you just as much as you need it from her. She can feel it whenever your teeth sink into her throat; she swallows the metallic tasteâyours or hers or a mixture of both, in her mouth like the blood is meant to bless her. To cleanse her of all pain.Â
She devours you when your mouths smash together; raunchy slashes of tongue and saliva where it gathers at the corners of both your mouth, how you sing your desires into her mouth while you tug at the damp strands in her scalp.Â
Buttons clatter to the floor when your hands wring Ellieâs Prada blouse in two, the expensive fabric dangling from her shoulders while you yank it from her body. She canât help the glowing grin when you burn holes into the valley of her chest, right where the formerly purple bruise shines yellow. Time heals wounds. Sheâll heal you; her ego will never deny it.Â
âYouâre so beautiful.âÂ
She whispers, all while you wish to burn her before feasting on the remains of her corpse. She feeds off that hatred, those flames in your eyes. Your soul rests behind them, fully exposed and boundlessâonly someone as conniving as your mother would think of destroying such beauty.Â
âDonât call me that. You donât deserve to.â
âDo I get a chance to earn that privilege?âÂ
âPossibly. If you deliver.âÂ
You test her, her prideâher greatest enemy. âWhat do you need from me?âÂ
You soften, albeit slight, but your harshness wavers, and that stuns her for a moment. Another burst of fire sizzles underneath her skin when your eyes lock, vision whirlwinds with suppressed emotions. They spiral and flip and tumble, all visible through the two entryways to your subconscious, and she watches it all, fingers itching to tame, to bring you back down to where she waits for your next move.Â
âI need you,â your tone remains hollow, âto do what good wives do and shut your fucking mouth.âÂ
Butterflies explode in her tummy. She remains silent as you undress, ragged and clumsy, yanking your dress by the shoulder straps until it rolls down your legs. You stand bare in front of her, only in your wedding ring and a chain that she realizes is hers, hands extended where they reach for her cheeks. They turn her skin crisp.Â
âWe couldâve been so much,â you whisper like a shameful confession, scanning over her in search of deception, another layer fallacy, but you know what she didâhas done, and could do again; she doesnât need to remind you of her errors anymore. Sheâs thankful you gave her the simple instruction of silence; sheâs drunk, but the liquor from tonight may not be the sole reason anymore.Â
âThank you for taking me tonight.âÂ
Thank you thank you thank you thank you
Deluded mumbles hit her cheeks in soft, but strained breathsâa heat that suffocates, strangles with a tenderness that she hates she loves.
âEllie?â You whimper over her mouth and she forces herself not to chase it, just nods to show you sheâs listening.Â
âDo to me what you do to them.âÂ
Horror jolts in her fingertips when they remember the pain she inflicted in the past, the anger she released onto one, three, five women at a time simply because she could. They were willing and desperate and so was she, so she swallowed their invitations and returned home with their scent on her hoping youâd hurt. Anything to show that you cared about her existence enough that her disloyalty caused you irreversible pain, even if it was disingenuous or short-lived or her own brainâs manipulation. All she had was time and she wasted it all on strangers. Itâs a result of her guilt if anythingâher imagination, her vice and grievance, would always display you on your back, on your stomach, scarred and bruised and bloodied like all those women she left to pleasantly weep in the middle of the night, and her heart stretches with longing.Â
She feels the beginnings of your nails digging into her face when she doesnât respond, all while you smile like a hyena as tears flood your eyes. Spit flies from your mouth and lands on hers when you beg her to, âfuck me, Ellie, please, please? Donât you want to hurt me? Iâm enough to destroy now, arenât I?âÂ
Being drunk traps you in delirium. Since when have you craved her approval this desperately? Your efforts were always there, but never to this extent⌠Or maybe they were but she ignored them, tricked her own brain into believing that she was the scum beneath your heels and youâd never waste your time seeking her out. You couldnât care this much. These are enhanced, alcohol-driven emotions that'll be meaningless the next day. Sheâs suddenly triggered to shield from you.Â
Her stern grip on your wrists alleviates the pressure you strain on her face, fingers limp and eyes cresting with needâto feast or to punish, she canât really tell, but sheâll accept either graciously. As long as you keep your distance. An internal, emotional gap. Thereâs a constant battle from within: a longing thatâs locked deep in her gut whenever she looks at you. Sheâll never be able to expose herself fully. She canât.Â
Ellie manages your wrists behind your back without hassle due to your pliance. You're finally still. Your breathing slows. Youâre almost calm, all at her touch.Â
How badly do you need me?
Never to be asked.Â
âHow badly do you need it?â She purrs against your face and your lashes flutter. Your bruised lips bare fangs.
âWould you like to feel?âÂ
Ellieâs breath shudders. She doesnât release the tight squeeze on your wrists despite the conniving Devil on her shoulder luring her to rip you apart; itâs a desire she can barely comprehend, but she canât shake her uncertainty. Even an invitation isnât enough reassurance. She sees it in your eyesâhesitance, distrust; pupils whirling elsewhere, filtered with red and desire and something completely black. A familiar void, one she despises.Â
âTell me.âÂ
âI did,â suddenly exasperated and twitchy like an addict, even against her grip, âI fucking did already. Iâm so wet, do what you like, Iâll let youââ
But Ellie wonât allow it. Your vision holds tales of pain, the same from her fatherâs party. Her head shakes when tears fall down your face.
âIâm notââ
âYou should! You should, you will! Itâs all I want, just, just pleaseââ
Show me what itâs supposed to feel like!Â
A slip up on your part, barely audible. To feel desired. To feel appreciated. To feel loved by someoneâanyone willing to put in the labor to do so, and gently at that. Youâve endured enough pain to last centuries. If only Ellie knew how much you withheld.Â
Sheâs the only one whoâs settled the hurt she caused within your life, or attempted to. A sole effort from her has changed you forever. Thatâs all youâve ever wanted; a guilty conscience. Someone with a soul that can mend errors.
So you beg her. You plead for her warmth like itâs your last wish. With given knees, you wail and holler for your wife to treat you like you matter for once. Merciless tugs fight against the tie in her belt, youâre shocked the leather doesnât shred from your hands. She never stops you. Is that a sign of enjoyment? She could be pleased by your desperation.Â
Your hands feel slimy when her belt loosens. She doesnât stop youânot when her slacks start to droop but catch on her hips, not when the lace on her underwear starts to peak. She never stops you. Not when your hands study every dot that coats her waist. Unlike when rough and angered fingers would attack yours, but still, she doesnât fight you. Is that a sign of displeasure? You freeze at the thought.Â
All these signs are unfamiliar; the physical ones from you and her. How her stomach trembles from the frost of your fingers, how yours twists in response to every sigh she gives you. Your mind blanks. What do you do? Where do you put your hands now? How do you touch her without recoiling? Has she recoiled since youâve plummeted? Does she not like this? Like you? Do you like this?Â
Where have you gone?Â
Thoughts interrupted by a prod.Â
âWhatâs going on up there?â Fingers softly press against your temple.Â
It doesnât matter. Nothing matters, and yet, youâre steady trying to find purpose. For these last moments, at least.
Warm fingers grasp your cheeks, stern. Not abrasive, but grounding. How does she always know how to stabilize enough to get a response? Ellie guides your eyes up to her.Â
âHm?â She murmurs between wobbly breaths.Â
You whimper something inaudible. Is her thumb caressing your cheek? Where have you gone?Â
âCan you stand?âÂ
Another empty sound, and Ellie sighs in defeat. Her hand drops from your face to snake beneath your armpits. She uses all her strength to get your unsteady stature off the floor before guiding you to the mattress. You give into your kneeâs weakness before plummeting onto the cushiony blanket.Â
âLook at me.â And your eyes find the trail of light brown peeking from beneath her panties. She snorts stupidly before redirecting your gaze to hers once more.Â
âLook here. Youâre not gonna talk to me?â
No energy to. Just empty wanton. Frilled desire. Whyâre you so confused?
âWe can go to sleep right now.â
And do nothing? Maybe she isnât that attracted to you.Â
âWe can just go to sleep. Itâs up to you.âÂ
Itâs up to you.Â
Itâs up to you.Â
Your heart gives a painful throb. For the first time ever in your life, choice lies at your feet; one where you can turn away and forget, or another where you can give in.Â
Options. Autonomy. Consent. It takes a minute for your brain to register what it all means.Â
You do speak. You have room to speak. Ellie allows you to without punishment.Â
âCan IâŚ?âÂ
A painful curiosity that bloomed within you some time ago, what it would be like to be the one that leads for once. An aching terror overwhelms you like it always does. Too much power. What if you hurt like youâve been hurt? Youâd die before harming another, but would you? Ellie fell victim to your aggression in the car: an uncontrollable outburst, but still, she could infuriate you again, and what will you do?Â
Would you become your biggest fear?
âWhat, babe?âÂ
Gentle inquisitions. They calm and wrack you all the same. Your words weigh heavy and thick in your throat. How do you ask for what you envision? What do you say? You take her warm hand and place it on your shoulder. It lays gracefully; her nails donât puncture skin or pin you to stillness. This is a start. You havenât sunk yet.Â
Tell me or I leave.Â
She whispers like itâs painful. Compassion clouds her vision from beneath the alleviated craving for you. She doesnât mean it.Â
Donât hurt me. You croak weakly. The implication thankfully falls on deaf ears. Iâll never forgive you.Â
Wouldnât dream of it, Ellie wants to say, but can she? She doesnât have to imagine whatâs already been done. She broke the pact that twines you two together immediately after promising you devotion. Every mistake she has made stares back at her now; all her faults are now worn by you, this time without grace. She feels monstrous.Â
Her chest lurches when you, unexpectedly but slowly, turn your head to mouth at her wrist. Despite your hesitancy, the cushion of your lips and the jittery exhales of your breath launch goosebumps up her arm.Â
You take her other hand and hold it.Â
You just hold where it rests by your knee, the squeeze of your palm light.Â
No other efforts are made by you. You donât pull and twist her in every direction, manipulate her body in ways you want. Youâre hardly touching her, so why do her knees crumble, stature only kept up by the strength of her dignity?
She allows you to nuzzle her hand and pinch at the skin of her forearm, following each line in her skin with your fingertips.Â
Sheâs unsure of the time that passes, hypnotized by your gestures.Â
âIâm your wife.â You say hushedly.
âYou are my wife.â Ellieâs response is dazed, and your grin is menacing.Â
âYouâre my wife, Ellie.âÂ
She wheezes when she lands on top of you, yanked by the hand you grasp, bodies melded. Ellie's heart flies to the pit of her stomach before coming to rest in her throat at your heat.Â
âYouâre my wife! I have a wife!â Youâre cackling, and Ellie can't stop her incredulous grin.Â
âYouâre an idiot.â She huffs, and you squeeze her closer by the neck. To your surprise, she hugs you back with just as much abrasion. Kisses litter across her face, lips passing over the blooming bruise on her cheek to make her wince. She only nuzzles closer. Sheâs never this affectionate towards you.Â
Ellieâs selfish. This shouldnât be happening. She doesnât deserve this sudden contentment but she canât stopâyou or herself. Is this all sheâs capable of? Taking what she hasnât earned?Â
Tonightâs the final night. No more thievery. Sheâs tired of playing the villain.Â
You choke a gasp when she melds your lips together, soft and protruding. Her eyes are blissfully shut while yours arenât, wild and shaken and filled with desire that only emboldens your anxiety.Â
âTell meâtell me what I can do to make it better.âÂ
And the moment of serenity is lost, body locked tight from below, eyes overcast. That blockade, that wall that never seems to come down despite your own efforts. All her attention is on you. Youâre not sure if you like or hate it.Â
âJust, just kiss me ââ
Hurriedly and hollowly, you whisper, and Ellie follows with tender intent.Â
This isnât what you imagined. Sheâs kissing you too softly. Too timid and patient. This isnât your Ellie but itâs the Ellie youâve dreamt of for the duration of your marriage. The version youâve idolized has finally erupted from the cages of fire with feathery wings attached to her back to rest on top of youâyou should be happy, you should be proud that your prayers of love have come to fruition.Â
Why arenât you? Why do you suddenly crave her violence, to suffer in her?Â
Hatred makes you angry, and anger gets you off. You crave that recklessness in your wife, the one that handles you like glass she longs to see crack.Â
Ellie slacks her jaw in a moan when your nails dig into her scalp and fingers coil in her hair. Her head lifts and neck cranes with the grip of your hand, and you smile.Â
How pathetic is your wife? How pathetic can you make your wife? She blinks like a lovestruck kitten.Â
âLook at you.â Awe laces in your timbre and Ellie shudders atop you, âmy wife is so pretty.â You snicker when her hips move into yours before her brain can register it. Vehemently, the once endearing term gets spat up at her.Â
âRemember what you told me earlier?âÂ
âI said a lot of shit, didnât I?â She snips sarcastically. She knows. You know.Â
âOne thing in particular stuck out.âÂ
âEnlighten me, then.âÂ
âYouâre a desperate whore.âÂ
Instead of rebutting, she laughs, dark and wilted.
âJoin the club. Itâs fun over here.âÂ
The reason she always finds herself in trouble; reckless and unapologetic, âthat mouth isââ
She interrupts playfully. âReally fucking talentedââÂ
Lust flares beneath fields of green when Ellie lands on her back, gaze piercing through the skin of your face, your torso, the lowest parts of you before traveling back up.Â
Her mouth drops around swallowed syllables when your open palm squeezes across her throat. She chokes an unfamiliar sound, high and wheezy â foreign to the deep brushes of her tone.Â
What an embarrassing time to freeze up. Your breath wracks when you examine how prepared Ellie is for you to rob her of pleasure, still entangled beneath her pants when she should mirror you, naked and vulnerable to match her submission.Â
âWhat, baby? Teââ she chokes when your hand closes harder on her, âtell me. Lemme show you how good I can be.âÂ
âTalk to me, honeyâtell me whatâs wrongââ
âWhat next? What do I do now?âÂ
âWhatever you like, âm here, just use me,â Ellie implores.
âI donât know what I like.âÂ
âWe can try anything, justâfuck, just give me something to work with. You still wet?âÂ
That isn't the problem. It never has been. Itâs where your mind wanders, the looming shadow that dominates the most sensitive parts of you. Your head blanks when two fingers slip between your legs. Youâre not surprised, but Ellie seems to be when you display the nectar that glues your fingers together. Her expression is comical and thirsty.Â
âGood. Good, baby. Still wanna do this? You still here with me?âÂ
You are. Shockingly, youâre here.Â
âCan I touch you?â
Yes. With skepticism. Your head bobs.
Her brow arches, âYou sure?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
Soft but calloused fingertips dig into the meat of your hips before she whispers, follow my hands, just move on top of me. Your hands encase her forearms for leverage.Â
Electricity zips through your body when Ellie ushers you forward, the most sensitive part snagging on the lace incisions of her panties, the frost of her undone zipper. Darkness ascends your vision, eyes shut tightly out of acute satisfaction, out of fear. Attempts of disregarding your bewilderment only intensify it. Your bodyâs reacting how it should, though. You think you like it?
Donât think about it. Donât think about it.Â
Your wife speaks to you so tenderly yet none of it registers; she talks a lot and for once it doesnât enrage you. Her voice is quite grounding. Your chest pounds with the steady thrum in your stomach.Â
Look at me.Â
You shouldnât. Why do you?Â
Ellieâs flushed beneath you, hair erratic and chest bruised with you. Lightly blotched with others. Makes you want to strangle her.
âStill good?â The sensuality in her tone doesnât make you cower. Instead, your breath shudders around a floaty sound. You try to mask the eagerness in your nod.Â
âThen keep going. However you want to, do what feels good.âÂ
It feels good now. Will the pleasure last? Your body tries to convince your mind that itâs finally safe to indulge in every hidden delusion that youâve envisioned with your wife. Why wouldnât it; your body is selfish. Ellie gets you wet and you think itâs the same for her. Youâre not sure. You havenât touched yet.Â
Should you?Â
Right as youâre building the courage to ask, Ellie moves you just right, a bit too skilled the way your pussy drags on top of hers, and your tummy squeezes a high noise from your throat.Â
Yeah? She mumbles so darklyâso encouragingly; she wants you louder. She secretly loves knowing that she makes your brain fuzzy. You manage to say her name through jumbled cries, all while your core squeezes into an undoable knot. Your wife lets you have it. She doesnât switch positions so that you feel better for her, doesnât throw you on your back to take what she needs, doesnât humiliate you until you cry and attempt to shove her off.Â
She just watches. Silently. Patiently. Eagerly anticipating the shattering of your strained barrier.Â
âDid you think about me when you fucked them?âÂ
Everytime. All the time. She thinks, her admission coming out in moans when your pace quickens. Â
âAre you thinking about them right now?â You spit, and her head shakes with vehemence.Â
âFuck no.âÂ
Should Ellie declare that sheâd rather be publicly executed than see any of them over you? A laugh chokes around a groan. Neither of you know who it belongs to.Â
âWhere do you keep that pretty toy?âÂ
âW-Which one?âÂ
âOh?â Ellieâs fangs flash when a new warmth spreads over her waist; her own desires mix with the stickiness of yours. âYou know which one.âÂ
ââM closeââ you think. You think.Â
âThen cum.âÂ
âIâfuck, I canâtââ
âWhat do you need?âÂ
âMore, inside me, pleaseââ
Ellie raises you just enough for her fingers to wiggle between your bodies, lines of slick connecting you to her stomach, curl already set when you hold her wrist to ease her in. She shudders at your warmth, teeth grit and neck strained to watch you.Â
âYouâre so soft.â She mutters thoughtlessly. Gasping when you squeeze down on her. Your teeth guard a laugh.Â
Neither of you move.Â
Your sudden stillness locks Ellie in place, muscles trembling from her restraint where she rests inside, scared to scare you.Â
She doesnât like the look you give; lost, shrouded in darkness. Her stomach sinks.Â
âIâm pulling outââ
âNoâjust, just wait.âÂ
She listens against her better judgement, watching every minor expression with cautiousness. The twists of your lips, how you shovel above in attempts to adjust to the feel of her knuckle deep.Â
âEllie.âÂ
âYeah, honey.âÂ
âI donât like it.âÂ
Your face cringes in discomfort when she pulls out. Thereâs whirring in your chest: of unease. Expectancy. When clouds and deep blue and feathers blossom in your vision, you know. This is where you hurt.Â
âI thought I wouldââ You sound ashamed and Ellieâs heart cracks, âDonât explain. Youâre fine.âÂ
âI donât like this.âÂ
Thereâs a lift in you. Not a light one; premeditated right before a lengthy fall.Â
âOkay, babe.âÂ
Only then does your facade of strength crack. âI-I donâtâEllie, I donâtââ
âShhh, weâre done, itâs okayââÂ
But itâs not okay. Youâre not okay and he knew it for years and didnât care, your mother didnât careâno one cared when you hid under your bed frame, when you wet the bed in the middle of the night, when you threw tantrums about showering unclothed. All signs met with emotionless walls. No sympathy. From a mother, of all people, the only one that was meant to save you, protect you from all harm. But she wished it on you the second you were born. The second she met him, with full pockets and filth. Her one true match.Â
Little you is screaming, and your wife hardly has enough strength to catch you when you plummet.Â
It all flashes before youâEllie sitting you up, grabbing your face, talking talking talking, but your ears are stuffy. A familiar routine: crying and begging for who knows what, but you canât stop, all while Ellie holds you through it.Â
Birds birds birds birds birds birds birds birds
Feathers feel like arms compressed tight around your back while you cry for your dad.Â
The sun is on the brink of rising, specks of daylight creeping between the blinds of the bathroom. The birdsâ golden hour.Â
Ellieâs probably somewhere in the house bored, uninterested, disappointed by how the night unfolded. How could such heat go ice cold in a matter of seconds? Her desire probably weakens every time she interacts with you.Â
But you couldnât do it. Whatever came over you at the club or bar or sex ring is long gone, your body a husk for your inner child, raised by terror. Intimacy breaks you like no other. Or maybe youâre still too drunk. You hardly remember what happened over the past week. Tonight will probably be another win for your trailing memory. You hope it is.Â
All you can think aboutâfeel, is loss. Alcohol never does you any good. This is your final vow to never drink again.Â
âYouâre gonna prune.âÂ
Being naked around any other personâyour maids, your stylists, your mother when she pokes at your appearance in disappointment and envyâmakes your stomach lurch, but you never feel like that with Ellie. Youâre not sure why; you should, sheâs still her. Someone who was forced into your life, another example of your motherâs need for control, but the instinct to hide from her is never there.
âIâm sure thatâd please you.âÂ
âWhat makes you say that?â
âYour obsession with, and I quote, old, wrinkly MILFS.âÂ
â⌠Gotta point,â She huffs. Her timbre takes a second to wrack your ears, a gentle bristle when she asks, âYou okay?âÂ
Are you?Â
Lying has become a habit of protectionâlying would be good in this scenario; Ellie hasnât commented on your sudden aloofness and yet you feel exposed to the bone under her scrutiny. Your years long training of being docile, mastering submission, always answering with yes, of course, I will, words meant to pacify the enemy, your future partner, him⌠why havenât you used any of it? Just lie.
Water surrounds you, but your throat shuts with its own paranoia of your response.Â
âEllie?â
She hums her own.Â
âWill you hold me? Like you did before.âÂ
When you finally grasp the courage to look at her, her eyes arenât where they should be.
Not gazing over your bare chest, drinking in your natural seduction, but locked onto your face, hunting for something in your eyes that she can't find, a cast of disappointment overshadowing when she finally surrenders. That same look from the dinner party, from before you disappeared in the bathroom; the look of worry, of curiosity, of pain.Â
Does she cower just as often as you?Â
â⌠Sure.â She whispers before swallowing her shock, just as youâve done yours.Â
Ellieâs seen you undressed more than youâve seen her; that must explain her hesitance, you think. Her gaze never shies from yours and she watches closely, albeit too close, popping every button of her sweaty, booze-drenched shirt while she gauges you. Your brain swirls with curiosity; what exactly is she seeking?Â
She shrugs the cloth from her shoulders and you shove down the instinct to gawk at her bare skin. She mumbles so lowly that you miss it, you ask her to repeat it.Â
âGood?âÂ
Timidity radiates off her and hits you; her emotions flammable, and your skin ignites with warmth. You barely nod for her to continue. She seems dissatisfied by your gesture but she doesnât push.Â
Ellie checks in with every layer of clothing that lands on the bathroom floor; every decorative ring and necklace is slung uncaringly before the shower door opens. Smoke dispels from between the glass. Sheâs cautious when she teases a foot past the foundation of the shower, silently asking for permission to enter, but youâre already making space for her; one meek step after another until the water cascades from her hair to her neck, the night washing away.Â
Before her arms entrap you, you ask,âwhy not that one?âÂ
âHm?âÂ
You point to the dainty chain that gleams from around her bruised throat. Itâs simple; rose gold with a small sphere in the middle. âWhyâd you leave it on.âÂ
âDoes it matter?âÂ
âI should be asking you that.âÂ
âItâs⌠it was my momâs.â Ellie goes rigid, tone indifferent, but you tolerate it. Whenever her mother is brought up, she reacts similarly. You understand in a way; her own manner of shutting down. To each their own. âI wear it whenever I leave the house.â
âItâs pretty.âÂ
âThanks.âÂ
Her brow arches, âdid you have fun?âÂ
âYou asked me that already.âÂ
âIâm asking again.âÂ
â⌠Yes, I had fun. Thank you.âÂ
Her light laugh leaves you befuddled.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âUnder different circumstances, you wouldâve been pissing yourself about your momââ
âI hate my mother.âÂ
Tears build in your eyes at your declaration but you donât mind. In fact, you welcome them. You donât have many moments where youâre allowed to break without judgement. Ellie allows you to have that, at least, and youâre grateful.Â
âYou never answered her call, did you?âÂ
âDoes that bother you?â
âNo. Iâm just surprised her super secret allegiance hasn't kicked in our doors.âÂ
In times of distress, you wished to be like Ellie; incredibly sereneâas much as she could beâwith her doomed fate. No situation passes without her taking cracks at it. Your own body is your demise; so accepting to doom itself in other ways, ones that lead with impulsivity. Ones with one end.Â
âI think Iâm done.âÂ
âWith?âÂ
âEllie⌠I think Iâm done.âÂ
It takes her a minute, a silent and confused one before it hits her. Thereâs a darkness that overcast the forest in her eyes at your insinuation; inklings of fear dominate her visionâfrom the certainty of your tone, maybe. You needed one last memory, one last semblance of joy to take with you when your soul makes its departureâshe made that happen for you despite your tumultuous relationship.Â
You just need one more thing. Is it selfish to expect her to provide it?Â
Ellieâs at a loss; mouth circling around words that remain unsaid. You almost laugh. Until she asks,
âWhatâs the plan?â
âWhat.â
âYou're not the only one thatâsâŚâ She shrugs. Suicidal. Itâs not taboo in your world, it seems; death will never be taboo, itâs freedom. âIâm curious. Whatâs your method? I always wondered what it would feel like to run into oncoming traffic.â
Despite the darkness, you smile like youâre reminiscing. Like you felt the impact of a car before. âMy dad loved to drive by this bridgeâŚâ
âI think itâd be nice, the feeling of falling, and then just⌠nothing after. Just quiet.âÂ
Ellie takes in your rambles, holds them close while that blackness overtakes your pupils. Sheâs come to accept how much she despises your sorrow.Â
âHe wouldâve never let this happen to meâŚâÂ
Memories of your father come and go, but oddly, that bridge that stands over that man-made lake in the middle of the city remains at the forefront whenever you think of him. He would take you on drives and speak to you with softness after your mother screamed at you about whatever she felt fit in the moment. Youâve accepted that heâs guiding you thereâto him. He misses you, he needs to see you again.Â
âAnd my mom wouldâve never let this happen to meâŚâ Your wife whispers alongside you. Sheâs the only one that understands.Â
âWhen are you⌠leaving?â Ellie lightly treads with her choice of words; itâs endearing how uncomfortable death makes her. You believed she embodied sin some time ago, but now⌠she wears hollowness incredibly well.Â
âIâm not sure yet.â
â⌠Are you sure about it?â
âYes.â
She sighs, the air weighted. âWhatâs one thing you want before you go?âÂ
Your brain knows. Your body knows. Your heart knows. Your grin is immediateâthe image of colors, sunsets and rises, the plush of feathers and the caress of winds.Â
All youâve ever wanted since you were a kid.Â
âA bird, Ellie. I want a bird.â
âAnd?â Desperate hands latch onto your shoulders, ripped from your sanctuary. Trapped in reality. She lightens your grasp when you shrink.Â
âThatâs all.âÂ
Said with such assurance that Ellie flinches. A strange sensation washes over her in piercing heat, painful. Jealousy, remembering the countless times on the edge of a cliff, a building, eyeing a chair with rope in her hand, but otherwise, left unharmed. Physically at least. Unfortunately, she breathed the same on the walk back to solitude. Or prison.Â
You arenât a coward like she was. She despises the feeling of envyâshe isnât prone to it, but youâre so sure about the one thing, the only thing, she couldnât have. Not an inkling of doubt of your true desire.Â
Freedom.Â
She just stands and stares with an incurable ache in her chest. You embody both a tranquil pond and a hurricane, and Ellieâs caught in both currents.Â
Her hands slide down your arms like water, steaming, urgent to heal, only to rise again, to rest of your neck before grasping your cheeks. This time, itâs you who initiates, who pulls her closer, who kisses first: delicate melds of your mouth that hold no motive other than to breathe. Relearned instinct that fills your lungs with her air, one that brings comfort.Â
Her arms feel like blankets, chest like soft grass in the Spring. Just an eager body in desperate search for rest.Â
okay finally read in frameâŚ.. THAT WAS TEWWWWWWWWW GOODâŚ.. although i feel bad for oc, i think itâs very realistic for these people who used to love her having a hard time forgiving her. i like that you wrote it this way as having them kiss and makeup shows no growth and provides no tension. although i really wish abby and her get to talk at some pointâŚ.. the unrequited love thereâŚ. 𫦠also oc being ellieâs first⌠AND ONLYâŚ.. GAGGEDDDDDD MEâŚ. maybe im crazy but have u ever watch moonlight⌠u know when chiron tells kevin that heâs the only man thats ever touched him⌠YeahâŚyeah
GLAD U ENJOYED IT HONEY PIE!!!!! VIRGIN!ELLIE TRUTHERS WE HAVE TO STICK TOGETHERâŚ.. and moonlight is so fucking timeless literally just watched it for the billionth time last week
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