lovrsin

[lovrsin]

how hard can you slap (flirting)

[lovrsin]

eee so excited for this new theme it’s gonna b so cute :33

[lovrsin]

just so there’s no “speculations” that i’m rude, i’ll come out and say it for everyone— if you make blogs like this you need to get on indeed.com immediately, like yesterday. find something better to do with your time. drink some matcha, bounce on some dick, smell some flowers… this is not the way, ladies !!!

[lovrsin]

It's a Bad Idea, Right?

Synopsis: Cooper thanks you after you bring Riley home from her extra credit classes.

Warnings: nsfw, fem!reader, author hasn't seen the movie yet (oops!), single dad!Cooper, older man/younger woman dynamics, soft dom!Cooper if you squint, maybe even some size kink?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

I stopped using taglists but since Cooper fics have been highly anticipated...👀 @emetselchsimp @gothcsz @babygorewhore 🖤

Read part 2 here!

Being a teacher's aid at a highschool wasn't all that glamorous. Actually, being a teacher's aid wasn't glamorous, period. But there was the occasional perk, like meeting Riley's dad during a parent teach conference after she began to fall behind on some of the work.

"It's not that she's missing assignments, Mr. Adams, please don't misunderstand." The social studies teacher, Mr. Langley, waved away the concern. "She's confided in us that she's having difficulty with the material, that's all."

You note the way Riley's dad seems to relax in the hard plastic seat he'd been provided, the same kind you were sitting in but next to Mr. Langley's desk, hands clasped in your lap as you listened intently.

You didn't usually sit in during these meetings but you'd be getting your own degree in teaching in a few months, so you wanted to see how conversations like these were conducted. Having been warned up and down about difficult parents, you had steeled yourself for an argument when you saw Cooper Adams walk through the door that all of a sudden seemed tiny next to his broad form, but he'd been open to the conversation from the start.

"Okay," He breathes. "So what's the next step? Surely not more homework, she's got enough of that already."

Mr. Langley smiles appreciatively. "Quite right. No, I think she'll do just fine in some after-school classes if you'll be amenable to that?"

"Will the busses be running that late?"

"Well, no, unfortunately." Mr. Langley winces sympathetically. "The classes run from the time school lets out at three o'clock and ends at four, so you'd have to pick her up."

Cooper sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Okay. Um, I'll sign her up for it and figure it out. When does she need to start?"

"Next Monday. I'll just need your signature on this parental slip."

You watch as he signs the form and shakes Mr. Langley's hand then your own with a much gentler grip that leaves you tingling when he releases your hand and proceeds to leave the classroom.

"That went well." You comment happily, making Mr. Langley chuckle as he passes your bag to you from the cabinet he has underneath his desk. A man of few possessions, Mr. Langley had given you free reign of the classroom and subsequently, his cabinets, seeing as everything he needed could be carried in his pockets.

And everyday he handed you your purse before he escorted you out, not because he didn't trust you to lock up but because he was, quote unquote, "an old man who sometimes found it difficult to let old habits die".

"Mr. Adams has always been very accommodating." He agrees as he pats the pockets of his outdated corduroy blazer for his keys. "He's raised a good girl."

Riley was a good girl. A straight-A student with a bright outlook on life, she had easily become one of your favorites to help teach and it was no secret that she adored you back, having confided in you specifically when she was having trouble keeping up in class. You had no doubt that she would catch back up with a little more care on the teacher's part.

"Goodnight, Arty." You pat Mr. Langley's shoulder affectionately as he makes for his beloved beamer.

"Goodnight, my dear." He waves a wrinkled hand and you steer the other direction to where your own car is parked in the shade of a tree. After groaning with discomfort at the hot air that greets you when you open the door and cranking the air conditioner as high as it will go, you notice Riley's dad is talking with her, both of them leaning against a black minivan.

Feeling a light bulb go off above your head, you pull the car alongside then, reveling in the immediate grin that breaks across Riley's face when she sees it's you.

"Hey, kiddo." You smile back before looking at her dad. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah, just deciding on what kind of junk food I'm going to feed the monster tonight." He chuckles when Riley shoves at his shoulder but barely succeeds in budging him.

"Ahh, well," You rest your chin on the windowsill, enjoying the blast of cold air from your vent. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't having any car trouble."

"Thanks." He nods appreciatively. "You're the TA, right?"

"Yep, that's me. And you're Mr. Adams."

He wrinkles his nose. "Ugh, just Cooper, please."

Your answering laugh makes Riley smile as she puts her arms around his waist, hugging him absently. She looks tired, like she might doze off soon.

"I heard there was some fun in the gym today." You tilt your head at her and she smiles again as Cooper smooths some of her unruly blonde curls away from her face.

"Coach let us play dodge ball the whole time. I was so tired."

"I bet you worked up an appetite."

"Yeah." She cranes her neck. "Can we have Chinese food?"

"Oh, look at that." He marvels. "She finally decided. Yes, we can have Chinese food."

"Yes!" She beams with all the joy of a younger child and taps her feet excitedly before rushing over to the passenger side of the minivan. "Let's go, let's go!"

"Slow down." He jokes, looking at you amusedly as he opens his door. "I'm an old man."

"Oh wait, I meant to ask you something." You sit up and lean a little more out of the window. "I know we don't really know each other, but I don't mind driving Riley home after school if you don't have any other option."

He seems to pause at that, brown eyes twinkling curiously. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course. She's a good kid and I'm planning on being here during those classes anyway, so I figured, why not?" You think Mr. Langley will forgive you for borrowing his words—especially since they're true. And Rily doesn't deserve a bad grade when she's obviously still trying hard.

"Huh." He says thoughtfully. "That's awfully kind of you." He glances at Riley, currently engrossed with something on her phone. "Can I let you know by Friday? I might be able to work something out with my boss and I wouldn't want to put you out unnecessarily."

"Sooo, you'd only want to put me out if it was necessary?" You bite your lip to keep from laughing at your own joke and he shakes his head good-naturedly.

"You must be the one teaching my kid all these crappy jokes."

"Um, I am highly offended. All my jokes are good jokes."

"Sure, sure." He nods patronizingly before giving you a crooked grin. "So. Friday?"

"Friday." You wave as they leave, willing yourself not to squeal like a fangirl on the way home.

Riley gives you Cooper's number on a sticky note and after a quick call, you're set to take his daughter home twice a week.

"I'll make sure she gets in the house okay before I drive off." You had promised over a stack of papers you were helping grade. "I used to get stuck outside on occasion when I was a kid whenever I forgot my key."

His chuckle on the other end stirs up butterflies in your belly.

"Thanks. I really do appreciate it."

"Not a problem." You reassure him happily.

Riley's smart enough that she starts to improve almost immediately, so a month later it's clear the classes are no longer needed. And while you're happy for her and the fact she's not only caught up but enjoying the material, you can't help but feel a little sad that you won't get to drive her home anymore. You had bonded over a shared love of music despite there being clear differences, and Riley had even made a playlist for the two of you to listen to on the drive home, with some of your favorite songs and some of hers.

"I wish you could drive me home all the time." She says on the last day, having been uncharacteristically quiet from the moment she hopped in the car. When you glance at her she has tears brimming in her eyes and it breaks your heart.

"Oh, honey." You reach over and squeeze her hand. "You'll still see me everyday at school, it's not like I'm going away."

"I know." She sniffles, leaning across the console to rest her head on your shoulder. "I still hate it though."

You tsk sympathetically and drape your arm around her shoulders, despite the console digging into your side (and probably hers). "I know, hon. I know."

When you finally pull up to her house, you dry the tears that have escaped down her cheeks with gentle wipes of your thumbs.

"I'm sorry," She says softly. "I know I'm being stupid."

"Oh, no no no." You shake your head. "You're not being stupid Riley, you're feeling. It's okay to feel."

Her lip wobbles and you immediately unbuckle your seat belt so you can wrap her up in your arms, shushing her quiet sobs. You see movement out of the corner of your eye and you're surprised to spot Cooper at the door, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He's not usually here so early in the afternoon.

When he doesn't see anyone get out he slings the towel over his shoulder and walks to the car, concern filling his eyes when he sees what's going on.

Opening the door, he peers his head in, eyes growing frantic. "What happened—?"

"It's okay." You smile gratefully as Riley looks over and holds her hands out for Cooper to pull her to him. Despite her growing age, Riley was a daddy's girl through and through, and right now she needed him. "We're just a little sad our trips are over."

"Oh." He murmurs in understanding, rubbing her back. "Well...why don't you have dinner with us? As a thank you."

Riley perks up, anguish momentarily forgotten. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" Cooper grins at you. "What do you say?"

The woman inside of you that has what you've started to refer to as a "silly crush" on him wants to jump at the chance, but the possible consequences race through your mind. He seems to sense your hesitation.

"Riley, why don't you go set the table? I'm almost done making spaghetti."

"Kay." She grabs her backpack and disappears inside while Cooper closes and leans against the door.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." He says. "Or if you have other plans."

"No, no, I don't. I just don't know if it's a good idea."

God do you want it to be a good idea, though.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," You fiddle with your hands in your lap, thinking back to the early psychology classes you took as part of your degree. "I think Riley might see me as a mentor, of sorts, and mixing work and school might not be good for her. She might start seeing me as a..."

You pause, wincing. "Maternal figure?"

His eyes widen in understanding. "Oh."

"Well," He says after a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "If there was anyone she was going to see as a maternal figure, I'd rather it be you."

Your brows shoot up towards your hairline as you try to process that, noting the way he becomes a little sheepishas he explains himself.

"You're a good person, and she can see that. She adores you, talks about you all the time..." He shrugs. "I get it—where you're coming from—but you won't know until you try, right?" His brown eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sun, resembling pools of honey. "So come have dinner with us, at least as a thank you from me."

You know you should hold out and continue resisting, but the fact is you can't. You can't think straight when you're dealing with a man who probably doesn't even realize he's making doe eyes at you.

"Okay." You relent, a small smile breaking across your face.

"Okay." He echoes, waiting for you to kill the car and get out so he can walk you to the front door.

You're immediately hit with the mouthwatering aromas of spaghetti and meatballs when you walk in and after Cooper insists you take a seat while he sets steaming crockery on the table, you're sat across from him and next to Riley and taken with how domestic this all seems.

The longer dinner goes on the more you don't want to leave. It's only when you start helping put things away that Riley gives you a hug that leaves you feeling strangely sentimental as you watch her go up to bed.

"She likes you." Cooper muses. You prop your chin up with your hand as you lean against the counter and beam happily.

"I like her, too."

The look in his eyes morph into something different, something intense and molten. "For what it's worth, I like you, too."

Your lips part in mild shock; you don't know what to say to that.

He takes the opportunity to come closer, looking every bit a dangerous predator. He towers over you and makes you crane your neck to look at him beneath your lashes, and he's broad, God he's broad.

"Cooper—" You hate how small your voice sounds so you swallow, try again. "You really shouldn't—"

"Shouldn't what, sweetheart?" He murmurs, knuckles grazing your chin. "I'm just thanking you, aren't I? Let me do this for you."

He's kissing you with fervor before you can try to rationalize it, tell yourself you shouldn't get involved with a student's parent, but he's so demanding with his tongue in your mouth and his teeth grazing your jaw that all coherent thoughts escape you as he leaves you breathless and clutching at the granite behind you, before he takes that control away too and hoists you up to deposit you on the counter, slotting himself between your legs.

Even his hands are demanding as he squeezes your breasts through your shirt, prompting a gasp that he's cutting off with a firm grip around your throat. "Gotta be quiet, honey. Can you do that for me?"

You feel your face warm as you nod, leaning back on your elbows when he divests you of your jeans and underwear.

"Good girl." He praises as he kneels, forcing your knees to stay spread on either side of his shoulders. "Stay just like that."

Feeling his warm breath on your center makes you want to both run away and preen in response to the awed pride in his voice when he notices.

"Poor thing," He murmurs as he brushes a knuckle along your slit, making you bite your lip. "You must be so miserable like this."

If you had any words to answer him, they're long gone when he starts lapping at your cunt, pulling little breathless sighs from your parted lips. You end up falling back and laying your head down as you give into your desires, undulating your hips in time with his tongue as he suckles and licks and delves into you with a thick finger, making you jolt from the sudden intrusion.

"You're tight." He growls approvingly. "Can already feel you clenching around me."

"M-more." You breathe, plead. "One more."

A fire is lit behind his eyes and he nips at the inside of your thigh. "Fuck, you're perfect."

He spits on your already sopping entrance and gives you what you want, two fingers that brush up against that deep spot inside you that was always hard for you to reach on your own.

"Oh my god." You fuck yourself back on his digits, showing him what you like and how deep to go, something he picks up and copies without hesitation. The thought alone that he was a good study shot electricity down your spine, getting you to the edge of a precipice.

"Ohhhh—!" You bite bit down on the meat of your hand as it hits you like a freight train. "Mmph!"

He laps at the slippery wetness that coats his fingers, uncaring of what covers his face. If anything he seems to revel in it as he comes up to kiss you, giving you a taste as you try to catch your breath.

"You can stay," He murmurs. "'M'not letting you drive home this late. All the weirdos are out for the weekend."

It's a bad idea, you know it's a bad idea. Questions gather in the back of your throat but they die down when they see his hopeful expression.

Yeah, it's a bad idea. But then again, you made out pretty good with this one. What was one more?

[lovrsin]

✧ ⁺˳ She might not look like she gets bitches.

꒰ streamer!ellie headcannons ꒱ a/n: I know this is a little short but wanted to write something silly!

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose bad posture is only made worse by the massive gaming headset permanently denting her hair. By the end of each stream, there’s a wild, flattened patch on her head. Chat’s constantly telling her to take a break, but she just grins, shaking her head with a stubborn “This is the look, trust.” ignoring the fact that her neck is basically molded to fit the headset

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose mic is almost as old as her setup, hanging off a stand with a few screws loose. It crackles with static if she yells too loudly, but she refuses to upgrade.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose webcam glitches, freezing her mid-sentence in the least flattering positions, like mid-eye roll or tongue out. She’ll smack the side of her screen, muttering. “Oh, fucking come on!” 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose desk is a mess of clutter: tangled cords, stray stickers, and half-finished doodles scattered across the surface. Chat is obsessed with trying to guess what all the random junk is, especially when something odd slips into frame—like an old action figure with a missing arm or an unopened can of Spam.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who leans back in her chair, stretching out her arms with a carefree sigh, her hair falling messily over her face. When suddenly, the camera catches a glimpse of her strap-on, casually hanging out in the corner of the screen. 

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!!"

"DAWG NO WAY!?"

"NO WAY BRO GETS ANY TYPE OF PLAY"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose chat’s favorite pastime is mocking her everytime she gets cocky. She’ll brag like, “Watch this fucking clutch.” only to immediately fumble, staring straight into her webcam, deadpaned. The chat spamming with messages like: 

"Just uninstall bro.."

"How tf is she this bad?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose quick to pick up on any kid’s attitude in the game. The second she hears a high-pitched “You’re trash!” she instantly counters, “YOUR DADS STROKE GAME IS TRASH!” She’ll sit there grinning, hyping herself up as the kids try to come back with more insults. Chat’s losing it, spamming, "BRO HE'S 12?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever in the heat of a game, her brows furrow, her jaw sets, and the chat braces for impact. When she misses a shot, her frustrated yell reverberates, echoing through thin walls that neighbors are definitely complaining about. “I’m never playing this shit again!” Spolier: She always plays it again.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever she’s roped into playing with Abby, her chat lights up with anticipation. Abby always manages to take her down, which only amps up her muttered curses and exaggerated sighs. “I WAS FUCKING LAGGING” she yells, while her chat’s ablaze with "IM CRYINGGGFF!" and "ELLIES ACTUAL FUCKING CHEEKS BRO!" Abby barely has to try; one word and Ellie’s thrown off, dropping all her ammo in the wrong place.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you show up in her game lobby, she clears her throat, trying to play it smooth. She lowers her voice a full octave, attempting some kind of “cool” introduction. But the chat? They’re absolutely losing it.

"DID ELLIE JUST TURN INTO A FUCKING MAN?!"

"I CANNOTOTTTT"

"PLEASE ELLIE UR EMBARRASING."

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie always tries to play it smooth by making some bold promise, like, “Stick with me, and we’ll clutch this.” But then she immediately gets taken out. Chat explodes, throwing in every possible roast, like, "BRO ELLIE PACK IT THE FUCK UP!" and "THE HOES ARE RUNNING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who, by the end of the stream, knows you’re still there in chat. So a quick, stumbling sentence slips out, “Uh, if you...you know, ever wanna game or whatever, just hit me up.”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you send over your Instagram, she freezes, her in-game character getting KO’d. But she’s too hyped to care. She jumps out of her chair, nearly flipping it backward, screaming into her mic, “BRO, BRO, BRO, NO WAY—LETS GOOOO!!” She starts pacing, muttering, “CHAT, ARE WE SEEING THIS!?.”

The Chat’s blowing up like: 

"WWWWWW!!!!!"

"OKAY ELLIEEEE WE SEE YOUUU!!!!"

"THERE'S ABSOLUETLY NO WAY"

"BRO?!?!?!!"

and she’s just laughing, all out of breath. 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s bouncing in her seat, half-yelling at her monitor, “FUCKK ” She’s pointing at your handle in her chat, looking dazed, like she’s still trying to process it. Her hands are shaking, and she’s practically yelling over her poor-quality mic, “I FUCKING DID THAT CHAT!”  Chat’s spamming, "PLEASEE SHE WAS DOING CHAIRTY WORK ELLIE!" and "NAHHH THATS DEFINITELY AI"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s too hyped to even hear the first few bangs on her door. But then, it’s like her soul leaves her body. “dude, what was that?” She leans closer to the mic, whispering like her neighbors can’t still hear her, “um… chat…?” Chat’s flooding with "NUH UHHH" and "AWWW SHITTT"and she’s just grinning, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, hold on, lemme go check”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie where a moment later, she comes back into frame holding a piece of paper up to the webcam: an eviction notice. She stares at the camera, lips pressed into a thin line as chat explodes, crying.

"NO WAYYYYY!!!!?!??!?!"

"SENDING YOU JOB APPLICATIONS"

"IM FUCKING CRYINGFFFF!!"

"UR GONNA HAVE TO SELL THAT STRAP"

[lovrsin]

Unholy confessions

Charlie Mayhew x fem reader

The desire you have for Father Charlie Mayhew leads you to confession but you didn’t check who was inside listening to every word. Charlie request sent in by @eddieslut69

Warnings! Female masturbation, religion kink, very mild degrading? Praise, fingering, oral fem recieving, munch Charlie, squirting, punishment through orgasm.

Thank you to @cxrrodedcoffin and @starkeysprincess for the dividers!

This obsession was getting out of hand. Having a crush on a guy was one thing but the feelings towards a Priest? To be fair, he was alarmingly hot, your age and that was a rare combo. You came to church after the murders started, needing some solace of community and when you saw him, your cunt pulsed.

Charlie Mayhew had confidence. Broad shoulders that filled his clothes and he strutted the stage with purpose. You found yourself paying close attention to him rather than scripture.

You wanted him to notice you but the experience of life forced you to remain calm. You found his personal training videos. Touched yourself underneath the blankets during nighttime thinking about him. It was getting to the point where you daydreamed about Charlie during mundane tasks.

You took yourself to confession. Your first time. Sitting next to the closed window, you looked at your fingers set on your lap. “I’ve never confessed before.” You whispered and squeezed your eyes shut. “I’m obsessed with Father Charlie.”

His name fell from your lips faster than you could stop yourself but the rest poured out of you. “I know I shouldn’t. It’s against his status and what he stands for but I can’t help it.”

You spoke in detail about the lengths you went to. Finding his social media. His videos. Playing with your pussy at the thought of his muscular body above you. It was an insatiable craving. As you fell into silence, you looked at the fringes of your dress. The soles of your boots digging into the wooden floor.

The window pushed aside and your vision went white. It was Father Charlie inside the confessional booth. His skin was flushed, pupils dilated into black and his normally perfect hair was messy. As if he ran his hands through it. Your eyes widened and you launched out of the seat. Making a beeline to the exit.

You could have died from embarrassment, thinking of ways to disappear to another country when a strong grip halted your elbow. You spun around, shoes squeaking on the floor as Charlie pulled you to him. His black shirt pressed against yours, as he leaned his head towards you. He licked his full lips slightly, lashes fluttering at your sweet perfume. The church was empty and you trembled.

“I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” You whispered and brushed a hair out of your face. You weren’t above begging but Charlie started walking to the hallway. His grip wasn’t painful but you couldn’t easily get out. The dark corner minimized the photos and crosses on the walls as he opened the door to a small bedroom.

Charlie closed the door, pressing your back against it. Your lips parted and a soft gasp escaped you as he hovered his mouth above yours. “Do you know how hard it is to see you every week and not take you right there?” His full lips skated along your jaw, leaving ghost of kisses and your back arched.

“Praying every night for forgiveness. For wanting to fuck you. Jerking my own dick at the thought of your pussy.” Charlie rumbled the words against your ear. Your hands went to his neck, slowly feeling his back and waist.

He pulled back and brought your hand to his mouth. Charlie admired the fingers on your right hand as if they were a beautiful art piece. He sucked them, his tongue flicking and tasting your middle and ring digit.

You moaned softly, watching as Charlie savored the flavor of your skin. He pulled them out, spit glistening the pads of your fingers.

“Such a pretty little angel doing a sinful thing. But I can’t play this game anymore. I need to fuck you, princess.” Charlie grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss. His tongue meshed with yours and he maneuvered you onto the bed.

He kept from crushing you with his weight but his heavy form kept you pinned. You sucked his lower lip, nipping it with your teeth and pulled his shirt off. Charlie was exquisite, his muscles firm and soft under your fingers. You frowned slightly at the markings on his back but decided not to voice it.

“You’re so beautiful,” You told him and he smiled briefly.

Charlie’s large hands cupped your chest, massaging them and he reached to lift the bottom of your dress.

“Now I get to admire what you touched thinking about me.” He breathed at the sight of your mostly bare body. Dark gaze laser sharp on the pair of panties that he pulled off.

Charlie cupped your hips, tracing down your stomach and circled your clit. You mewled as he expertly toyed with your center, he watched you with half closed lids. “Yeah? Is that what you needed, Angel?”

His lips found your neck, tongue sweeping your pulse as he plunged two big fingers in you. Charlie pulled your other leg over his shoulder as he pumped your pussy, licking and kissing your throat. Your nipples were so hard it hurt as you panted and moaned.

“But you have to be punished for your sin, I’m afraid.” He said in a stern voice and your eyes snapped open.

“What-“ He slapped your pussy, silencing you and he hooked the back of your knees, flipping you on your stomach. Charlie smacked your ass, manhandling your hips and situating you firmly on your knees.

“Touching yourself and not confessing sooner. The eyes of God are everywhere. So now, you must suffer as I did.” He said solemnly and you heard his buckle. “You don’t get to feel my cock yet. Not until you’re remorseful.”

Your fingers dug into the blankets and Charlie brought his mouth to your pussy. He lewdly kitten licked your clit, separating your ass to get better access as he shoved his tongue in your hole. You let out pathetic sounds as he devoured you, not letting you move away from him.

“Stop fucking trying to move away,” Charlie growled against your cunt and you felt an orgasm overwhelm you. You cried out, a series of groans and grinding back against his face. But he kept going, lapping at the cum like a thirsty animal.

“Charlie-Charlie-too much-“ You managed but he shook his head. Sharp jaw nudging your pussy.

“You don’t get to control how i fuck you, you little slut.” Charlie sucked your clit, soothing with his tongue and you were wailing. But he wouldn’t let you go, bruising your skin as he obsessively fucked your pussy with his mouth.

You felt the bed shift and you heard him tugging his cock.

“Please, let me fuck you, please fuck me with your dick, I need it.” You hoarsely begged but he kept eating you out.

It was painful but addictively so and Charlie added his fingers back. You selfishly humped his face, the coiling in your stomach unwinding as you came again. But this time it was more intense, blinding and you screamed into the back of your hand.

You squirted cum, spraying his whole mouth and neck. You were begging him to slow down, tears streaming down your cheeks and finally Charlie kissed around your cunt. Working his way up your bare back and he caught you.

You felt his dick against your pussy, heavy and dripping. You sank into his arms and he grunted.

“Making it hard for me to carry out your punishment. But I meant it.” He let you go. You softly landed on the bed and turned around.

Charlie began dressing again, smoothing his clothes as if he hadn’t made you fucking squirt on his face.

He smeared the glistening cum around, inhaling deeply.

“Come back tomorrow to confess. And your punishment will end. It gives you a a chance to…plead your case.”

@oceanblvd111 @bloodibambiidoll @cxrrodedcoffin @stillwjk-channie-lixie @starkeysbabygirl @eddieslut69 @decodedlvr @userchai @fear-is-truth @titsout4nicholas

[lovrsin]

the stache…or what i like to call slutstache 🫦

drew starkey for queer press

[lovrsin]

｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ˚୨୧⋆｡

Cooper Abbott x Fem!Reader

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: You weren’t too keen on your new stepfather to start, but as he and your mother grew further apart, you found yourself pulled to him more and more, and when things reach a head, you become closer than ever before.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: if you have a good relationship with your mother congrats but i don’t so this one’s for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: stepdad!cooper, age gap (reader is in their mid 20’s + cooper is mid 40’s), nondescript references to parental verbal & emotional abuse, virgin!reader, fem + afab reader, reader referred to as girl, perv!cooper, slight voyeurism, f masturbation, mention of m masturbation, dacryphilia, daddy kink, breeding kink, choking, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it always), penetrative sex, pet names (sweet girl, pretty girl, sweetheart, babydoll, baby), creampie, cheating, praise, hickeys, size kink if you squint, spit kink, degradation (whore), aftercare, mentions of murder

Rating: R, 18+

——

When your mother introduced you to her fiancé Cooper Abbott two years ago, you couldn’t stand him. He was shady, dipping out of the house at all hours of the night, and full of himself. He was confident, often to a borderline cocky level, and you wanted nothing to do with your new step father even after him and your mom tied the knot. His kids were sweet enough, but they were only over on the weekends and with their mother the rest of the week, not leaving much time to bond with your new step-siblings.

You avoided him as often as you could, picking up extra shifts to get yourself out of the house more often, dodging whatever awkward attempt at bonding he had in mind for you that particular day. It’s not that you thought he would make a bad father, he was great to his existing kids, but you didn’t feel like you needed a grown man to father you, having already been an adult yourself for a short while.

Cooper took to you right away, the urge that rose in his chest the first time he saw you frightening him. It wasn’t anything like the urge he felt when he was scoping out one of his kills, no, it was the polar opposite. He had this carnal desire to protect you, to keep you safe from all outside forces threatening your happiness. He knew you didn’t feel whole, could sense that there was something missing deep inside of you, that same something he was missing, a hole in his chest left there by the tumultuous relationship he shared with his mother. He wondered if he had been wrong about the woman he chose to marry, and as time would tell, he was correct.

As the months went on you slowly found yourself warming up to him more and more, almost startling yourself out of your chair one night when you realized you’d been absentmindedly smiling as he went on about the latest fire call his station had been on during family dinner.

That night, two weeks ago, when his foot brushed yours under the dining room table and instead of pulling away, you played footsie with him for the remainder of the meal, lingered in your mind, the faint knowing smile on his face between bites making you wonder if there was something more to it. You began to test the waters, leaving a pair of your panties in the washing machine so they’d end up in his next load of laundry to see if he’d return them or not, leaving your bedroom door cracked when you changed, “accidentally” leaving your vibrator on your bed when you knew he’d be coming down the hall to see it in passing.

He fell for every single one of your traps, lingering in the hallway to peer through the crack in your door, blood rushing to his dick at the sight of your bare breasts when you lifted your shirt over your head, the panties you’d left in the washer mysteriously never popping back up in your underwear drawer, your vibrator magically shifting positions every time you left it out.

It was mostly innocent at first, just a silly, taboo flirtation that gave the two of your lonely souls an entertaining game to play, but with your mom out of town for work, Cooper was ready to see if your little antics were really just a game.

He loved your mother, at least, he thought he did. After their wedding he began to see the sides of her that had tormented you most of your adolescence. Her controlling and narcissistic nature that she hid so well around strangers began to rear its ugly head the longer he was around, and he was just about at his limit. He’d never let your mother onto even an inkling of his dissatisfaction, an expert at keeping secrets and manipulating her into believing he was the happiest man alive, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He became acutely aware of the way she treated you, and it stirred a rage inside of him that could only be quelled by his latest kill. He saw parts of himself in you, the part of himself that was once a scared young boy, facing all of the trauma his own mother inflicted upon him. He wanted nothing more than to protect you from her, to put his skills to use and butcher her the way he did the rest of his victims, but there were too many risk factors to consider. She was too close to him, too connected legally and socially, it would be traced back to him immediately, and he couldn’t risk going to prison and leaving you all alone in that trauma-ridden house.

-

“I’m going to the grocery store, I’ll be back in an hour.” Cooper called up from the bottom of the stairs, pausing for your acknowledgment. You shouted a short “Okay!” from your bedroom and waited until you heard the slam of the front door behind him.

You wanted nothing more than to feel his hands all over you, but you knew that couldn’t happen. Cooper was respectable, a family man by all accounts, you were sure he’d never betray your mother like that. But you wished he would every time he flexed his muscular arms while carrying groceries in from the car, every time the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and every time his hand brushed against your lower back when he walked past you.

You were hungry, needy in a way you were almost ashamed of, and you knew Cooper wasn’t satisfied either. You’d heard him panting and groaning by himself through your bedroom wall when he thought he was alone in the house one too many times for him to be getting any from your mother. Their bedroom being right next to yours left very little to the imagination and you hadn’t heard the bed creak in over a year.

Honestly, after all the shit she’d put you through, you weren’t sure if you could say you’d never betray her either. Your apathy toward her had grown stronger with every nasty word she’d sent your way and as you got older, you stopped letting yourself feel bad for holding it against her. No mother should speak to their child the way she spoke to you, and despite your compulsion to keep the peace as long as you lived under her roof, you didn’t care to protect her anymore.

Despite all of your desires, you resigned to lulling your urges every quiet moment you had alone with yourself, your trusty vibe in hand as you imagined Cooper on top of you, touching you in all of the right ways. Today was no different, your cunt already dripping from the image of Cooper walking down the hallway, toned torso dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist after his morning shower. When he said he’d be leaving, your stomach flipped at the opportunity to take care of your little problem, opening the drawer of your nightstand the moment you heard the door shut.

You quickly rid yourself of your clothing, shirt and shorts in a messy pile on your bedroom floor as you pushed your underwear down your legs, the fabric catching on your bedpost as you attempted to fling them to the floor. You propped yourself against your pillows, reaching underneath them to pull out the shirt you’d stolen out of Cooper’s dirty laundry and held it to your face, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his cologne and natural musk as the soft fabric brushed against your nose.

You didn’t have time to savor the act this time, with only an hour to work with, each of your actions needed to have direct intention behind them. You pulled the shirt over your frame, the loose fabric grazing over your sensitive nipples, another surge of arousal pooling between your thighs. You pulled the toy out of your drawer, the sleek aluminum weighty in your hand as you guided it to your center, using the rounded edge of the silicon head to spread your arousal up to your clit before turning the suction onto its lowest setting.

The soft hum of the small toy filled the room, echoed by your uninhibited whimpers as you held the suction against your clit, each targeted pulse of air drawing a breathy moan from your heaving chest. You dropped your head to rest on your shoulder, taking in his scent from the shirt again as you tried your best to remember the way his hand felt on your lower back, to imagine how that feeling could translate to other parts of your body, firm pressure against your hips, your ribs, your breasts, your throat.

Your thighs began to tremble as your release drew impossibly close, your finger pressing the button on the toy to up the intensity and send you into a toe-curling orgasm. You cried out his name again and again, tears pricking in the corner of your eye as your hips bucked, dropping the toy from your sensitive cunt as the feeling of overstimulation started the set in.

“Fuck.”

The exasperated sigh and sound of rustled plastic hitting the floor quickly ripped you from your post-orgasm haze, eyes shooting open as you scrambled to pull your comforter over your body.

Cooper was pissed, but not for the reasons you thought. He was mad at himself for not being the one to make you come, for not reading into your signs enough to be the man you needed him to be and make the first move. He needed to be in control, and watching you do it all yourself, with only the thought of him there to help, made him sick to his stomach.

“I-I’m sorry, I thought you’d be out longer.” You tried your best to justify your actions but you knew it was useless, this looked bad, was bad, no matter what way you tried to spin it.

“I went to the corner store instead.” He cleared his throat and picked up the small plastic bag and bundle of fresh flowers off the floor, turning to walk out of the room. His footsteps down the hall reverberated so loud you wondered how you could’ve been so lost to not hear him walking toward your room earlier. You laid your head in your hands to sulk for a moment before pulling yourself together, figuring it better to be an adult about the situation than pouting like a child.

You walked to the bathroom down the hall, messy toy in hand and a look of shame on your face. There was no point in shutting the door, Cooper had already seen your vibrator doing exactly what it was made for, a glimpse of you washing it in the sink wouldn’t kill him. The water ran hot and you got to work, thoroughly rinsing the soap suds off when you felt hands on your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt, or rather, Cooper’s shirt.

You looked into the mirror, his brown eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “I’ve been looking for this.” He started to lift the fabric, exposing your stomach before quickly dropping it and taking a step back. Your face dropped in disappointment, wishing he’d have taken what was his.

Cooper wasn’t exactly a particularly moral person, but nevertheless he didn’t feel great about your age gap or the power imbalance involved with being your stepfather. He couldn’t let himself do anything without your express permission, not when there was so much risk involved.

“You can touch me, if you want to.” You spoke softly, avoiding eye contact while turning the tap off and reaching for a clean towel to set your vibrator on to dry. Cooper didn’t hesitate, his hands returning to their place on your hips before slipping under his shirt, rubbing over the curve of your waist and taking in how soft your delicate skin felt against his palms. Your eyes fluttered shut, reveling in the feeling of his large hands on you like you’d fantasized about countless times before.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He gave a soft squeeze to your sides, waiting for your eyes to meet his in the mirror, a warm smile greeting you when you finally did.

“What are you thinking about?” He questioned, continuing to run his fingers up and down your waist. Your breath hitched just slightly, trying to put your months of built up fantasies into words and failing miserably.

“You, I want you.” You breathed out, too shy to say the things you really wanted to. He saw the way you shifted on your heels, trying to close the gap between his chest and your back. He looked so beautifully intimidating like this, tall stature looming over yours like an animal stalking its prey, the lion and the lamb. He took the hem of the shirt in his grip and slowly raised it over your head, never breaking eye contact.

The sight of your bare breasts made him groan almost animalistically, ready to devour you. It’d been so long since he’d been with a woman so supple, your body an apple ripe for the picking.

“Where, sweetheart?” His lips met your temple, placing a chaste kiss before making his way down your neck, lips ghosting over your sensitive skin, eyes still locked with yours all the while. He sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. You watched him, entranced by how expertly he mapped your pulsepoint, your hand moving to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly and whimpering when his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear. You were so lost in him you weren't sure what way was up or down, let alone what he had just asked you.

“You make the sweetest sounds babydoll, can you use that pretty voice to tell me where you want me to fuck you? I’d gladly bend you over this countertop, or carry you to my bed, I just want your first time to be comfortable.” The tail end of his statement had your eyes widening like a deer in headlights, feeling like your deepest secret had just been exposed to the world.

“H-how did you know?” Your voice was shaky, unsure of yourself as you wondered if your virgin status was really that painfully obvious to others.

“I heard you the other night, on the phone with your friend.” He was so nonchalant, as if it was the most normal conversation in the world to be having with your stepfather. Your body relaxed slightly, releasing tension you didn’t even know you were holding.

“My bed please, I don’t want to think about my mother while we do this.” You held your fingers in your opposite hand, nervously fidgeting with your digits as you dropped your head, staring at the sink. You knew you didn’t have an obligation to feel bad for her, but guilt panned in your chest nonetheless. Cooper’s hand found your chin, lifting your gaze back to his. You were too good for her, too good for him if he was being honest with himself, but you made him want to be a better person for your sake, and he wanted nothing more than to help you lose that unnecessary guilt he knew you were carrying.

“Trust me sweetheart, I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all about her, want her to be the furthest thing from either of our minds.” His voice soothed you the way your favorite songs do, and a heat rose over your cheeks thinking about all the ways he could do that.

You almost had the wind knocked out of you when he took you by the waist and perfectly executed an over the shoulder carry, playfully slapping your ass before making his way down the hall to your bedroom. You let a moan slip, and you would’ve been embarrassed if it hadn’t been for the way his shoulder tensed underneath your stomach in response.

“You like when I manhandle you?” Cooper teased, carefully tossing you down onto your plush bedding. You nodded, rubbing your thighs together as his gaze drifted over your body, sizing up his prey. You relaxed against your pillows, the stuffed animals either side of your head framing your innocence like a halo. Cooper began to undress, watching the way your features became more reactive with every article of clothing he removed, until he was in nothing but his boxers. You gulped, seeing the outline of his member through the thin fabric and growing nervous, trying to imagine how he would fit inside you.

When he finally slid his underwear off, your lips parted in a soft gasp, mesmerized by the blush pink hue of his leaking tip, your eyes following the length of the prominent vein on the right side of his shaft. He was thick, intimidatingly so, and your mouth started to water thinking of how small your hand would look wrapped around it. Before you knew it you were on your hands and knees, crawling to the end of the bed and looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Can I try?” You asked, voice too innocent for Cooper to take.

“Only if you really want to, honey.” He smiled down at you, caressing your cheek. You nodded eagerly, returning the smile as you repositioned yourself, bent forward to lean on your elbows and knees, his cock right at your eye line. You brought your hand to his length, just holding the weight of it in your hand for a moment, looking it over to properly memorize it. Cooper found it easy to be patient with you despite the way his body was begging for you to do more, finding your curious nature incredibly endearing. Opening your mouth hesitantly, you began by kitten licking the tip, the salty taste of his precum lingering on your tongue. You didn’t know what you expected, but whatever it was, this was better. You swirled your tongue around his head, exploring the contours of the taut skin before taking him into your mouth, feeling the way he twitched ever so slightly in response to the warm heat. Cooper groaned, his hand making its way to the back of your head, not pushing but guiding your shallowly bobbing head.

You worked your way further down his length, slowly feeling your throat adjust to the intrusion with every gag it gave, your mouth dripping with saliva. Cooper nearly lost it when you experimentally hollowed your cheeks, the added pressure of your suction drawing your name from his lips. He began to shallowly thrust, making you gag even harder as you took in two thirds of his shaft, tears welling in your eyes. You did your best to adjust, but it was no use, your throat unable to adjust to the depth he held you at. Your tears broke your waterline, leaving grey mascara streaks in their wake and you knew you must look a mess. Your shallow breaths were growing harder to take, but you wanted to keep going, you needed to make him come.

Your throat spasming around him felt incredible, and it took everything in Cooper to stop himself from forcing you to take him the rest of the way until your nose hit his stomach. He knew he’d get you there eventually, but that wasn’t the goal today. The image of your beautiful face, all smeared with messy makeup and covered in spit was something he never wanted to forget, taking a mental image as an effigy of your transformation into his perfect little slut. He needed to taste you, to know how sweet an angel like you must be. He gripped your hair, gently easing his cock from your throat, a thick string of saliva stretching across the empty divide between his tip and your lips. You panted, sitting back on your heels and catching your breath as you looked up at him, a small seed of worry planting itself in your mind. Cooper could see it, that light in your eyes dimming ever so slightly.

“What’s the matter baby?” He was genuinely concerned, worried that he’d gone too hard on you.

“It’s nothing, I’m just, I-I don’t know how it’s gonna fit.” You stumbled over your words, embarrassed by your confession. Of course you knew scientifically how it would, vaginas can stretch enough to push a baby out, of course it could stretch to fit a penis. But after seeing one in person, having him in your mouth and not being able to take it all in, and thinking back to how you could barely fit two of your own fingers inside yourself, the rational part of your brain had long since resigned itself from this topic.

“I promise it will, I know just how to get you ready so it only hurts a little, okay?” He leaned down, inches from your face, waiting for your nod of acknowledgement before pulling you into a kiss, his tongue pinning yours down in a subtle show of dominance before pulling away, just admiring you for a moment.

“You are so beautiful.” He sighed, cupping your face in his hands, calloused thumbs wiping away your tear stains. Your cheeks grew hot again, never knowing how to take a compliment but appreciating his praise beyond words, especially with how messy you’d gotten.

“Lay back for me, sweet girl.” He kissed you on the top of your head, gently nudging your shoulder and you followed his instruction, returning to your previous position against your pillows. He took your ankles in hip grip, spreading your legs to situate himself on his stomach between them, his face inches from your now impossibly wet cunt. He looked up at you, locking eyes before flattening his tongue against your hole and licking a flat strike through your folds up to your swollen clit, eliciting a gentle whimper from your trembling lips.

“Never had a girl as sweet as you before.” Cooper praised, and he wasn’t exaggerating. He couldn’t get enough of the savory sweet mix of your arousal, so intoxicating he thought he might get drunk off of it. The compliment made you want to hide, your thighs attempting to close out of instinct. His strong hands ruined their plight, forcing them to stay spread and using his thick forearms to anchor you to the bed. He dove back in, practically muzzling himself with your cunt, lapping hungrily at your weeping entrance. Your hands clutched desperately at your floral sheets, looking for anything to cling to, too scared to hurt him with your iron grip.

His motions moved upward, plush lips framing your clit before swiping quickly over the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue. You cried out, chest rising off of the bed momentarily as your body fought to process all of the new sensations it was experiencing. Cooper hummed against you, his eyes gazing over your mound to watch the way you reacted to the vibrations the action sent through you. You were a moaning mess, all whiney pleases and breathy cries, wriggling against him. When he pulled away moments later, you groaned in frustration.

“Patience, babydoll, I’m going to start stretching this little pussy out to get her prepared for me.” He slapped your inner thigh, returning back to your clit as his fingers traced the tight muscles around your entrance. When you were properly worked up again, lost in the feeling of his tongue on your clit, he inserted his middle finger, your wetness allowing it to glide in with ease. He curled it inside of you, rubbing along the contours of your warm, velvety walls. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking into his palm to encourage him to add another. He did so, his pointer joining with slight resistance, the size of his fingers providing more stimulation than your own ever could. He pumped them in and out in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue, feeling your tightness ease up around him the longer he repeated his movements. You could feel a pressure building in the pit of your stomach, one slightly different than what you were used to.

“More, please.” You moaned, bucking your hips once more, causing Cooper to smile against you. He did as you asked, his index finger joining the other two inch by inch, your muscles stretching slowly until he was up to his knuckles inside of you. He held the digits still for a moment, waiting to be sure you were ready before pulling out and thrusting them back in, curling them to hit the spongy patch that his fingers could only just reach. You felt like you were hurtling toward the edge of a cliff, moments away from losing all control when he began sucking on your clit, the added pressure causing your vision to go blurry.

“Daddy!” You cried out, back arching and thighs clamping around his head and fingers clutched so tightly you thought your sheets might rip in your grasp. Cooper slowed his actions, working you through every wave of your orgasm until you relaxed into the mattress, releasing him from between your thighs. When your mind finally cleared you realized what you had done, frantically sitting up to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from, I just got so overwhelmed, I-I wasn’t thinking.” You rambled on, overexplaining in hopes that he wouldn’t be disgusted with you.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s more than okay. You want me to be your daddy? Gonna let Daddy take care of you?” His full lips and stubble both glistened with your slick, and you almost wished you could take a photo to capture the look in his eyes. He pushed himself up by his forearms, crawling up to hover over you and tilting his head as if waiting for a response, until you realized what he wanted.

“Yes, Daddy.” You looked up at him, big doe eyes still glazed over from your afterglow, and something shifted in Cooper. The urge was back, something primal in him that needed to be as close as possible, to not only be inside you, but to own you. He hung his head, fighting back against it.

“I’ll be right back, I need to get a condom.” He sighed, prioritizing your comfort over his desires, or so he thought.

“Cooper, wait, do we have to use one?” You grabbed his arm to stop him from getting out of bed, and his eyes lit up at your words.

“You don’t want to?” He questioned, a bit caught off guard.

“I want to feel all of you, I don’t care if I might get pregnant.” Your eyes darkened and he swore he saw something more behind your eyes, like you weren't letting him in on a dark secret, but he thought better than to push it.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He let out a slight laugh, shaking his head before grabbing one of your pillows and asking you to lift your hips, placing it under your ass. The added cushion had you more relaxed, your nerves about his size starting to dissipate. He hooked his hands behind your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest to give him a full view of your pussy, ready and waiting for him. He lined up his hips with yours, his cock laying against the apex of your thigh.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?” His voice was soft, strained slightly with pent up desire but holding nothing but love otherwise. You nodded, an eager “Yes.” pulled from your now-sore throat. He looked into your eyes, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it through your folds to properly coat it in your slick, taking a few seconds to slap the head against your clit just to hear a couple more of those pretty little whimpers he loved so much before having to see you in pain. He lined up his tip with your entrance, pressing into you at an almost agonizingly slow pace, pausing when he saw you grimace in pain.

“I know sweetheart, but it’s just one big stretch then it’ll feel good, I know you can do it.” He soothed, his hand finding yours to intertwine your fingers. You nodded, your free hand moving to rest on the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss. He continued to push forward inch by inch, swallowing your winces and whines until he was finally seated fully inside of you, stalling his hips to allow your tight walls to adjust around him. He pulled away from the kiss when your sighs of pain subsided, squeezing your hand.

“Move, please.” You gave him the go ahead, and he wasted no time, pulling out carefully before thrusting slowly back in, your mouth dropping in a gasp at the new sensation, a burn so good you didn’t know whether to moan or cry. The more he repeated the action, the louder you became, all semblance of pain turning into a pleasure you’d never felt before, feeling like he was made to fill the emptiness inside of you.

“God, you’re so tight babydoll, taking me so well.” His praise had you on cloud 9, but his gentle pace was only doing so much and it was starting to feel like you had an itch you couldn’t scratch.

“Harder.” You moaned, voice tinged with frustration by the teetering level of stimulation.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He retorted, slightly taken aback by your demanding tone.

“Please fuck me harder Daddy, I need it.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, still glistening with tears from earlier and he melted, content to answer your prayers. He dropped your hand, bringing his grip to your neck to apply firm pressure to the sides of your neck, careful not to press against your windpipe as he slammed his hips against yours, the slapping of skin and both of your moans filling the room.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” That cocky confidence that you had once hated was starting to come out, but this time, it made you clamp down around him. You nodded as best you could, starting to lose your focus as your mind went blank, your orgasm building quickly. Cooper saw the way your eyes glazed over and groaned, knowing he finally had you just the way he wanted you.

“Open.” His hand gripped your chin, fingers pressing into your cheeks to force your mouth into an ‘O’ shape, your tongue instinctually lulling out of your mouth. Before you could blink his spit had landed on your tongue, slipping to the back of your mouth until you swallowed it with a needy moan. You kept your mouth open and Cooper repeated the action, watching as a drop of it dribbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Only your first time and you're already such a whore.” He laughed, his hand returning to your throat. His other made its way into the tight space between your bodies, rubbing firm circles over your sensitive bundle and nerves, your hips rocking to meet his thrusts.

“Only for you.” You were so close, and you knew he was too, the way his moans were becoming more desperate, his brows furrowed underneath the strands of hair that had fallen in his face, and the feeling of his cock twitching with every thrust.

“You’re mine, gonna keep you forever, sweet girl.” His words made your head spin, and as he hit the soft spot inside of you one final time, you were gone, hearing gone fuzzy and stars erupting behind your eyes, all coherent thoughts gone from your mind, too overwhelmed with euphoria. Cooper didn’t slow down in the slightest, racing toward his own orgasm at an unstoppable pace. Your sensitivity was at an all time high, walls fluttering around him at an unwavering pace, the pressure against your clit making you want to cry as it almost crossed into pain territory, until it morphed into another growing orgasm.

“Come on babydoll, give me one more.” He encouraged, his torso pushing down against yours in almost a full mating press, more skin on skin contact than you’d had in your entire life.

“God, Cooper, please, need you to put a baby in me.” You didn’t care what he thought anymore, too close to your third orgasm of the night to give a single thought into what his potential judgments would be.

“Whatever you want, filthy girl.” He gave one final slamming thrust inside of you, his thumb swiping quickly over your clit to drag you over the edge with him, thick ropes of cum coating your contracting walls. You were both beyond spent, his dead weight on top of you oddly comforting until your legs started to cramp. He eased out of you, the empty feeling pulling an involuntary wince. He laid next to you, his arm snaking beneath your waist to pull you flush against him. He kissed the top of your head, letting you rest for a moment before helping you sit up.

“You should pee, I don’t want you getting a uti.” He helped you up onto shaky legs, holding your waist as you walked down the hallway together, each step you took feeling like a fawn learning to use its limbs for the first time.

You did as you were told, sitting in silence as he wet a washcloth in the sink next to you.

“What did you go to the store for, anyway?” You asked, genuinely curious but also trying to fill the silence.

“The flowers, I wanted to surprise you, after the comment you made the other day at the farmer’s market.” You recalled a compliment you’d paid one of the flower vendors that day, after your mother had made an offhand one to them about how wilted their stock was. You’d done that a lot throughout your life, it was just second nature at this point, trying your best to leave a trail of positivity behind your mother’s constant criticism.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to.” You looked down at your hands to hide your embarrassment.

“Look at me.” His voice was firm but caring, and when you looked up, you realized he was right beside you. He held your chin with one hand and used the other to wipe the damp washcloth over your cheeks, washing the faded mascara off of your skin.

“I wanted to. I think everything we just did is pretty decent proof that I care about you, sweetheart. Don’t ever doubt my motivations.” He wiped the last of your makeup off, cleaned himself up and let you finish before washing your hands and spending the rest of the evening together in your bed, snuggled up and discussing all the things you could do with the remaining days until your mother returned home and you had to actually deal with the complicated nature of what all of this meant for the two of you.

—

tagging some angel moots: @babygorewhore @xxbimbobunnyxx @hereforthehitsbaby

please comment or message me if you’d like to be added to my cooper abbott taglist <3

[lovrsin]

annnnd it’s all over my screen

ellie, who unexpectedly orgasms as she’s strapping you.

you thought something was off by how sloppy she was handling your hips, her fingers twitching impulsively and the thrusts of the silicone in your cunt is faltering. maybe her stamina is no longer, or maybe she’s just not into you.

but you hear her exhale shakily, her choked up breaths. people usually tried missionary first, but not ellie - she wanted to see you ride it reverse cowgirl, watch your ass from behind in doggy, and she wanted to hear you cry out speed-bump style.

but she’s on top of you now, your lower back angled comfortably on a sweaty pillow, legs hanging off the edge of the mattress.

“fuck.. fuck.. fuck—“ she whimpers silently to herself, and your glossed eyes are fluttering open. you’ll call out her name with difficulty, ellie?

that intangible pleasure in your cunt she used to hit with ease is starting to subside, but it doesn’t matter, because your core is tightening when you see her fucked-out expression. her lids shut, eyebrows arched in ecstasy and my god, williams.. it looks like you’re the one getting fucked.

the constant rocking has been stimulating her poor, swollen clit. and suddenly provoking her orgasm, her hips are twitching like crazy, whimpering exhales sloppily seeping from her lips.

“are you fucking coming?” you gasp jaggedly, feeling the silicone burrow deeply into your hole in these random and unanticipated twitches.

you’ll cup her face, and her skin is piping hot, melting into your sweaty palms. her eyes are closed, and even when they are fluttering, you can only see the pleasured whites of her eyes.

“mm—fuck-‘m sorry, i’m sorry baby-ah—..” she whimpers, too embarrassed to open her eyes fully for you to see her shameful irises, dilated pupils that are so selfish.

she’s using her remaining momentum to sporadically thrust into your soaked slit, encouraging those last ruffles of her rupturing orgasm, humming low and guttural as she does so. “felt so good—fuck, pussy feels so good, baby—“ she exhales breathlessly, her parted lips against your chest messily exhaling.

you can feel the hot air on your skin, condensation melting into the pores.

she tries to continue, for your sake, for your enjoyment. but it’s too much, oversensitivity that has her trembling like a loser; her arms are quivering as they try to hold her up. “i can’t-can’t go anymore—“ she whines, her measly thrusts forcing her clit into overdrive.

just the smallest tap has her overwhelmed. but you’re not satisfied, she knows this.

“keep going.” you demand, determined eyes maintaining a solid gaze at her own, your palms still framing her jaw. “i need to come too.”

and when she pauses, eyes glassy with the overbrimming bliss, you dip her face lower. her ear inches away from your lips, and you whisper with a callous hue. “you talked so much fucking game, so fuck me until i come. is that so much to ask?”

“i can’t-i can’t, it’s too—“ she tries to defend herself, tries to ignore the constant contracting of her hole; the rigorous pulsing of her tormented bud. but you’re quick to deflate it.

“it’s always about you, huh, ellie?” you murmur, slowly rutting your hips against the silicone. she can hear the challenge in your voice, the way you diminish her, the humiliating wetness of her slick.

and she loves it.

“stop being so selfish, and fuck me.” you order, your arms sprawling out to your sides - because you want her to put the work in, make the same mess of you as she did herself.

and she will. she’ll whine, she’ll beg, she’ll plead. it’s too much, i can’t, please baby as she fucks into you like you deserve. the veins in her hands prominent as she tries to keep herself steady, the definition in her abdomen from the clenching, and the pitiful way she’s crying out. whimpering for breath, a pleasured tear landing on your collarbone.

but she fucks you good, and you’re grateful for it.

[lovrsin]

well well well if it isn’t frat!rafe cameron

[lovrsin]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[lovrsin]

convinced that könig is the epitome of a “malewife”

he’ll get up at the crack of dawn to make you breakfast, something new every day, and give you a sloppy kiss before you’re out the door and off to work.

and while you’re out: he’ll sweep the floors, polish the countertops, even rearrange the pantry if it seems too cluttered and disorganised (by colour on the days that feel long), until he feels you’ll be satisfied.

he then lounges around, switches through television programmes or flips through a book he’s neglected since the day before. but when he grows especially restless, he settles instead for waiting by the door like some needy house-pet (which is fitting, isn’t it?)

and in the evening, if you return noticeably stressed, he’ll help you shed your coat, usher you to the sofa with a massive hand on your back, and listen attentively as you confide all your worries to him as he massages the supple flesh of your inner thigh.

and if that doesn’t work — if that stubborn crease between your brow has yet to ease — he’ll bury his head between your legs and eat you out so tenderly until you forget why you were tense in the first place.

he’ll lick eager stripes against your cunt, suckle on your clit, and lap up all the slick that drips from your hole and smears over his chin. he’ll do it all, until his jaw aches and his tongue is numb and his lips are swollen, and you’re a whimpering mess, fingers knotted in his hair and thighs trembling as they cage his head.

and when you’re done, and you’ve ridden out the last of your orgasm, he’ll swallow the cum in his mouth, wipe his lips, and smile as he asks you, “is that better, liebling?”

(he’ll ignore your whines and acknowledgements of his arousal-stained trousers, insisting that he derives pleasure from your satedness)

masterlist <3

[lovrsin]

this the dealer!ellie yall bitches r raving about btw

[lovrsin]

nothing hurts me more than seeing ellie be written as a stone cold cheating dom who is really rough and mean to her gf, and honestly just lacks personality in general?? let’s not forget that ellie is just a girl who needs her girlfriend!!

18+, mdni, strap-on sex (e! reviving), teeniest bit of angst? oral mentions (r! receiving)

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gf!ellie who sometimes just wants to be the little spoon! she’s sooo nervous about it for no reason. you’ll obviously poke fun at her for it, reassuring her that it’s not a big deal, but she’ll still never outright ask you to spoon her.

ellie had been hesitant to let you roll away from her tonight, you’d offered her the comfort of spooning you to which she kindly denied with a gentle smile and a shake of her head. figuring it wasn’t that much of a big deal, you said goodnight like normal and i turned away from one another (touching butts as usual). after laying there for a few minutes, the sound of what you can only assume is teeth chattering begins to fill the quiet of your shared bedroom. is that ellie? the thought lingers for a moment until the feeling of ellie’s little butt wriggling against your own drags you from your mind, causing you to look back over your shoulder at her curled up frame in the darkness. “you okay els?” your voice is a gentle whisper, ellie nodding in response to your question before she responds back, her voice too barely above a whisper. “i’m jus’cold” your arm is draped over her waist in seconds, your front pressing up against her back as your face nuzzles into the back of her neck. what ellie wants, ellie gets.

gf!ellie who sometimes just needs a hug. :(

patrol can get overwhelming for her sometimes, exhausting her body and mind to the point she can’t even speak coherent words as her bottom lips quivers, her fingers coming up to pinch her baggy eyes as if to close the dam threatening to overflow. “oh el’s” you coo, reaching out for her just as she crumbles into your arms.

gf!ellie who can never shut up about you. constantly telling jesse about how much of a dork you are and how you “match her dorkegy” (dork energy). poor dina has to always give her advice on how to make you feel better after she’s accidentally upset you for the 2948593923th time, like i said she is just a girl!! joel is usually the one asking ellie about yourself, always wanting to know what the two of you have been getting up to because isn’t he just so dndosjrnd???

gf!ellie who just wants to hold your hand while her tongue sends you to heaven and back. every time you moan her name or just make a noise she likes, squeeze. ellie lovessss squeezes. your hand? she squeezes i. love. you. whenever she can’t say it. your thighs? she can’t keep her hands off. your cheeks? you’re too cute that’s not her fault??

gf!ellie who sometimes just wants you to fill her up with your dick strap.

ploughing into her from behind, ellie propped up on her elbows with her head held low, her pretty whimpers and groans egging you on. “takin’ me s’good el’s, how’s it feel hmm?” you can’t help but poke fun, enjoying the role swap a little too much. “feels s- fuck” poor girl can’t even speak, her words falling apart in the back of her throat. how did you let her do this to you so much? you’ve only just started and she’s just about ready to have a warm bath and watch one of the many movies from her very proud collection.

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[lovrsin]

hi we might not own our own bodily autonomy within the next week so vote !!

[lovrsin]

candy crush. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you’re too sweet, and ellie hates it. 

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

WARNINGS: recordshopmanager!ellie, crumblcookiebaker!oc, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a cunt, ocs too sweet, FLUFF?? FROM ME??? HUHHH, crushing, slight suggestive thoughts

A/N: idk where this came from lol

Ellie’s reorganizing the vinyl selection when a delicate hand lands on her shoulder. “I know your miserable ass doesn’t enjoy company,” Dina hisses in her ear, purposefully hushed, “But you got company.” 

Ellie’s eyebrow quirks with confusion, leaving the earplug that blasts Head like a Hole to dangle over her shoulder. Her eyes glaze over the semi-filled shop, narrowing in on every face until she locks eyes with you from behind the guitar displays. The eye contact only lasts about 1.5 seconds before Dina smacks her leg. 

“Don’t look. You’re gonna make it weird.” Dina quietly snaps from beside her, occupying her hands with some misplaced records. 

“You know her?” 

“I see her around sometimes. I think she works nearby,” Ellie catches her smirking from the corner of her eye, “… I think she likes you.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I’m dead serious. She’s been staring for the past 10.” 

“At who.” 

“At you, dipshit.” 

Ellie can’t help herself. She takes one experimental glance in your direction; discovers you typing away at your device with a black mask pulled down under your chin, bottom lip trapped between your teeth with worry. Your apron and tiny name tag indicates you probably work somewhere close by, but she can’t pinpoint where. You’re too far and her vision is failing.

“Get her numbe—“

Ellie’s head whips to face Dina, “If you don’t shut up, you’re fired.” 

“Abuse of power,” She snarks in return, “C’mon! She seems so—“

“D-Do you guys have any acoustics for sale?” 

You’re a ninja, for sure. Both girls' heads snap around to face you — who stands a bit too close for Ellie’s liking — phone desperately clutched to your chest and eyes wide as a doe. Mainly locked with Ellie’s before they drop to your name tag.

Crumbl. 2 shops down. 

Fuck. 

“Why, yes!” Dina says excitedly when Ellie doesn’t reply, “Most of ours have been used, but they’re still in great condition. Are you interested in renting or purchasing?” 

“Purchasing… I think.” 

“No problem. I can show you some that we have on display, and if you don’t like those, we have some stocked in the back!” 

Ellie’s forehead creases. Dina has never been this active in making a sale, let alone interacting with any customers. Ellie is always the one who’s forced to pick up her and Riley’s slack in the shop. She catches the light traces of disappointment that overtakes your expression at Dina’s interjection, but eventually, you’re led over to the guitar displays.

Ellie sighs in relief. 

That brief exchange gave Ellie everything she needed to know. She doesn’t find gratification in denying proposals at work, but after months of being hit on by a multitude of customers — the men particularly piss her off— she’ll be as stern as she needs to be to get the point of denial across. Sure, it makes her look like a cunt to the general public, but she’ll take that over being chased after on the clock. No questions asked. 

Ellie assumes that you’ve found what you needed because on your way out, persistent stares are thrown in her direction up until your departure. She dodges them with mastery. 

She would hate to have to embarrass a strip neighbor. 

Three days later, you stumble upon the record shop once more. Dina isn’t here to save Ellie this time, and Riley’s passing time in the break room. Your uniform is lightly dusted with white, presumably flour, and your mask is down, phone clutched to your chest like it holds all your secrets.

Your mouth drops open around a small smile when you approach the service counter, but Ellie interrupts before you can greet her. 

“What can I help you with?” 

She assumed her annoyance would be guarded by professionalism, but your smile drops at its corners at her tone. A light flinch that Ellie prays is enough to deter you from spending your breaks here. 

It doesn’t. Your eyes still shine like the star that you aren’t. 

“I, um… I actually wanted to talk to you. If that’s okay—“

“Is it regarding the purchase you made a few days ago?” 

Dina slid Ellie a notice on the down payment you made for your used dreadnought since you weren’t able to pay in full. The scolding she received about “taking care of you” whenever you returned made her teeth grind together. 

“N-No. I just—“

“I’d appreciate it if we kept the conversation about that,” Ellie uses the scribbles on her notepad as a distraction, “Did you have any questions regarding the instrument? Or if you’re interested in taking part in the lessons we offer, I could redirect you to Riley. She’s in charge of—“

“I just wanted to see if you were… interested in sampling out some cookie flavors I came up with? I’m a baking and pastry student and—“

“Look,” The tip of Ellie’s tongue sharpens into her cheek, irritation evident when you two are eye-to-eye. “I’m not sure where this proposal is coming from, but frankly, I’m not interested.”

The drop in your expression doesn’t stop Ellie’s relentlessness. 

“I don’t know you, and I don’t know why you thought I’d be a good candidate for… taste-testing, but I’ll politely decline. No thanks.” 

Her declination doesn’t sound polite in the slightest; quite snippy and condescending from your perspective, and it forces your windpipe shut. Only for a second before a strangled gasp leaves your lips. You’re not sure if it’s out of shock or lack of breath, but it aches in your lungs all the same. 

Ellie’s glare sends holes through your back as you rush towards the exit, the small bell singing through the store and alarming your leave. 

All Ellie can hope is that you got the message. 

It’s a new week, and therefore, a new Crumbl cookie line-up. Dina won’t stop raving about the carrot-cake cookie which doesn’t resemble a cookie at all. It's tiered and way too soft and stacked with icing that’s sweet enough to rot teeth from the gum. 

It reminds Ellie of you, for some reason; Somehow still managing to be a nuisance without trying. 

Even more so now since Dina’s been using her 45 to walk down and see you. To talk to you. Dina has yet to cough up what about — not that Ellie cares. It’s just weird that you two suddenly have so much in common after knowing each other for all of two days maximum. Whenever Dina clocks back in, she tortures Ellie with dramatic retellings of your stories. 

It’s Thursday; a quiet day for the shop that Ellie uses to her advantage when the sun is at its peak. Searching through cheap magazines and playing Candy Crush on her phone. 

What a time for you to come barreling in. The formerly enjoyable shriek of guitar suddenly sounds like nails on a chalkboard at your appearance. No longer are you in all black. You’re in a sundress. An orange one. You look like a popsicle. 

And you bear gifts. Ellie’s mood turns even more sour when she sees two bright yellow gift bags with smiley faces on them and a tray filled with coffee stuffed in your hands. 

“Good morning!” 

You’re smiling, gleaming, and Ellie’s nose turns up. She plucks one of her earplugs out and closes her graphic novel. 

“How can I help you?” 

You set your bag down on the display case of her prized arch top, and she sighs in exasperation. Annoyance sparks when she notices one of the bags has her name on it, flowers and hearts and sparkles surrounding the tag. 

“Can you not put your belongings on the displays, please? I’d have to clean up after you since none of my employees will.” 

You’ve already moved your bags and exclaimed apologies before Ellie could finish her sentence. She’s seconds away from shoving her earplug back in to tune you out, but you’re fast. Persistent. She hates it.

“I’m really sorry about that,” You say gently, and Ellie shrugs you off, “I, um. I-I came to, uh…”

Ellie blinks rapidly, “If you’re here to apologize for last week, don’t bother. It’s not needed.” 

“Not at all! Well, I’m just… I wanted to drop by and—“

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with just… dropping by. Have you realized that?” 

Ellie’s squint is harsh and scrutinizing, and sorrow overshadows the light in your pupils. 

“Since it’s obvious that you’re not understanding me, I’ll put it like this,” She leans a bit over the counter, front fully pressed against the glass and palms resting on the stainless steel, “I’m not interested in anything you have going on. Stop using your breaks as an excuse to come see me. I don’t wanna go out with you. And I don’t want to do a taste test. Drop it already.” 

Ellie watches your lip quiver with a harshness exclusive only for people like you, tears welting in your eyes and your fingers pinching at the hem of your sundress. Insecurity is practically seeping from your pores, and your gaze drops shamefully to the floor. 

Ellie’s just about to tell you to kick rocks when the STAFF ONLY door swings open and exposes Riley. Her break ended 20 minutes ago. 

“Hey! You’re early!” 

Ellie scoffs, “No, you’re late—“

“Not you. Be quiet,” She waves her off and smiles at you, who’s smiling back at her with guised genuity. A complete 180 from the you seconds ago. Since when were you and Riley on speaking terms? Friends?

She jogs from behind the stand, “Dina told me you weren’t coming til 3!” Riley throws her arms around your shoulders, and your hands tremble where they rest on her forearms. “Are those the goods?” 

“Yeah!” Your voice sounds heavy. Like you’re guarding a breakdown, “I-I had some time so I stopped by a little early.” 

“I got some to spare til Dee gets here. Hang out with m—“

“Actually!” You intervene shakily, “I have some other drop-offs to make. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me.” 

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Watch me get my Food Network judge on?” Riley suddenly points in Ellie’s direction, “Who knows. Sourpuss might even pop a grin once she tries one.” Ellie’s cheeks run red-hot.

“Sorry, Riley. Maybe next time,” You’re already wobbling towards the exit, “But, please call and tell me what you think! Dina, too! Any feedback is appreciated!” 

“I’m sure they’re delicious, Monster!” Riley compliments playfully, “Text me when you’re home!” 

When the door shuts, Ellie sees Riley’s back stiffen at the sight of you frantically wiping your face through the glass. 

“What the fuck did you do.” 

“I didn’t do shit. She’s loitering.” 

“Lo— Oh my fucking god, you’re an embarrassmen—“

“No, she is. Taking up space for no fucking reason to come and see me. She’s loitering—“

“You’re blowing a fuse over fucking cookie samples?” Riley stares at her like she’s nuts, “And not to burst your self-centered bubble, but I told her to come. She’s been asking all the stores on the block if they’d like to taste ‘em.”

Ellie pauses, expression softening only slightly when Riley continues, 

“I told her you don’t like chocolate, so she made a peanut butter version for you.” Riley shakes Ellie's special, slightly smaller bag as a means to taunt her, and the freckled girl’s face burns red. Glows even harsher when her friend throws in, “You cunt. She’s a sweetheart. Not everyone is fucking obsessed with you.” 

Riley leaves Ellie to simmer in her discomfort, slamming the break door shut. The day seems to drag on longer than usual. 

-

-

-

Ellie’s organizing the break room when she comes across her small baggie that Riley left behind. She would’ve expected her friend to take them home after Ellie’s dramatic blow up, but there it sat on the counter, untouched and jeering. 

Tempting enough for her to rest the broom against the counter and inspect its contents. Wafts of cinnamon and peanut butter hit her through the small opening of the bag, and her heart gives a squeeze. The cookie is iced to perfection — an entire scenery on the light brown canvas. So many flowers and trees and the blue hues of the sky; almost too much detail. It looks printed on. 

You’re artistically talented and the cookie smells divine. 

One nibble wouldn’t hurt. She’s sure the damage she caused is already irreversible. 

But when she cradles the carefully swaddled cookie, a small note falls from beneath the bunched cling wrap. She knows she shouldn’t. She should really, really leave the neatly folded piece of paper where it lays. Down the cookie. Trash the bag. 

She takes the cookie and the note back to her seat at the table. The cookie isn’t what she unravels first. 

“thought I’d make you a separate batch. Riley gave me the heads up about your chocolate disdain. I’m too paranoid to ask for your number in person, so I thought I’d use bait instead. I hope it’s convincing enough. Please let me know if it’s decent. Thank you for tasting.”

Signed with your name and a smiling heart with wings. Ellie’s heart shatters, remaining shards dangling from the rim of her ribcage. She can already see her friends glaring through her chest when they visit the apartment to berate her tomorrow morning. She already knows what they’re going to demand from her, but she’s three steps ahead. 

She ate the entire cookie in two bites right where she sat. It was delicious. Almondy, not too sweet, gently spiced. Probably the best she’s ever had.

Ellie has never been to Crumbl before. 

The viral spot is always bustling — too crowded and filled with loud teenagers with a sugar rush for her taste. Plus, she’s already on the clock when they first open. But the record shop is closed on Fridays. 

She put an extra bit of care into her appearance. She doesn’t recall the last time she did her hair. Half of it is pinned up and her button-up is neatly pressed. Jitters rustle in the pit of her stomach and her forehead is a bit damp, mainly because she can see you through the goddamn window. 

In uniform, you stand at the register with the same beaming smile from last week, talking and giggling with your coworkers, and Ellie instantly feels guilty. Your day seems off to a great start, and here she is… About to ruin it. She almost turned around at the thought. 

But the small bell above the door blares loud, and your bright smile drops once you recognize her, and with that, her stomach. Ellie mentally notes the bags forming under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. It looks like you haven’t rested for days. Her heart squeezes. 

Your movements turn robotic; stiffly perched on the sides of the iPad stand as your thumb works on the screen. You haven’t looked Ellie’s way since. She approaches the counter with her tail between her legs, fidgeting with her middle finger. 

“Um… hey.” Ellie’s quiet. Out of place. Afraid. 

“What can I get for you?” 

Even with the stiffness, you somehow still manage to sound as soft as a cotton ball, but Ellie’s body locks. The scenario hits her like a brick wall; she’s doing exactly what she accused you of doing to her last week. Bothering her at fucking work. She should’ve never come to your place of business to coddle her ego. She feels like a hypocrite. You certainly see her as one. 

“Um… A cookie?”

“… What flavor.” 

“Uh… peanut butter?” 

You swallow thickly, voice hollow, “That’s not on the menu for this week,” You point towards the display of cookies that were big enough to feed a family, “These are the six we’re serving until Sunday. You can also look at the menu on the screen.” 

Ellie follows your pointing finger. How the fuck does this place work? Weekly flavors? What the fuck does that mean? She quickly examines the names of cookies that flash across the screen: raspberry cheesecake, pink velvet… Mom’s recipe? Odd name for a dessert but she lets it slide. 

“W-What’s your favorite?” 

You’re a baker, for fucks sake. You’d have better taste than anyone, better than her, she’d painfully admit. 

She watches your fingers clench around the screen, tapping mindlessly. 

“Um… raspberry cheesecake.” 

“I’ll get a dozen.” 

“O-Of the same flavor?” 

She shrugs like it’s obvious, “… Yup.” 

You give her one skeptic look before tapping at the screen. “It might be a little wait. About 15 minutes. Do you mind?” 

“No.” 

“Cash or card?” 

“Card, please.” 

More tapping, “That’ll be $41.65. Swipe or tap whenever you're ready.” 

A financial dent over a box of cookies was not on her bucket list. You hand her the receipt, and before you can rush to the kitchen, Ellie exclaims, “When’s your break?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“W— um, when’s your break?” 

Your coworkers are suddenly very interested in Ellie, all four of them eyeing her like venomous hawks. Her cheeks burst into flames. 

“Um… I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” 

And you’re right. Anything involving you is short on Ellie; it was never her business, but a burning in the pit of her stomach desires to learn. Needs to catch you at the right time to give you a proper apology even though she doesn’t deserve the time of day. She doesn’t know what to say. 

You use her floundering as a scapegoat and hustle behind the slamming doors. Just as Ellie rushes to leave empty-handed, one of your employees — Abigail reads across her name-tag, keeps professional, but Ellie’s skin burns with the fire in her eyes. 

“We’ll have those right out for you,” monotone, but gruff. It makes Ellie wonder if you told any of them about her — she doesn’t doubt it. 

“You can wait outside.” 

One stiff nod, and Ellie’s booking it until her feet plant on the packed sidewalk, nearly bumping into a couple with interlocked hands. It takes 25 minutes for the box of cookies to be rigidly placed on the lounge table by another employee. Ellie scurries into her truck with a boiling face and pulls out into the road. 

When she makes it to her apartment, she eats three mini cheesecakes in one sitting.

She sees why they’re your favorite. 

The following week was filled with glares and curses from Dina and Riley — your newfound friends, evidently. They have a way of making Ellie feel like a worthless dunce. They both have rubbed in the tales of you being a thrill to be around; the life of the party whenever they hang out. 

It makes her nauseous. And sad. 

But her sadness swiftly shifts to bewilderment when she catches you smoking near a lamppost after closing. Still in your uniform with a bag over your shoulder, pants dusted in white, proof of your labor. It’s dark out, the only illumination coming from the light stood tall above you and the orange gleam of your cigarette. The sight shocks her. You didn’t seem like the type. 

Maybe that’s where Ellie went wrong with you: constantly assuming… who you are. Your desires, your intentions with her, her friends. She’ll admit her wrongs, of course. 

But it has to be to you. 

Ellie scares you when she approaches, inhaling the nicotine a bit too roughly because you start heaving. Shoulders hunched and jumping with every cough. 

“Uh — fuck, I’m sorry! I-I thought you could see me coming! I didn’t mean — fuck —“

You’re still choking, but you hiss in between, “What the fuck do you want!” 

“I’m just — I’m sorry about —“

“You’re not — cough — you’re not sorry! You made your point clear. I don’t why you keep — cough cough — following me. I left you alone like you wanted!” 

“I DON’T WANT THAT!” Ellie shrieks in panic. 

It’s a heavy-handed admission. A weighted confession that was said too aggressively given your flinching away from her. She takes an instinctive step forward. 

“Your cookies… tasted fucking incredible. I’m also an asshole.” 

The drag you take from your cig while she rambles is almost comedic. Brows cinched at the middle of your forehead, gauging her. You’re not convinced, but you’re not fleeing like the first time. She takes a leap, and a large step towards you. 

“I feel really… really bad,” Ellie’s much quieter, eyes unwavering and the softest she’s ever shown you, “I shouldn’t have… said all that. To you. I’m just so used to being harassed at work. I’m sorry.” 

Maybe nicotine calms you. Your body language isn’t as taut compared to when Ellie first initiated conversation, and your eyes soften at her reasoning. 

The rasp from your timbre melts her skin like butter. “I didn’t know you went through that. That sucks.”

Ellie shrugs, “I didn’t know you were… nice.” 

She made the mistake of attempting playfulness, “Maybe ‘cuz you wouldn’t let me talk.” You snark while ashing. 

“I’m sorry.” Ellie implores. 

You take one last drag before stomping out the flame. “Me too. For bothering you.” 

Ellie cringes at your choice of words, but nods in acceptance. “Are we, uh… okay, now?”

A small smile grows on your face. It’s cute. Makes your cheeks puff out like a hungry squirrel. 

“We’re good.” You extend a fist out to her, and she connects her own at the knuckles. 

When they drop, Ellie nervously stares at her shoes, “Do you want a ride home?” 

“I’m alright, thanks.” 

“C’mon, I don’t want you waiting out here by yourself.”

You pause before asking, “What’s the catch?” Your brow arches mischievously.

Ellie doesn’t hesitate, “More of those cookies.” 

A giggle escapes you. Soft and airy like a feather. Ellie feels a tight clench in her chest. A thumping from her ribcage. Has your smile always been this vibrant? She mentally kicks herself for not noticing before. 

Ellie escorts you to the passenger's side of her passed down pick-up: opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before starting it up. She learns you’re a metalhead when she cranks the radio to the highest volume. 

… How quickly can crushes develop? 

Two months. Ellie’s spent two months finding every excuse to spend time with you. She welcomes your visits to the record shop and silently thanks the heavens above when you call after her shift to talk about your day. Listening to your rambles about customers and their weekly cookies has become the highlight of hers. 

She’s also found comfort in watching you fail at playing guitar. You’re adorable whenever you strike an incorrect chord or break a string. She’s more than willing to guide you through your trials: late-night invites to her apartment to practice. One of your goals was to learn how to play the entire Vanara soundtrack. 

Ellie assumed she simply enjoyed being in your space. She does, but something shifted between you during one specific session. It was past midnight, and Ellie could tell you were getting tired. She innocently suggested for you to spend the night so you wouldn’t have to Uber at such a late hour, and you graciously accepted her offer. When you started to get comfortable on the couch, she tuts in disapproval and invited you to share her bed because it was more comfortable. 

What a mistake. 

After showering and changing into comfortable clothes, you both crawled into bed and swiftly drifted off. When Ellie’s eyes opened the following morning, her heart immediately traveled up to sit in her throat. If anyone told her she’d wake up with you completely sprawled out on top of her with your warm breath hitting her neck and her arms wrapped around you, she wouldn’t have believed them. She was completely frozen beneath you, but not for the reason she’d assumed. 

Ellie was scared to wake you up. Ellie was scared you would move away from her. 

She was pulled between waking you up and pulling you even closer. You were soft and warm and you smelled like her cinnamon body wash. A literal human cookie. She caressed your back as delicately as she could, and you nuzzled into her shoulder with every swipe. She hoped the harsh thrashes from her heart wouldn’t disturb you. 

They didn’t. 

You took a piece of Ellie when you left her apartment that morning. She’s not sure which part you stole, but she hasn’t felt the same since then. A pull towards you that’s electric, sparks her to life, keeps her up at night. Whenever you’re away, at work, not next to her, she’s desperate to pull you close. To breathe in the natural scent of you. 

Evidently, crushes develop rather quickly. 

“I thought baking was supposed to be fun.” Ellie huffs from where she lays on her bed. 

“It is fun! My favorite past-time, actually,” She watches you pace around her bedroom, guitar still strapped securely around your shoulder, “It’s just stressful when you have chefs constantly breathing down your neck. It’s so hard to be creative because they nitpick everything.” 

Creating a menu is much harder than Ellie assumed. She’s become the person you’ve come to whenever you’re fired up from classes, ranting and raving about the apparent dickheads that judge your creations. After testing your recipes for as long as she has, how could anyone turn down a dessert from you? 

You’re such a hard-worker. Focused, determined… pretty when you’re brainstorming. Pretty when you’re talking… Pretty when you’re smiling. Standing. Staring off into the distance. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all Ellie can say. She’s been trying to mask her rampant stares at your bare thighs for the past… however the fuck long. They look so soft. So pliable. So easy to stretch and pry and yank at— 

Her guilty pleasure went from collecting Pokémon cards to gawking at your legs whenever you wear shorts. 

Ellie’s definitely crushing. 

Crushing very, very hard. 

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— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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— ELLIE WILLIAMS (TLOU2)

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