#dolly writes

[bloodibambiidoll]

What would Rafe be like with weird!girl having to use their safe word? Also what do you reckon she’d use it for?

Okay so !! She’s only ever used it a few times but I think one thing would be edging her when she’s like really needy. Just like to the point that she can’t take it anymore bc she’s spoiled and overwhelmed and wants to cum. And he’s a sucker for her so he would, in fact, let her cum. There’s a lil callback to this blurb in this also. Ty for the request bb! 🤍

Warnings: Orgasm denial, pussy eating, fingering, pussy slapping, use of a safe word, Rafe calling reader “bats”, daddy kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, baby talk and gooey fluff at the end.

Rafe has been pushing you to the edge with his tongue and fingers and then ripping your orgasms away from you for what feels like hours now. No matter how hard you beg he won’t fuck you or let you cum and you feel like you’re going to go insane. Your pussy is pulsing and your entire body shakes as tears stream down your face, streaking your cheeks with your prettily applied make up. Your body is covered in a layer of sweat and your chest heaves from how loud you’ve been moaning and whining underneath him.

“Please let me cum Rafe -“ Your fiancé pulls his fingers and lips from you to land a harsh smack on your aching cunt and send you a look of disapproval. “Ah fuck! I’m sorry! Daddy, please please let me cum!”

“You’ll cum when I say you get to cum, your pussy belongs to me. I say when she gets to gush for me. Not you.” Rafe thrusts his fingers back into your puffy, dripping cunt and it causes you to yelp and arch your back off the bed. He pumps them in and out of you at a rough pace, curling his fingers against your walls and bullying your sweet spot. His thumb comes up to rub circles on your slick clit and it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as your pussy pulses around his thick digits. You’re so close and you think he’s going to finally let you cum but the minute that you’re about to finally tip over the edge it’s ripped away from you again. Rafe pulls his fingers out of you to smack your aching core and a loud sob rips through you.

“Daddy, please, please let me cum. I’m yours, only yours, my pussy is yours my cum is yours my body is yours. Please just fuck me!” Your voice is practically a babble from begging and sobbing and Rafe just smirks down at you. Loving you like this. And usually you love it too. But this is the longest it’s gone on and you’re starting to become delirious from how badly your body wants a release. You didn’t even do anything. It’s not your fault Mr. Robinson saw you at the country club and decided a good time to say hi was when Rafe went to the bathroom. When Rafe came out and saw him practically fucking you with his eyes he saw red. He grabbed you by the waist and hauled your ass home immediately. But not without giving the older man a piece of his mind, of course.

“Mmm, I don’t think I will, princess.” Rafe chuckles as he leans down between your legs and licks a stripe along your pussy to your clit before thrusting his tongue into your hole. He flicks it inside you and swirls it around while his hand comes up to give your throbbing clit attention. He rotates between fucking you with his fingers and his tongue, never letting your clit go untouched. When he sucks it hard into his mouth with his fingers rubbing against your g-spot you know you’re about to cum, your legs try to clamp around his head but he uses his free hand to keep you spread open for him. The knot in your stomach tightens and your walls spasm around his fingers. Half broken sobs leave your mouth as you beg him to let you finally cum.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum, please daddy!” You attempt to thrust your hips against his face to push yourself over the edge but his hold is too strong, and then it’s gone. He pulls away from you entirely, sitting up on his knees looking down at you with a fire in his eyes as he takes his dripping fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean before smirking down at you devilishly. And normally you would think that was insanely hot but all it does is make you sob. You know your period is close and it’s making you extra needy and the fact that he stopped again nearly devastates you.

“You’re so pretty like this, my pretty little slut begging me to let her cum. Crying f’me.” Rafe swipes his thumb across your cheek, wiping some of your tears clean. Then he uses his tear stained fingers to spread your pussy lips before pumping them inside of you, not even giving you time to think before he’s pushing you to the edge and pulling you away again. And then he’s fucking you with his tongue again and this time when he rips away you can’t take it anymore. Your eyes hurt from the mascara running into them and your thighs are sore from the way he’s kept you propped open. The worst part is despite how bad your pussy aches you still want to cum so badly and you know he’s not going to let you. He promised you that on the drive home.

“Pumpkin! Pumpkin! No more, no more.” You shake your head from side to side as buckets of tears stream down your face and your entire body shakes with sobs. Rafe’s demeanor changes immediately, you’ve only ever used the safe word one other time when he was choking you so hard with his belt that you passed out twice, his perfect little freak. But right now? He’s realizing these aren’t the kind of tears he likes to see coming from his girl.

“Shit. I’m sorry baby. It’s okay, come ere.” Rafe unties his sweats so he can pull out his thick, hard cock. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to cum for a while now himself. He gathers your sobbing form into his arms and leans back against the headboard with you straddling him. “Daddy will give you what you need, aight? Just shhh, it’s okay.”

Rafe runs his hands through your hair and places a soft peck on your lips before raising your hips so he can line his cock up with your entrance and push himself inside you in one thrust. The feeling of finally him fucking you makes your eyes cross and fills you with relief. Rafe plants his feet flat on the bed so he can fuck up into you rough and deep.

“It’s okay, Bats. You’re okay, cum for daddy.” His thumb finds your clit, he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth and that’s all it takes to have ecstasy finally washing over you. A loud moan rips through you and your walls flutter around Rafe’s cock as a blistering explosion of pleasure overtakes your body. “That’s it, that’s my good girl. Gimme another one.”

Rafe flips you onto your back and throws your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck you even deeper. He leans down and kisses you messily, his thumb finding your abused clit as he practically folds you in half like a pretzel. You’re so sensitive that it doesn’t take much to have you gushing around his cock again. Your pretty moans and the feeling of your perfect fucking pussy has Rafe cumming right along with you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you with ropes of his cum. After catching his breath he pulls out and flips onto his back, pulling you to lay on top of him in one swift motion.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. Are you alright?” Rafe asks you softly as his hand gently caresses the curve of your back. “You’re usually into when I edge you. Did something happen?”

“Mmm, I’m okay, Rafey.” You hum and nuzzle into his firm chest. “Just gonna get my period soon and it just became too much. Wanted to cum on your cock so bad.” You look up at him with a pout and Rafe can’t help but chuckle at how cute you are.

“Yeah? Your body wants me to put a baby in you.” You scoff and swat his chest, rolling your eyes at the way he wiggles his brows down at you.

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately. Are you ovulating, babe?” You return his raised brow with one of your own and a cheshire smirk to match.

“Oh my god, just because you said your safe word doesn’t mean I won’t still beat your little ass.” Rafe smirks back at you and lands a little swat on your bare as that makes you yelp. “I love you.”

“I love you too. But don’t think changing the subject means I’m going to stop teasing you about your baby fever.” You giggle and place a kiss on his cheek as he groans.

“I don’t have fuckin’ baby fever, Bats. Get your ass up and start the shower before I get the paddle, for real. I’m gonna get you some Jammie’s.” Rafe grabs a handful of your ass before smacking it again and getting up to go toward the closet. He spends the rest of the evening pampering you with a massage, a comfort movie, and your favorite take out before making you cum until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore.

Tagging pookies: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @eddiesxangel @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @xxladymjxx @that-sarcastic-writer @sturnioloshacker

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

[dumblildolly]

I probably wouldn't even leave the house if the gods hadn't cursed me with baby hands that can't even reach my own g-spot

[littl3sp4rkly4ngel]

─── ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞

content warning ; ellie x fem!reader ellie being her chaotic self .ᐟ little bit of nsfw (talk about pussy and nudes), tiny talks about pregnancy and marriage, a little bit of cursing if u squint, mentions of reader’s sister, petnames.

author’s note ; i may be doing more parts if i feel inspired!!

part 2

palestine & tlou click to support palestine

[cas-backwards-tie]

I definitely think you should turn it into a series if you’re passionate about it! 😁🥰🙌🏻 absolutely LOVEEEE this! It’s so good- all the details- the thought, characterization. Literally it’s perfect 🥰 like I said, I was thinking about this the other day again and 🥵👏🏻🔥 it’s just… amazing.

DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND READ

Desperate Times Call For Different Measures

Prompt: "Himbo Nepo baby Ben Solo becomes cut off from the family money so he makes extra cash by coming an OnlyFans content maker who takes pictures of his cock next to stuff like footling subs and Lysol cans"

*Credit to @Ate_Lala_ on Twitter for the prompt

Warnings: vulgar language, descriptions of dick, swearing, brief description of masturbation (m)

Honestly it had started off as a joke. Actually, not even a joke. More like an act out of desperation. Once his dad had cut him off—literally, he cut his credit cards right in front of him, all 8 of them—Ben knew he needed money, and fast. He was accustomed to a certain lifestyle. How was he supposed to live without supporting girls through college by showering them in hundred dollar bills while they shook their plastic tits in front of his face, or missing out on fucking the new towel girl six ways from Sunday in the private tent at the country club?

God forbid he could no longer rail the models of the stupid fashion show his family was required to attend and try to see his cum leaking out and down the model’s legs as she walked down the runway, face flushed and thighs still shaking from being wrapped around Ben’s waist. The designers clothes honestly looked better with his cum staining it anyways.

No money meant no more car shopping, meant no more buying Rolexes, and no more Gucci. He had to deal with wearing last season’s line, and that was an embarrassment. The saving grace was that he had 20 days left on his membership of his last OnlyFans subscription. It was while he was cumming inside his custom made fleshlight to a girl dressed like some slutty anime character making herself cum with a tentacle shaped dildo that it hit him; He could make an OnlyFans.

Ben Solo had the body of marble carved by the gods and he knew it, but he also knew there was one part of him in specific that was godly as well. It was already difficult enough finding clothes that fit his Sasquatch body, but finding underwear that didn’t end up with a hole in the crotch from the fabric being stretched out by his megacock was in and of itself an impossible mission. Half of the time he just went commando.

It would have to be under a fake name. But what would he post? He didn’t need his face out there and deal with his dad cursing him out about disgracing the family and end up disowning him. And chicks weren’t fans of being filmed and uploaded. People only care about dicks either way, that was the main thing but jacking off seemed lacking in pizazz. He liked to show off. He liked to know that he could get girls on all fours at the snap of his fingers and he most definitely liked to show that he was better than any of the guys out there in the world. And what best way to do that than to emasculate them?

That whole thing about the chick with the big fuck-me-eyes from 'That 70’s Show' comparing her husband’s own schlong between a beer can or a carrot stick popped into his mind. And that was his first post. His limp dick in the middle of a carrot stick and a can of Modelo all lined up on the black countertop of his bathroom sink with the caption ‘Guess I beat Ashton Kutcher.’ Post to Twitter. Cha-Ching. The next day when he had checked his profile, girls had flooded his subscriber count faster than he racked up credit card bills.

‘I squirted just by looking at it 💦’

‘That thing could split me in half and I wouldn’t complain 🥵’

‘Give me that hard cock 🥵🤤🍆💦’

They thought he was hard? Well this had to be remedied, he didn’t need them thinking this was as big as he could get. He looked around his room for the closest thing he could use as a comparison which was his Fiji water bottle and rushed to the bathroom, not even hesitating to yank his sweatpants down and start tugging on himself. His mind rifled through the mental spank bank Rolodex until he landed on the memory of freshman year in college when he had a 3rd year sorority girl blowing him outside the building where he was supposed to be taking his midterm. Oh, the sinful noises her throat made….

He had to stop before he came. This was a noticeable difference in comparison to his first post; this time the veins were more prominent, his foreskin was pulled back to reveal his swollen red tip that was oozing precum tears on the sleek counter material, and the 3 birth freckles that were scattered along his shaft just like he had on the rest of his body.

‘Oh you guys thought I was hard before?’ Post. Mega Cha-Ching. If the comments weren’t flooding his mailbox before, they were a sea of messages now. From then on, his fanbase grew and so did the numbers in his newly opened bank account. Ben took great pride in his photos, always making sure the angle captured the size of it versus the competiton object he had next to it. The photos were always of high quality though he supposes he owes that to his phone’s camera. The latest model he got sent for Christmas it wasn’t even out on the market yet. Mouthwash bottle, Lysol air freshener cans, footlong subs, a fucking Pelligrino bottle, you name it. None of them even stood a remote chance against Ben Solo’s cock.

On the picture comparing his cock to his size 13 Gucci loafers, a person had commented on the post 'It’s fake, it’s some kind of silicone prop.' Oh Ben’s ego didn’t like that. You could say a lot of things about him, but saying his massive horse cock was a lie? Think again, bud.

That was the caption of his next post—a video, his first video—where he had recorded the end of an intense masturbation session. If his cock wasn’t already proven to be inhumanly large, his baseball mitt sized hand just added fuel to the fire the way it stroked his engorged organ like it was a life or death necessity. The video was 30 seconds; 12 seconds of his foreskin slapping and his stuttered breathy moans before the rest of the clip showed him shooting his load big enough to fill the flask he used to sneak in to private school dances, groans and growls being exhaled through his teeth as he painted the black countertop. “Still think it’s fake, fuckhead?” He pants.

~~~~~

Author's note: If you guys think I should turn this into a series, lemme know! This could count as a sort of prologue or a quick little introduction to the story. 💜

[xochimillilili]

Soft loving sex without pentatration is so fucking wonderful. Pumping and stroking each other, as I bite and kiss his lips, making his laughs melt into moans~ Teasing at how easy he is to excite, how messy he already is as if I'm not wet and throbbing, sitting in a small puddle of my own cum already—whispering lewd fantasies and ideas to him as we pant and moan and groan

Biting him as we cum, as I bring out some toys, seeing his eyes light up, both of us whining and whimpering as I overstimulate us with them, all twitchy and stupid, to the point we're both pathetic cum sluts and dumb in the head

[dollypopup]

I've been seeing so many bad faith takes from people who just. . .don't understand these characters or their love story, so here I am, taking them 1 by 1 lol

Let's start with potentially the lowest bar for Penelope

"I was rooting for Debling for Penelope!" aka: I didn't want Colin and Penelope to have their love story

Most of the justifications of this perspective come from the idea that an absent husband who leaves you lots of money and space for your hobbies is an ideal prospect. And you know what? You're right! For MOST women of the ton, this is an incredibly appealing proposition! That's why Cressida finds it so enticing. She wants what he can offer, a life away from her family (this is something she and Penelope have in common), a comfortable life in which she is alright with a lack of affection. I would argue most women on the marriage market during this time would agree. Marriage is a business transaction more than a fairy tale for them, for most women of this time, of the ton.

But Penelope is not most women of the ton. This perspective comes from a fundamental misunderstanding of her character. Her seeing marriage as a business transaction is her giving up on her dreams of being loved. People just assume that Penelope's greatest desire in life is to write Lady Whistledown, when this is absolutely not true. I even saw someone say that 'Penelope found her purpose'. But we know this is false

Because she says it herself. In Season 2, right after Colin talks to Marina and she calls him a boy caught up in his fantasies, the conversation is contrasted with Penelope, who tells him it's important to have dreams and fantasies, to be fanciful. And this *connects them*. It is the first truly open conversation we see between the two of them, and when he asks if she's found her purpose, she explicitly informs us what it is: Something that encourages her to be brave, and witty. Something that takes her far away from the watchful eyes of her Mama. Something that fulfills her.

Lady Whistledown is not any of those things. Lady Whistledown, sure, encourages her to be witty, but also encourages her to be cruel, to make painful decisions. Lady Whistledown does not encourage her to be brave, in fact, it only exists through her hiding and secrecy. And it keeps her beneath her Mama's thumb, as she is literally tied to the ton and it's going ons by writing it. No, Lady Whistledown is not her purpose. Writing is her passion, and I do argue that writing is ONE part of her purpose, absolutely!

But. . .what else?

Well. . . .love. Love and connection. *Love* is what inspires Penelope to be brave, Love and comfort with Colin encourages her wittiness, and Love is what will provide her an avenue for leaving her mum. Love is Penelope's greatest dream and desire. And I am NOT just talking romantic love here, but love of all sorts. Philautia (self love), Pragma (love of duty), Ludus (playful love), Agape (universal love), Storge (familial love), Philia (friendship), and, of course, Eros (romantic and sexual). Love with Eloise, Love in her family, Love and Respect in her community, and Love that is romantic and sexual in nature. Love with Colin.

But what Debling offers her is only one of those. He can only offer her a love of duty, respect in her community with a title, a pragmatic marriage with no passion, one in which she is expected to wait for him with fidelity as he lives his own passions, and she occupies herself with her own interests (so long as, very importantly, those interests do not make a fool of him, since he did, after all, dump her when he assumed she'd cheat on him when he was away) (cue me: 'is this your king????'-ing @ you all). I am flabbergasted that people would think Penelope would find happiness being alone and writing Whistledown as a married woman. . .when she did not find happiness being alone and writing Whistledown as a single woman. All that would change is her title, and that's not enough. She deserves better. She deserves more. She wants more.

When she asks him 'Could you ever love me?' he responds with several long excuses that amount to: No. No, he could never love her. He is too tied to his work, he does not know her. He has been talking to her for a week and had maybe what? 5 conversations with her about it? 1 of which was comparing her to a dead deer mounted on a wall (and I'll try not to read too much into the metaphor of Women shedding their names, a death of their old selves in their society, to become a literal trophy holed up in a rich man's house) and another was in which she insisted she. . .loved grass? Come on, people. Have a higher bar for this character you claim to like so much.

Another conversation they share is very telling, in which he asks about her hobbies. She informs she enjoys reading, and he finds it quaint, charming that she enjoys romances. But he does not find that in any way comparable to his own work. Debling respects Penelope as most men in his society respect women: as a pretty bauble with which to decorate his life. Not an equal. He is glad she has a quiet interest that will keep her where he feels she belongs: in his home, tending to his fortune and assets. He explicitly states he doesn't want a partner who shares his passions, who enjoys the outdoors, but simply an honest woman who will tend to his lair estate.

What Debling offers her is a life of pragmatism and expectancy, and in many ways, loneliness. Penelope would surely cultivate friendships in this time, but in accepting his offer, she even says she has 'come to terms' with what he can provide for her. Not that she is happy, not that it is what she *wants*, but that she has come to terms with it. That she will be content. She will fill her days with love stories she will never live, and write about the day to day of a ton that does not accept her. Maybe, just maybe, she can even have a family, and she, like her mother, like Marina, like other tragic women in her society, will find happiness in her children, and not in her own life.

But why should she? Penelope? Penelope wants love. Penelope wants acceptance and tenderness and passion, and that's why I am confident in saying that Penelope has not, in fact, given up on Colin. Not her love for him, at least. Her love for him has not faded, remains evergreen: we see it when she reads his journal, when she stands in the sun after their reconciliation and feels at peace for the first time in the season, when she laughs at his jokes, when she asks him to kiss her. She has given up on one thing only: her expectation of him fulfilling that love. And that's what makes it so heartbreaking that they're both pining for each other, thinking the other does not feel the same. Because Penelope knows (and she is RIGHT) that her and Colin have something special.

This is heart vs. head, and honestly, not even Penelope's head wants Debling.

The people who say they were hoping he and Penelope would end up together, y'all are Portia. Your expectations for Penelope are that she should be happy with money and a title and an absent partner. And then, the quiet part is 'She shouldn't be holding out for love'. She shouldn't be holding out for dreams.

But. . .why not? Colin is in every single way an amazing person for her. And he's proof that she should have held out, that waiting was worth it. That it had always been worth it.

Because it is *Colin* who is the gateway to all those forms of love.

Pragmatically, Colin has money a-plenty. He's in good standing in his society, he's rich, he's attractive, and he comes from a wonderful family. Furthermore, even from season ONE Daphne said that Colin can make an interaction interesting. He makes Penelope laugh, he's a good dancer, he's adventurous and loves to travel. And most importantly, he'd love to travel WITH her. Whilst Debling is attempting to narrow her world, Colin, in contrast, wants to open it to her.

Since her and Colin met as children, much of the start of their love story for him was first universal, and then familial in nature. When first her bonnet flew into his face and he fell, he had no reason to be kind about it, but he was. He has a kind nature. But then as they became acquainted, and she had a connection to Eloise, it morphed from his universal love and good will towards strangers, to that of a family friend. The comment that he sees her as one of his sisters was harsh, but it's also not BAD that this is a kernel of their love story. It bred familiarity with them, and lead into a genuine friendship. And my god, I could talk about their friendship for days.

Colin has been an amazing friend to Penelope. He checks in on her, he writers her letters, he asks how she's doing, he offers her his hand to lift her up, he refuses to let her speak badly of herself, he's protective of her, he finds her funny, he seeks her out because he values her perspective. Colin adores Penelope, and the last two seasons have proven it in so many ways. Even in his pursuit to help her find a husband, this is a selflessness he offers because he cares for her. His goal is not to curry favor with her, his goal is only to uplift her. He only wants to see her happy. He holds her in the highest esteem and sees her in such a beautiful light. And that leads into her self love, because what Colin said to Penelope in Season 2 Surely if Penelope can see me this way, surely I can as well-- that rings true for Penelope, as well. Colin loves her so dearly and sees her with such grace, that she is then inspired to bring that inwardly.

Debling is the death of her dreams, and Colin is her dream in fruition.

But it is also risky, and it is also, in some ways, foolish. He's not a sure choice for her, but he's the BEST choice. He represents passion and tenderness, he is the love story of all her books and fantasies. Because what Marina said to Colin, that he is caught up in his fantasies: Penelope is, too. That's what makes them such a good match. And so with him, she blooms. With him, she feels brave, and is witty, and will come out from her Mama's thumb and her expectations. And what's left after Pragma and Agape and Ludus and Storge and Philia?

Well. . .. It's Psyche and Eros, isn't it?

So, at the end of it, at the 11th hour, when Colin comes to her and he is honest, and he is vulnerable, and he doesn't know she feels this love for him and has for so long, and he spills open for her, Penelope knows she doesn't have to simply be content.

She knows she can be happy. Fuck your low expectations, she *can* and *should* have a love story.

And the one she lives with Colin is such damn good one.

[whendidmythoughtsgocrazy]

Nearly everything I’ve learnt about love, I’ve learnt in my long term friendships with women.

k.b. // “everything i know about love” by dolly alderton

[porcelainbambi]

strawberries, cherries & an angel’s kiss in spring

a small glimpse into farm life with ellie <3

18+

ellie williams x femme coquette reader

disclaimer: the first picture in the moodboard is not meant to directly represent the reader’s skin/body, i just think it fits the mood well <3 ik this will only appeal to some ppl stylistically and that’s ok!! this one is 4 the coquette pillow princesses, hope u enjoy <3 dedicated to the lovely @clearheartgreyflowers n @elskittie who encouraged me to write a lil something in the first place!! mwah

You enjoyed the work that came with living on the farm, you truly did. Loved to wake up early while the morning dew was still clinging to every petal and leaf, loved to tend to the animals and manage the gardens you cared for so dearly. Loved to dance around both inside and outside, loved that it was all a part of your home, part of the life you shared with Ellie.

Since moving onto the farm, you had formed quite the habit of doing all your daily tasks in the early mornings, usually having finished all you needed to do before noon even rolled around. This left you with the opportunity to spend some time in your beloved kitchen, sometimes baking small desserts with what ingredients you had available, other times simply washing and preparing some fruit you had gathered for a snack you could share with Ellie, all before she had even begun her own work for the day.

While you thrived in the morning hours, Ellie, on the other hand, preferred to do her share of the chores around midday, finishing shortly before dinner on the odd days where serious labour needed to be done. Never the morning person, she would’ve kept you in the warm nest of your shared bed, loving on you from the inside out until her own work beckoned around midday, every single day if she could. Even by then, she still hated to be away from you just as much as you loathed being separated from her for too long.

And so, you often accompanied her while she worked. Her little shadow following her around, floating from task to task, sometimes attempting to help (though she almost always stopped you, insisting all you had to do was sit pretty and talk about whatever was on your mind.) She would let you guide the conversation while she worked, occasionally coming over to where you sat perched on the fence or the hood of her truck to peck at your strawberry-stained lips, rough hands gently grazing over the soft peach-fuzz hair on your warm skin, leaving you love drunk and breathless before returning to her job with a poorly hidden smirk.

You absolutely adored this routine. You loved to watch her work with her hands, white wife-beater and black jeans often dirtied with mud or motor oil, gazing at the way her muscles worked under her skin and trying not to lose focus on what you were saying at the moment, lest she catch on to your staring and tease you about it until you were pink faced and huffy.

You loved when that teasing turned into something more, ending in her taking you over the hood of her truck, on top of a hay barrel or against a tree, fucking you dumb with the strap she so often wore under her jeans just for moments like that. She knew watching her work tended to get you riled up, heat pooling in your tummy until you couldn’t take it anymore, whining and pleading for her until she put her tools down and all too eagerly came to your rescue, helping you take care of the ache between your soft thighs.

You loved the routine that’d been created over the years of living on your farm together, and Ellie loved it just as much, maybe even more.

Sometimes, however, all of your own work you had done so early that morning would catch up with you around midday, a wave of fatigue you would relentlessly fight, not wanting to miss out on a single moment with your girlfriend. That is until Ellie would notice your small yawns, the way your eyelids began to droop and she would insist you go lay down for a little nap, promising to come get you as soon as she was finished. You would always whine, insisting you were barely even tired, your own body betraying you when a yawn cut your argument short.

And so, with a few extra kisses and a pat on your bottom, you’d make your way over to one of your favourite places on the land you called home.

Next to one of your large oak trees laid a small clearing, a sun-dappled expanse of plush grass that practically felt like a blanket all on its own. Violets and buttercups littered the ground, an old large picnic blanket sprawled out that seemed to beckon you to lay down. Sometimes you didn’t sleep at all, simply lazing about and listening to the soothing sounds of the wind and the nearby river, the sheep occasionally bleating nearby, letting your thoughts and daydreams carry you away, often finding that those daydreams were awfully close to the life you already were living with Ellie. Sometimes you took the time to read, leafing through old magazines and books you’d read countless times before and somehow never tired of. But most times, your eyelids would heavy and before you knew it you were peacefully resting, dozing in and out of sleep until Ellie came to wake you, having finally finished her tasks for the day. Always gently climbing over your form, careful not to dirty your sundress with her own muddied clothes, admiring you for a few moments before gently rousing you from your slumber.

And that was just how she found you then: warm and drowsy, laying on your tummy with your cheek squished against your arm where you had rested your head. Your linen covered back rising and falling steadily with your breaths, the little sundress you wore ruffling gently with the occasional breeze. As her eyes skimmed down, she could see the way the dress had bunched up slightly with your small movements, the backs of your thighs completely bare up to the slightly visible crease where your thighs met your ass, pink cotton panties peeking out just a bit. She felt herself warm from the inside out at the sight.

Ellie approached quietly, as always. Wiping her hands on her jeans to make sure they were clean, she slowly knelt on the blanket, hovering over your sleeping form. As she leaned down, her senses were immediately overtaken by you, you, you. Your balmy skin that smelt like sun & faintly of the lavender soap she’d helped glide over your body the night before. Your hair splayed out over your shoulders like a veil, which she gently pushed away with a calloused hand to lay soft kisses on the expanse of skin now exposed to the humid air and her touches.

You awoke slowly, humming quietly when you recognized her presence. She always toke care to wake you as gently as possible, soothing you back into consciousness with grazing touches and hushed words. You rolled onto your back underneath her hovering form, blinking away the sleep from your tired eyes until the face you loved more than anything in the universe came into focus. A roughened hand came down to brush some of your hair out of your face as she smiled sweetly at you, finally murmuring out a greeting.

“Hi, sweet girl.”

You giggled at the pet name, muttering a small “Hi” back, cheeks heating already at the small display of affection. That was just the thing with these moments, no matter how frequently they occurred and how often she absolutely spoiled you rotten with her affection and touch, you were seemingly always more sensitive to it in that warm, sleepy, sunkissed state. Everything felt a million times stronger, heavier and simultaneously lighter, time passing leisurely under her gaze. There was nowhere else to be, nothing else to be done, your existence together on that frayed blanket the most important moment in history, as if the universe formed just for this. Just for the two of you. And, more often than you’d like to admit, in these moments you also tended to become a million times needier, the urge to be completely consumed by her and in turn to consume her back entirely overpowering any other senses you possessed.

Ellie knew this, of course. She could read you like a book that she knew by heart, had learned all your micro-expressions and committed their meanings to memory until she could practically read your mind at any given moment from a single glance, a one second scan all it took to know what you needed. Now was no different, as she immediately picked up what was going on: the tiny shifts of your hips under her own, the way you were worrying at your bottom lip with your front teeth, your little fingers aimlessly gripping and releasing the fabric of your dress as you gazed up at her, bambi eyes glassy and wide and so, so trusting.

Ellie also knew you were often too shy to verbalize what you wanted, when you wanted it. A much needed discussion at your small kitchen table had helped clear this up, as you explained to her how you often felt at a loss for words when you needed her most, throat seemingly closing up and an air of timidness taking over. She knew this, and she knew the solution was; To do all the serious talking, saying what needed to be said and letting you confirm or deny with your small noises and nods and the pawing of your hands until you’d relaxed enough to open up verbally again.

Toying with the trim of your dress between thumb and forefinger, eyes boring into your own with the intensity that always seemed to subdue your mind into that fuzzy state you couldn’t quite describe with words, she began to speak in the hushed tone she reserved for moments like this.

“You feelin’ a little needy, baby?”

You nodded, a small noise of agreement coming from the back of your throat.

“Want me to take care of you?”

You nodded quickly, up and down so fast she thought your head might pop off your shoulders if you kept at it.

She let out a small giggle, followed by a string of “alright, alright baby”s. You had been in this position countless times, enough so that she knew exactly what you needed the most, beginning by gently flipping up your dress and laying it neatly on your tummy. Placing soft kisses on the newly exposed skin, seemingly in no rush at all as you started to whine, hips stirring, body doing everything in its power to call her to where you needed her most.

This was stopped, however, by her big hands gripping your hips, gently pushing them down into the blanket again, holding them there as she continued her ministrations. “Easy, sweetheart” she cooed. “Gonna give you what y’need, just be my good girl ‘nd be patient.”

She didn’t make you wait too long, wanting to reward you for the way you almost immediately stilled your movements at her request. Repositioning, she laid down between your thighs, pushing your knees up until there was room for her in the middle. Propped up on her arms resting on either side of your hips, her head was now just mere inches away from your clothed mound. Your breathing had quickened significantly, and while another time she may have teased you for longer, really taking her sweet time just letting her warm breath torturously fan over your heat, she felt like being nice today. With one last look for permission being met with an eager nod of your head, she gently pulled the damp cotton to the side, simply admiring your puffy cunt for a moment before ducking her head down.

The first kiss she laid over your slit immediately had you keening, reaching a hand down to hold onto her own that was laid across your tummy, keeping you pressed to the blanket where she wanted you. It didn’t take long for the small kisses to turn into messy, open mouthed ones, to her flat tongue swiping through your folds, occasionally working her way up and suckling on your swollen clit as you cried out softly.

Your mousy noises were nearly entirely drowned out by her own noises of pleasure as she went to work on you. Ellie was never one to be quiet in times like this, and there was no exception when she was using her mouth on you. Grunting, moaning, slurping, all from her own enjoyment of the pleasure she was giving you mixed with the addicting taste of your juices she so greatly savoured, it was obscene every single time.

Eventually, she could start to feel your hole clenching around nothing as she continued her tongue’s movements. Dipping lower, she slowly circled it with the tip of her tongue, relishing in the feeling of your body fluttering against her prodding. Once she deemed you ready, encouraged by your increasing whines and a muffled “please” from your plush lips, she began gently pushing the muscle inside your warm heat.

Spurred on by your whines and the way your grip on her hand tightened, she flicked her tongue upwards and revelled in the way you clenched around it. Your taste was even stronger like this, now leaking directly into her eagerly awaiting mouth, and she couldn’t get enough, ever. She moved like a woman starved, the vibrations from the groans she let out adding to your own white-hot pleasure, which was mounting by the second.

You could feel it rising, building and building, knot forming in the lowest part of your tummy. The intensity was overwhelming and suddenly, your upper half felt too exposed. You needed to be eye level with Ellie, needed to feel completely encased by her, fully consumed by her. Needed the intimacy of her breath fanning across your face when you eventually reached your peak. You began to pull where you gripped at her forearm, mumbling a quick “up, up, please”, and of course she knew exactly what you meant.

Pulling away from your heat, you got a hazy look at the mess you’d made of her face, lower half glistening with your slick, reddened lips puffed slightly, appearing as though she’d just devoured the ripest peach one could find. She immediately replaced her mouth with her warm hand, simply cupping your pussy as she clambered, repositioning until she was laying next to you on the blanket, using her supporting arm to wrap around the top of your head a bit, caging you in safely. she removed her hand only to finally push your panties down your thighs, returning her touch the second they were out of her way. As she slotted her lips with yours, your own taste quickly melting with the laps of her tongue against your own, she let two of her fingers slip inside you, quickly assuming the motion she knew you loved so much: stroking your velveteen walls in an upward motion, punching in and out with her forearm so she hit that sweet, gummy spot with nearly exact precision every single time.

You were gasping into her lips immediately, still trying to kiss back through it all, small hand shooting up to wrap around the back of Ellie’s neck, keeping her face close to your own as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten further. She kissed the corner of your mouth where it was stretched open, sweet noises falling from your plush lips as the pleasure began to build to that special point again, this time feeling safe in her body’s shelter, allowing the feeling to wash over you completely as it rose. She knew it was happening right away, from the way you clenched around her fingers, gushing out more liquid that dripped down her wrist, to the frantic sounds you were producing and the way you gazed up at her, completely falling apart in a way you only could because you knew she was there to keep you together.

“You gonna cum, angel? Hm?”, she says against your lips, knowing she won’t get a proper verbal answer. A warbled moan and a teary-eyed nod are what she gets in response, and she knows the last thing you need to push you over that edge.

“C’mon baby, s’okay. Cum for me, you can cum. My sweet girl, let it happen. Love you so much-”

The knot unravels with a whip the second those words leave her lips, and she feels you gush around her fingers at the same time as she sees those familiar tears of pleasure spill over your inky eyelashes. You’re trembling and crying out, her movements continuing to help you ride it out as long as it can last. The pleasure is almost unbearable, warmth blossoming in your chest as your thrust your head into the apex of her neck.

You can distantly hear her speaking to you, not quite able to make out the words as you let it all wash over you, floating within your high, but you know she’s talking you through it all. You know there’s gentle praises spilling from her lips. And sure enough, as your senses begin to readjust, that’s exactly what you hear.

“There you go, thaaat’s it baby. My sweet girl, did so good, ‘m so proud of you, such an angel. I’ve got you, shhh-sh-sh.”

It’s only then that your ears register your own cries, gently whimpering into your girlfriend’s neck as the tears continue to spill. The overwhelming feeling from your release catching up with you, and you’re suddenly snapping your thighs shut around Ellie’s arm, the stimulation now too much in this sensitive state.

“Okay, okay baby, i’ve gotcha. Gonna pull ‘em out now, ‘kay?” she soothes, waiting for your approval before gently slipping her fingers out, triggering a rush of your own release to spill out onto the blanket below as you whine.

You feel her wiggle down your body until she’s face level with your now soaked pussy and thighs again, using her thumbs to gently part your folds without further stimulating your swollen clit. With a few tentative fingers, she scoops up what she can of your release from your drooling hole, shushing you when you flinch at the contact before popping them in her mouth, humming at the taste, her own eyelids fluttering.

After a few small kisses to the tops of your still shaking thighs, she gently pulls your cotton panties back up, playing with the little bow that sits at the top of the waistband gently before lowering your sundress once again, covering your sensitive cunt.

Before you know it she’s back up there with you, lifting your spent body until you’re cradled against her as you catch your breath, humming contentedly. She kisses the side of your head, moving down to the fat of your cheek until you’re giggling and completely pliant in her arms. Only then do you begin to speak coherently again, starting the conversation in the only way that feels appropriate in the moment.

“Love you els”, said through giggles.

Ellie thinks her heart might just break through her ribcage and escape her body in an attempt to completely join itself with your own.

“I love you more, silly girl. How you feelin’? All good? Comfortable?”

Your answer is easy, not needing to think at all. “Perfect”, you mumble back. “Jus’ a little sleepy again.”

Ellie laughs, hard enough to shake you a bit where you lay against her chest. You didn’t need to tell her that for her to know, your penchant for wanting to sleep against her skin after she’d fucked you dumb all too familiar. “Alright, I hear ya sleepyhead. What d’you say we head inside, get cleaned up and cuddle a bit before dinner? Hm?”

You nod, humming along before thinking for a moment, brows furrowing in the slightest, immediately prompting Ellie to smooth it out with her thumb. Then blinking up at her gently, eyelashes fluttering, giving her those bambi eyes you know she melts under the gaze of before speaking once more.

“Carry me inside, els?”

And she never, ever could say no to that request.

[janebonbon]

The Muse and The Artist

[bloodibambiidoll]

The Butcher’s Angel ⟡ Cooper Abbott x Reader ⟡

✬ You go to see your bestfriend after a failed hook up and her dad, who you’re just slightly obsessed with, is the only one home ✬

This one goes out to my shawties @cxrrodedcoffin & @babygorewhore ily sister wives🤍

Warnings: Bestfriend’s dad!Cooper, made up daughter, talk of murder(he’s a serial killer, duh), obsessive behaviors, blood, glove kink, spit, blow job, hair pulling, daddy kink, choking, biting, marking, size kink, reader has tattoos and scars, unprotracted sex, pet names (angel, kitty, etc.) 18+MDNI!

Your fist bangs your best friend’s door for the fourth time and you’re starting to think she isn’t home. Which is odd, considering that her car is in the driveway and as far as you know she didn’t have plans tonight. And you tell each other everything. Which is why you came straight here when the guy you’ve been hooking up with stood you up again. As far as you can tell her dad’s car isn’t here either and you really don’t feel like going home to your empty apartment sad and alone. So you decide to just open the keypad on the garage side door and let yourself in. If she isn’t here asleep she’s probably out with her dumb ass boyfriend and will be back later on. You’ll just wait for her. No big deal. Or so you thought.

Mr. Abbot’s car is in the garage and the door to inside is open and you can hear rustling around in the kitchen. Your heart rate suddenly picks up because if she’s not here and he is, that means you’re alone with him. And you might have the tiniest obsession with your best friend’s dad. He’s just so kind. And handsome. He is so tall and firm, you just know you’d feel small in his thick arms. His smile is warm and inviting and there’s always been a place at his table for you for as long as you and Lina have been friends. And you know he’d fuck you like a real man should. Dominate you entirely and make you his. Especially considering that he was the butcher. You know he has some pent up energy to get out. And you’d love for him to use your body to do just that. You don’t care how sick that makes you.

You didn’t mean to find out. You were snooping around in his room one day when Lina was in the shower, just innocent curiosity. But what you stumbled upon was anything but innocent when you opened a hidden drawer in his wardrobe and found a duffel bag filled with tools and sedatives. It wouldn’t have been that out of the ordinary if it wasn’t for the hidden camera monitor. When you turned it on there was a man in a basement begging for his life. You panicked and quickly put everything back exactly how you found it. Afterwards you sat with the information for days. But in the end you decided not to go to the police. Instead your crush on him grew into obsession. You followed the butcher’s every move through the news. You knew his work schedule from the calendar on the fridge. He didn’t have any social media but that didn’t stop you from staring at the few photos on your best friend’s profile, analyzing every detail of his body.

You’d lay in bed at night and fantasize about him coming home after and kill and fucking you covered in his victims blood. You’ve spent hours dreaming about the way his thick cock would feel stretching you out and how fucking sexy his body would look over yours while he pounded you into the mattress. It was starting to become a problem, he was taking over your every waking thought and even your dreams too. You aren’t sure if you want your best friend to be home anymore. Part of you wishes she won’t be. And it’ll be him, waiting to make all your dreams come true.

You take hesitant steps forward, your platform Mary Jane's squeaking against the cement of the garage floor. When you break the threshold you don’t see anyone at first, it’s only when you step in far enough to get a view of the dining room that you see him. Cooper. He’s sitting at the head of the table with his hands that are covered in black leather gloves folded in his lap, looking toward you with a welcoming smile. One not unlike the ones he gives you any other time you come over. But his eyes hold a hint of something else, there’s a tension there, a slight twitch in the corner that you probably wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t spent hours analyzing the features of his face.

“Oh! Mr. Abbot!” You squeak out as your steps come to a halt, your hand raising in an awkward wave. “I didn’t think you’d be home I was looking for -“

“You think you’re sneaky, but you’re not…” Cooper’s tone is warm but there’s a hint of condescendence there. Like you’re a silly little girl that knows nothing while he knows everything and more. “See, at first I thought maybe my daughter was snooping through my things. And that, that, would’ve been an entirely different disaster. But once I realized it was you. Well, I spent some time wondering what to do with you and looking at you now, I think I finally have an answer to my question…”

“I - I’m not sure what you mean?” Your spine tingles and your entire body shakes in anticipation of his answer.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, sweetheart.” Cooper chuckles darkly, his large hands flexing in the leather gloves causing them to squeak lightly and his boot clad foot starts to bounce slightly on the wood floor. Each move he makes only causes your heart rate to increase. With fear or desire you aren’t sure. Probably both. “I know you got into my bag. You thought I wouldn’t notice? You didn’t think I’d notice the way you look at me like you not only fear for your life but also want me to fuck you like a little bitch in heat? Just like you are right now.”

“Mr. Abbot, I don’t know what you’re -“

“Hush. Stop trying to lie to me. Come here.” His tone remains level and welcoming despite the commanding words on his lips and you can’t help but clench your thighs together when he snaps his gloved hand before pointing a large finger to the ground in front of him. Your legs carry you toward him almost subconsciously as you scurry across the room to stand in front of the man that’s filled all your sickest fantasies for months. You stop a foot shy from him and look down at him nervously with your hands folded in front of you. “You’re so beautiful and so naive. You wanna know how I found you out?”

“Sir, listen, I really didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I was just looking for Lina but if she’s not here right now that’s totally okay! I can just go!” Your words are rushed and you talk exaggeratedly with your hands, it makes Cooper chuckle as he shakes his head lightly.

“I told you to stop lying to me.” He smiles up at you but this one is different from before, there’s a twitch in the corner of his eye and in the tilt of his lips. Almost like one wrong word would make him snap. “Don’t act like you aren’t excited that it’s just us here. I know you are. Do you want to know how I know? Say yes.”

“Yes, sir.” His tone doesn’t hold room for argument so you just nod as you wring your hands together in front of you and sway on the balls of your feet.

“I know because you thought I wouldn’t notice you snooping around in my room and taking my things but you were wrong. I know because I have exactly 8 plain black t-shirts and ever since the day things in my special bag were rummaged around I’ve only had 7. I know because you know my deep dark secret, and have for months now. But you’ve still come over here regularly, you’re alone with me and instead of fleeing you came at my command like a kitten to milk.”

You aren’t sure what to say because he’s right. You did steal one of his shirts and go through his bag. You’ve done things with that shirt that you’d never willingly admit out loud and you’ve spent countless nights mulling over the content of that bag. Cooper takes your silence as a chance to reach out and cover your hands with one of his large gloved ones. And it’s only then do you realize that the black adorning his hands is covered in crimson liquid. Blood. A small gasp leaves your lips but you don’t move from his hold as you look down at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“But my question was, why didn’t you tell anyone? Hmm? I wasn’t positive until right now. But you don’t mind, do you? You’re drawn to this… darkness. If you weren’t you would’ve gone to the cops. If you weren’t, you’d be running right now.” He tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes roam your figure as if he’s contemplating what to do with you. “I thought I’d have to kill you, you know? I was trying to think of the best way to make it look like an accident, to make sure it wouldn’t come back on me. But I think you’ll be far more fun for me alive.”

“Sir…” You’re shaking where you stand, your entire body feels like it’s on fire. But not with fear. Shock and desire fill your very being and crawl into every crevice of your soul.

“God. Do you realize what it does to me when you call me that, little girl? It makes my cock twitch in ways it shouldn’t. Everything about you makes me want you in disgusting ways.” Cooper’s fingers tighten around yours and it causes his hand to brush against your dress slightly, streaking the white material with red. His eyes widen as he lets out a hard breath through his nose. “Take it off. It’s ruined. Take it off.”

“What?” Your jaw drops as you look down at him, did he really just ask you to take your dress off?

“Take. The. Dress. Off.” Cooper growls, the leather covering his hand coming up to grasp onto the material of your dress and pull you the rest of the way close to him. The look in his eyes is crazed as he stares at the red streaking the soft material. “Take it off and throw it in the fire. It’s ruined. The only thing I want to see ruined is you.”

His tone oozes authority and leaves no room for argument. It has your pussy clenching around nothing as your fingers lace through the hem of your dress and pull it over your head before you even fully realize you’ve obliged him. You’re left in nothing but a tiny pink thong, your little white socks, and your Mary Jane’s. The dress flattered your tits perfectly so you decided against a bra. Cooper groans low in his throat at the sight of your body on display for him. You’re even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. And he’s imagined you, that’s for sure. He’s spent hours fantasizing about what you’d look like all spread out beneath him or with your pouty, glossed lips wrapped around his shaft. He tried to fight it at first, he’s old enough to be your father but in the end that glint in your eye was what flashed through his vision while he tugged the cum from his cock.

“Go throw it in the fire and then come back and kneel before me, angel.” Angel. This isn’t the first time he’s called you that. But this time his voice is dripping with lust and it makes your head spin. You follow his instructions, you walk to the small lit fireplace on the other side of the dinning room and throw your dress into the flames. You get lost watching it get eaten by the fire for a few moments before the sound of Cooper snapping his fingers brings you back to reality and sends you scurrying across the room to him. You hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto your knees in front of him where you fold your hands in your lap and good up at him expectantly.

“Look at you. So obedient.” Cooper smiles down at you fondly as he takes you in. The little tattoos littering your body. Your gorgeous tits. The scars on your body that make you perfectly imperfect. He wants to tear you apart even more. But there’s something else that he’s never really felt there before too. The need to put you back together after. He hand grips your jaw causing the blood covering the leather to smear across your chin and you should be disgusted but it makes your core quiver. “So beautiful. Open that pretty mouth for me, angel.”

You obey, just like he knew you would. He’s had you wrapped around his finger for months and you’ve been none the wiser. You weren’t the only one keeping tabs, he’s been watching you too. Waiting for his chance to pounce and now he finally has you right where he wants you. On your knees, with your tongue hanging out of your mouth, looking up at him eagerly waiting to take anything he will give you. His gloved hand grips your chin before he leans down and spits on your tongue. You swallow without even asking and it makes his already rock hard cock twitch when a little hum leaves your lips. Cooper uses his free hand to unbuckle his belt so he can pull his cock out. Your eyes shine like you just found a treasure you’ve been searching years for as you take in the length and thickness of it, a bead of precum dripping down the tip. Cooper’s hand cups the back of your head, smearing red crimson in your hair as he pulls your head down toward his throbbing dick. It’s perfect, if you’re being honest. No guys your age have even come close to this and you know he’s going to ruin you for any other man.

“Yeah, baby, that’s a man’s dick. Why don’t you be a good girl and suck it for me?” You flick your tongue out and lick him from the base to the tip before lightly taking his head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. You tease the tip a little more before taking as much of him down your throat as you can and swallowing around him. “Oh, fuck, yes, that’s so good. Good little kitty.”

You pull back to spit on his dick before taking him down your throat again, massaging the underside with your tongue. You bring your hand to pump the small amount of him you can’t fit down your throat in time with the bobs of your head and Cooper thinks he might go insane.

He hasn’t felt like he was going to cum from a blow job this fast since he was in his early twenties. Your free hand comes up to palm his balls that are slick from your drool dripping down his cock and it causes him to practically growl. The hand on the back of your head shoves you all the way down on his cock. He fucks your face at a brutal pace, reveling in the way your drool, gag, and moan around him. He fucks your face until he feels himself nearing his end. Cooper grips your hair into a ponytail so he can pull you off his cock and take you in. Your make-up is running down your cheeks and the blood he smeared on your face mixes with the drool dripping down your chin to between your beautiful tits. Your hair is mused from him tugging on it and you’re looking up at him like you’d do any single thing he’d ask. He’s never seen anything more perfect.

“What a perfect mess I’ve made.” Cooper smiles down at you sweetly rubbing his bloodied hand across your cheek a final time before leaning back to pull the gloves off. They squeak as he takes them off his big hands that you’ve spent hours fantasizing about and your eyes may as well have hearts in the center. His hand reaches out to caress your blood free cheek and he glides it down your jaw, your neck and down your shoulder before continuing down to the valley of your breasts. He traces the curves of them before taking them in his hands and squeezing, pulling the prettiest little moan from you. “You’re so fucking soft. Stand up for me, princess.”

You push yourself up off your knees so you can stand in front of him, your head barely reaching the top of his due to the sheer size of him. Cooper reaches out and roughly grabs your hips, pulling you between his muscular thighs. He leans forward to place rough messy kisses on your tits, one of his hands finding purchase on your ass and the other traveling between your legs. His fingers caress the lacy material of your dripping thong and he groans against your chest. Cooper presses his fingers against your clit through the material and rubs firm circles while taking a nipple into his mouth and it has you throwing your head back with a loud moan.

“Oh, baby, you’re so fucking wet for me.” Cooper pushes your thong to the side so he can run his fingers through your slick pussy lips, gathering your wetness. He pulls his hand up, examining the way your juices shine and string together on his fingers in the low light. He takes them into his mouth and you watch his eyes roll back at your taste. “And oh, so fucking sweet. I bet you’re tight too. Let’s find out.”

Cooper’s fingers run through your folds again before he uses two of them to circle your entrance and thrusts them knuckle deep inside of you. He curls them just right while pressing the heel of his palm against your pulsing clit and it makes you feel like you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast. He pumps his fingers in and out of you quick and deep, hitting all the perfect angles. All while switching between firmly grabbing each of your asscheeks and sucking eagerly on your tits. He lands a harsh smack on your ass right as his fingers caress your g-spot and it has white hot pleasure washing over your body.

“Oh my god, oh fuck, I’m cumming!” You whine as your hips subconsciously thrust against his hand while you ride out your high. Cooper fucks you through it, not pulling away until your body starts to go limp. The sight of him bringing his fingers to his lips again and licking them clean like he’s savoring every morsel of your taste makes you dizzy.

“Mmm, next time I’ll have to taste that sweet pussy from the source. But, right now I need to feel you squeezing my cock. Come sit on it.” He leans back in the chair so he can unbutton his shirt and you literally feel a bit of drool drip out of your mouth at the sight of his perfect body. Cooper folds his shirt neatly and sets it on the table and then he pats his thighs as he looks up at you expectantly. You don’t waste any time straddling him on the wooden kitchen table chair with your hips raised slightly. He takes his cock in his hand and runs it through your wet folds before tapping the slick head against your swollen clit. He lines up with your entrance and you surprise the hell out of him by slamming your hips down flush against his, taking him all in one thrust. The stretch burns, but god, the feeling of him filling you up outweighs it tenfold.

“Oh fuck, you’re so big.” You whine and throw your arms around his neck, pressing your bare chest against his broad one. It pushes him deeper inside of you and you both moan at the feeling.

“And you’re so fucking tight.” Cooper growls in your ear before looping one arm around your waist and the other behind your back so he can grip onto your shoulder. He plants his boot clad feet flat on the ground and starts to fuck up into you roughly. You lean down and place messy open mouth kisses on his throat, you latch your lips onto him and start to suck and he grabs onto your hair and yanks your head off of him in response. “No marks. Don’t forget we aren’t supposed to be doing this.” Those words should disgust you, send you running for the door. But the reminder that this is so fucking wrong only makes your walls clench around him.

“Sorry, daddy, you just taste so good.” You whine and look into his normally chocolate eyes that are now nearly all black. His nostrils flare and he yanks your head further, exposing the column of your throat. He latches onto your neck and bites so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if it left a bruise. If that didn't, the way he was sucking on your skin right now was absolutely going to. His brutal thrusts never let up as bites down again before pulling away and planting a gentle kiss on the mark already forming there.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t claim you. You can blame it on one of your little boyfriends, I don’t have that luxury, sweetheart.” Cooper grips onto you tightly as he stands from the chair and manhandles you onto the table on your back. One of his big calloused hands grips onto your throat tightly, pinning you against the wood beneath you. “And I don’t think you know what you just did with that little nickname. You’re never escaping me now.” He chuckles darkly before slamming his hips against yours so hard the table squeaks and threatens to scoot across the sleek wooden floor. The hand on your throat doesn’t let up as he fucks you with reckless abandon. “Say it again.”

“Daddy! You feel so good! I don’t want to escape you! I’m yours! Please keep me!” You aren’t sure if you’re begging for him to fuck you again after this or if you’re pleading for him to not take your life but you think it might be a little bit of both.

“You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?” Cooper’s free hand grips onto your jaw, forcing eye contact. “Obsessing over an old man. A killer. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Anything you want daddy, my life belongs to you now.” And you mean it, even if he decides to kill you after this you’d be able to accept that because of how good he’s fucking you right now.

“Oh, you’d give your life to me?” Cooper looks at you almost inquisitively for a moment, like he’s really taking in your words. “That’s just… adorable.”

He smirks at you before leaning down to connect your lips in a brutal kiss. His tongue snakes its way into your mouth and dominates your own, exploring every inch. He’s fucking you so hard now that the table is tilting on its legs and the hand on your jaw snakes between your legs to find your clit. Cooper sucks your tongue into his mouth and your manicured nails scratch down his back causing him to moan loudly around it. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pressing your heels into the fat of his ass to pull him deeper inside you. Your hips raise up to meet his own as you fuck like animals. Cooper’s hand on your throat squeezes so tight it makes you dizzy and when he leans down to bite your lip so hard it draws blood it sends you over the edge. Your pussy convulses around his cock as your nails dig into his back so deep he wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the skin. He wouldn’t mind if you did. At least he could hide those.

“I’m going to fill this little pussy up and claim you with my cum. You’re mine now.” Cooper grips your hips, pulling your body down to meet his unforgiving thrusts as he chases his own high. It doesn’t take long for his cock to twitch inside you as he fills you with ropes of his cum. He grinds his hips against yours until every last drop fills you before looking down at your fucked out form. “You’re an absolute mess, my perfect fucking mess. My good girl.” Cooper hums and his hand comes up to caress your blood and spit covered cheek as he admires you like a priceless painting. “I’m going to keep you. I ought to lock you up so you can’t ever escape me..”

Divider by @anitalenia

[dumblildolly]

Ahaha sorry for having a vulnerable moment sharing my insecurities, that wasn't very Dommy mommy of me

[littl3sp4rkly4ngel]

─── ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐭 𝟐

content warning ; ellie x fem!reader ellie being her chaotic self again .ᐟ nudes, cursing, talk about fighting, mentions of sexual behaviour (neck biting, blowjobs, pinning against wall and sending nudes), petnames… and pics of silly cats :3

author’s note ; you guys ATE the first one in less then 48h like WHAT… hope u guys enjoy these ily <3 btw if u have any ideas drop them in my inbox!!!!

part 1

palestine & tlou click to support palestine

[stormisblooming]

🎨 my second riddle…..

Boothill x reader … let’s just say. I’m feeling Lucky!!!!!!!!!!

damn these riddles fun!!!!!!

Boothill x fem!reader; taking a nap with Boothill!

contains; guys I think Boothill has trauma & fluff fluff fluff

word count; 403

the fact you’ve managed to get this man relaxed enough in bed to sleep with you beside him is an achievement in itself my congratulations to you

I can’t lie. I don’t think he’d be the most comfortable to sleep with LMFAO

I MEAN HE’S MOSTLY MADE OF METAL. COME ON NOW

that said… I’m of the opinion he’d enjoy laying his head on your chest after a long day of gun slingin’, content to drift off to sleep in your arms in hopes having you there will stave off the night terrors long enough to get a good night’s sleep.

Boothill doesn’t often get the chance to take naps, per se, if he does they’re more akin to long blinks in a passably comfortable chair with his feet propped up on the nearest surface — taking a proper nap in a comfortable bed with his girlfriend? absolutely unheard of.

although when it happens once, he finds himself completely hooked. any time you two have a day off he’s pulling you right back into your shared bed in your room on the express, muttering something about how he ‘ain’t finished with you’.

he’s not quite ready to admit just how much he enjoys your company, the closeness of it all and the extra sleep… but you know. deep down, you know the reason he pulls you back into his arms is because it helps him take his mind off of everything for a short while. so, who are you to deny him, hm?

he’s big on tracing his cold metal fingers along your back and your waist until he falls asleep, even if you’re long gone by then — there’s something so intimate and mindless about it that he almost does it unconsciously. if he had many left, he’d call it muscle memory.

Boothill may be a big strong ruff-n-tumble Galaxy Ranger, but at the end of the day he is a man who has seen and been through far too much to say he’s holding it together as well as he is; still, will you hold him for five minutes longer? it’s just five minutes, then you can both get on with your day…

… three hours later, when March 7th comes looking for you, she finds you both zonked like you hadn’t even woken up that morning in the first place. not that she’s going to disturb you, you both look far too peaceful.

please do not repost

[dolly-gutzz]

smiles and cigarettes

warnings: pure cold hard fluff, no use of Y/N

Dallas winding x sunshine-y!Reader

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ 

Dallas Winston didn’t smile. It was his whole shtick. He was cold and hard and mean. He hated kids and candy. But the one thing he hated more than anything was feeling weak. And smiling showed weakness. So Dallas didn’t smile. Now you, you smiled. It was all you did. You smile basically showed rays of sunshine. You smiled so much that you had deep smile lines and still looked gorgeous. You were a ray of light. And Dallas, he was a dark stormy cloudy day. You know Dallas didn’t smile. Hell, everyone did. But you did every thing in you power to try to make him smile. It didn’t work. It never worked. No matter how hard you worked for him to even crack a smirk, it didn’t work. You never told him of this plan. You didn’t even mutter a word. But dallas knew. He knew how hard you worked for him to smile. But he wouldn’t let up.

So, that’s where this takes us. You were at the park with Dallas. You sat on the yellow-ish grass with a red blanket and a book. Dallas had brought some things. He said he would. You were really excited till you found out that some things to him was a pack of cigarettes and two cokes. So not what you had hoped for but enough.

You regularly hung out with Dallas. You had no idea why he even tolerated you, but you took what you were given and held it with pride. Everyone knew that Dallas was your friend. And even though they thought he was corrupting you, you still hung around him.

Dallas was laying on your leg sharpening his favorite knife as you sat up against a tree reading the book you brought. You laced your fingers through his dark locks as you read. Dallas, without you knowing, looked up at you occasionally. The fall sun shone against your face. It illuminated your eyes in a way that could make angels weep. Your chin was pursed as you focused on the words on the pages beneath your fingers. Dally thought you look gorgeous. Sure he had seen pretty girls before. But none like you. You were nice, and had never once turned your back on him. That is why he stuck so long. Other than the gang, you were the one constant in his life. Dallas knew what could make him smile. It was you. You had never once thought that you were the missing agent in the equation that was Dallas smiling. So you never tried it. As he watched your eyes scan the pages, his lips parted. The boys lips soon turned into the tiniest of smirks. Which turned into a grin. Which then turned into a full blown smile. As if it were magic, you looked down at Dallas just as he smiled. Your jaw was practically on the floor. Dallas had stopped smiling by now and you were at a loss for words.

“Dallas?” You questioned, “Did you just smile?”Dally smiles again and laughs.

“iunno” he mumbled back. He takes a swig of his coke before speaking again. “Wanna know why I did?” He asked. You found out that this was a game to him. You pondered your entire brain, ransacking every thought to try and figure out why he smiled. Maybe it was the sky? No he hates sunsets, he wasn’t Ponyboy. Maybe it was his knife and how sharp it got. No, he had sharped his knives before and never before had it gotten a reaction. So what on gods green earth made him smile. Dally watched you think long a hard on the reason he smiled. And when he figured out you had no avail, he folded

“you.” He blurted.

You stopped thinking and looked down at the boy on your lap.

“You made smile, doll” he said, his already big smile widening even more. You then start to smirk, then grin, then a full blown smile filled your face.

“Really?” You said in disbelief. Dallas nodded. You were surprised at his smile. It was pretty, very pretty. You wondered why he didn’t do it more. His smile lines framed his face perfectly. He even had some dimples. He was so pretty when he smiled, that you prayed that he would do it more. “Why me?” You asked the boy in your lap. Dallas shrugged. “The sun always comes out after the rain right?” He said playing with your fingers.

You felt like you were in the clouds you were so happy. You looked down at Dallas and tilted your head. “So all I had to do was,” you paused to ponder what to say. “Nothing?” You finally found the words to say. Dally nodded, lighting a cigarette, inhaling the bittersweet smoke and blowing it out. You were in shock. Jaw dropping, mind blowing, unbelievable shock. All you had to do was, be you? You wish you had found that out sooner.

Dallas had sat up and was facing you. You watched him take a few more puffs of his cancer stick, before putting it out.

Dallas was looking you in the eyes. His eyes read something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You tore your eyes away from him in nervousness. You felt your hair brush against your cheek. Dally pushes it out of the way, his hands staying on your pretty face. “Dally,” you whisper. “Yes?” he says back, glancing at your lips. “You make me smile too,” you say, finally looking him in the eyes. You too, glanced at his lips. Dallas leaned in and your lips touched his in a kiss. You were nervous, so the kiss was gentle at first. But Dally and his rough ways changed that quickly. His hand gripped your waist, the other on your neck. His kiss was filled was so much passion, it was dizzying. Dallas tasted like the coke and cigarettes he had brought. You thought you would hate it, just as you hated cigarettes. But the taste was so Dallas, that you just had to love it. Dallas’s lips left yours slowly. You both were panting, and dally was smiling once again. “Shit” he said. “How’s you learn to do that?” He said with his grin widening. You shrug “ I dunno” you say back, still panting from the incredible kiss. “Instinct” you say back. Dally nods and leans his forehead on yours.

You stay at the park, stealing kisses from each other while you read little excerpts of your book to him. Dally listened with love and passion in his eyes. You scowred the whole world to find out what had made Dallas Winston smile. Little did you know it was you all this time. And you would do anything to keep it that way.

[faerieroyal]

𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘’𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄’𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐒 !

— ❥ 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 + 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

( warnings: mentions of scars )

you wake up, as always, to the feeling of strong arms wrapped around your waist, warm breath on your neck, and soft hair tickling your cheek. slowly peeling your eyes open - a feat of sheer willpower on the best days, but especially on this rare weekend day that both you and your boyfriend have off - you blink in the soft light coming through your bedroom curtains, allowing your vision to adjust to working again after hours of sleep.

after the blur of drowsiness has faded, you crane your neck slightly downwards, taking in the absolutely precious sight that awaits you. steve - your boyfriend, your stevie - is still fast asleep, his face halfway tucked into the crook between your neck and shoulder. his famous hair is obscuring one of his eyes, some bits on the top of his head brushing against your face, and the cheek resting on your skin is smooshed up, his pink lips parted as he breathes.

you’ve always insisted that your boy looks his best when he’s sleeping, a statement that always makes his cheeks turn pink and his smile go shy, but right now, you think, it’s never been more true. steve looks absolutely cherubic at this moment, with the soft light from the window making the lighter parts of his hair shine and his face peaceful and open in a way it only ever is when he’s asleep. he’s beautiful, a picture of rest and serenity, the kind of image you’re sure any artist would want to make a masterpiece out of the instant they see it.

it’s a massive shame that you have to go and ruin it.

“steve,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low so as not to wake him up too abruptly. reaching up with the arm not held down by the weight of his head, you start to card your fingers through his soft hair, scratching his scalp lightly in that way you know he loves. “stevie, c’mon, wake up.”

it takes about a minute of ministrations and soft whispering, but eventually, steve stirs, not opening his eyes quite yet but letting out a soft, questioning hum, a heavy sound still loaded with sleep.

“i gotta use the bathroom, stevie,” you whisper to him, scratching his head a little harder than you normally would - not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt, but enough to keep him from drifting back off. “you’ve gotta move off me so i can go.”

“nooooo,” he whines, weakly squeezing his arms tighter around your waist and snuggling impossibly closer, his movements sluggish. “don’ go, stay.”

you chuckle softly. your stevie may be a touchy person pretty much all the time, always wanting to have his arm around your waist or his hand in yours when the two of you are out in public and always wanting you sitting on his lap pressed close to him when you’re by yourselves, but he’s clingy when he’s asleep or just woken up. you’ve often joked that he reminds you of a koala when he’s like this, all soft and hugging close to you like you’re a tree he’s trying to keep his grip on. he always playfully pouts when you make comments like that, but right now, as you’re trying to get out from being half under him, you’re struck by how accurate that observation actually is.

“steve,” you say softly, removing your hand from his hair to gently hook your fingers around one of his wrists and attempting to pry his arm off of you. he whines again, this time without words, but doesn’t protest any more than that as you lay his limp arm on his own side and carefully slide your shoulder out from under his head.

“i’ll be right back,” you assure him as you throw back the covers and wiggle out of bed, “promise.”

your boy doesn’t answer, seeming to have already fallen back asleep when you look back at him, but you still hurry in the bathroom, scurrying back into the bedroom and back under the covers less than three minutes after you left them. steve still doesn’t open his eyes, and for a second you think he’s well and truly gone back to sleep, but then his arm snakes back around your middle and pulls you close, putting you right back in the spot you’d been in when you’d woken up as he tucks his face back into your neck.

“so clingy, stevie,” you tease softly, twisting your head just enough to brush your lips across his forehead. you speak into his soft skin, a smile just slightly quirking the corners of your mouth. “we’re gonna have to get up eventually, y’know. just to eat ‘n all that.”

“n’right now,” he mumbles, plush lips tickling your shoulder as he speaks the same way his hair is ticking your face. “jus’ wanna hold you for now. wanna feel you an’ cuddle for a bit b’fore we gotta get up.”

and he pulls you even closer as he says that, which you hadn’t even thought was possible, like he’s trying to actually pull you inside of him, to fuse your bodies into one being so he never has to let you go again. and his words are so sweet, so sincere and perfect and so utterly steve, that you think you’d actually really like to do that - to tuck this boy inside of your rib cage, to keep him safe and keep him forever by having him as close to you as humanly possible.

but until science progresses enough that you’ll be able to do that without destroying both of you in the process (not that you wouldn’t, you think, destroy yourself to keep your stevie safe and protected), you settle for finding the raised lines littering your boyfriend’s torso under the sheets, gently running your fingertips along the scars from everything he’s been through, everything you’d give the universe to keep him from going through again - a gentle gesture of pure love, a silent vow of warmth and protection.

“okay, stevie,” you whisper, taking your lips off of his forehead but continuing your gentle touches to his scars, allowing yourself to focus on your boyfriend’s quiet breathing and the warmth of his body pressed so, so beautifully close to yours. “we’ll stay here for a little bit longer.”

you can tell he’s fallen back asleep before you’ve even finished speaking, but his hold around your body barely loosens - he clings to you, always wanting to feel your skin against his own, even in sleep. you don’t let go of him either, of course; you don’t fall back asleep yourself, but, you think in the soft morning light of your bedroom, holding this beautiful, strong boy in your shared bed, of it were up to you, you’d never let him go.

stranger things taglist: @mictodii, @whiskeyswriting, @lovings4turn, @dancingwith-sunflowers, @xoalexandrarose ! ( also going to tag @ghostlyfleur ��� )

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

[yournowheregirl]

my mind’s been stuck on secret dolly parton fan southern!eddie and suddenly it sprouted 2k of fic so uhhh here ya go? more to follow! (unbeta’d btw) [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 1: jolene

He might not look it, but deep down, hidden beneath the leather jackets and silver chains, Eddie Munson is a good old-fashioned southern boy. If you heard his uncle talk, you’d know he’s not from around Hawkins, but Eddie has mostly hidden his roots over the years. He had traded in his faded blue jeans for ripped black ones, his momma’s country vinyls were hidden away and replaced by heavy metal tapes and his drawl only comes out when he’s drunk out of his mind, calling everyone darlin’ and sweet pea. 

He misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song. 

Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps. 

And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

He doesn’t really know when it started exactly. Maybe it was back in high school, when Steve just filled out those gym shorts way too nicely. Maybe it was that summer when Eddie kept wandering through Starcourt Mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve in that damn sailor outfit. Maybe it was going through hell and back and somehow coming out alive, matching demobat scars and all. 

He doesn’t know when, all he knows he’s halfway in love with Steve and it’s frustrating to say the least.

Frustrating because he and Steve are somehow friends now and friends apparently talk each other’s ears off about their respective love lives. Including Steve’s endless supply of flirtations with girls at Family Video, just like today.

Steve’s been sweet talking some girl named Emily for the past twenty minutes now, really laying it on thick. Telling her how nice this shirt looks on her, how pretty her eyes look, how she really should find someone to watch Sixteen Candles with. Eddie turns away so that Steve won’t see the way his eyes roll at yet another one of Emily’s adorable little giggles. 

It’s not even justified, the nasty feeling in his stomach, the green snake of jealousy that slithers around his throat. It’s not like Steve is actually his. He’s just Eddie's friend. Eddie’s great, very straight, very much ladies’ man, friend. So Eddie keeps his mouth shut, grips his copy of The Thing a little tighter and pushes that feeling way deep down as the bell dings and Emily disappears through the door.

“Ha! Harrington’s back, baby!” Steve exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Eddie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Got a date this Friday.” Steve grins. He wiggles a piece of paper in between his fingers, probably with Emily’s phone number scribbled on it. 

“Nice.” Eddie says with a tight smile, hoping to God that Steve’s still too smitten to notice the way his body has gone all rigid. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty nice isn’t she?” Steve sighs happily. “Just hope she’s the one, y’know? I’m so tired of all those first dates, asking about each other’s siblings and favorite colors and I just… yeah, I just hope she’ll be the one.”

“Rooting for you, man.” Eddie says and oh my God, what kind of bro talk is that? Eddie wants to kick himself, but he just looks away instead, dropping the VHS on the counter.

“Thanks!” 

And he just looks so happy. His eyes glistening with hope, his lips (oh god his lips) turned into a victorious smile, his entire body just exuding confidence. Eddie really shouldn’t be mad at him, not when he looks like that.

Instead Eddie spends the entire drive back to the trailer park fuming and thinking of little miss ‘I-Hope-She’s-The-One’ Emily. Now, his momma raised him to be a gentleman but that vicious snake that made itself home in his stomach makes him want set fire to Emily’s stupidly perfect pleaded skirts. 

He’s so pissed off that he misses the exit that leads to Forest Hill, and instead he just keeps on driving. Past the luxurious villas, past the wide open fields, past the Leaving Hawkins sign. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, he just knows he has to leave. 

He only stops when it starts to turn dark outside and he spots a few warm lamps just on the side of the road. After closer inspection, it turns out to be a roadside bar, hidden away beneath some trees. Eddie’s stomach rumbles and he realizes that he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he parks the van and walks towards the bar, aptly named Off-Road.

Once Eddie steps inside, it’s like he’s suddenly back in Tennessee. He’s seeing men in flannel, shooting whiskey at the bar. Women in plaid dresses, dancing along to some honky-tonk song that’s playing on the radio. The wall decorated with all kinds of things that just scream Americana, old-faded photos of farms, a row of cowboy hats, an acoustic guitar on the wall.

He can’t believe what he's seeing, so he almost stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hiya kid. What can I get ya?”

Eddie looks up to see a small, but buff woman standing behind the bar. Her silver hair is cropped short and pulled back by a red bandana and the tassels on her leather vest swivel as she cleans a glass with a dishrag.

“Uh, just a Coke, I guess?” Eddie says. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yeah, mac ’n cheese’s on the menu today.” The woman smiles, busying herself with finding a bottle of coke beneath the counter. “What’s your name kid? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eddie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie. My name’s Pat.” Her voice is low and silky smooth, with the southern twang Eddie only hears when his uncle talks. “You from around here?”

“Hawkins.” Eddie nods. “But originally from Tennessee.”

Pat’s face lights up. “No way! Me too! Small world.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Eddie says. “Pat, can I ask… what is this place?”

“Oh this ol’ place?” Pat laughs. “This is just a lil’ home away from home. I’ve moved here for Tish, she’s the one in the green dress over there.” She waves towards the other side of the bar, where a woman with dark curls is scrubbing one of the tables. “But I’ve always missed home, y’know? So, we started this place a couple of years ago, 

“You and Tish are…” Eddie trails off, not sure if he’s put the right puzzle pieces together.

“Tish is my partner, yes.” Pat’s smile fades and gets replaced with a stern look. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“No!” Eddie says quickly, waving his hands in protest. “No, not at all. I’m… I’m also gay, y’know.”

“Tish!” Pat calls out, smiling when Tish looks up. “We got another one!”

“Stop adopting gay kids, Pat!” Tish calls back. “We’re running out of rooms!”

Eddie laughs. He’s gonna like it here.

-xxx-

After Pat’s absolutely heavenly mac ’n cheese, Eddie finds himself relax more and more and for the first time, he lets out his accent without any alcohol in his system. It’s not like anyone will make fun of him for it here, he thinks that Pat probably would encourage him to be as southern as he can be.

He chats with Pat and Tish and some of the other patrons as the time ticks by. Swapping stories about back down south, laughing at things the people here in Indiana just don’t understand, Eddie’s never felt more at home. 

Tish suddenly excuses herself as the bluegrass music on the speakers fades away. Eddie watches as she walks to the little podium in the far back of the bar and announces that the open mic night has begun and that anyone can join. An older man immediately jumps up and grabs the guitar off the wall and starts playing a song that Eddie vaguely remembers from back home.

“D’you play, kid?” Pat asks. “You look like you play.”

“Yeah, guitar.” Eddie replies. “Not like this though.”

“I figured.” Pat snorts. “You don’t really seem like the Willie Nelson type. But you’re welcome to step up and play us something.”

Eddie hesitates. Pat’s right, the music he normally plays doesn’t really fit in here. This is not the Hideout, this is not the place for screaming bloody murder about the injustices of the world and headbang while Gareth smashes the drums. 

Still, he’s feeling strangely drawn to the podium, especially when his mind provides him with a reminder why he drove away from Hawkins in the first place: Steve and perfect little Emily. And suddenly, he knows exactly what song to play. 

“Wish me luck.” Eddie grins at Pat as he stands up from his seat.

“Break a leg, Eddie.” Pat winks and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie makes his way to the other side of the bar, patiently waiting until the older man finishes his song and whooping with excitement once he plays the final chord. The older man smiles at him, grateful, and hands the guitar over to him as Eddie sits down on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Uh, good evenin’ everyone.” Eddie says into the microphone. “It’s my first time here, actually and I, uh, I don’t even know if I can play this song, but let’s try, shall we?”

The room is eerily quiet as Eddie tries to remember the chords from so long ago, the chords his momma used to play on warm summer days in their backyard. 

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene… I’m beggin’ of ya, please don’t take my man.” 

The words feel foreign and yet strangely familiar in his mouth. It’s been so long since he heard this song, but the words just flow out of him easily

“He talks about you in his sleep and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin’ when he calls your name, Jolene.” Eddie’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been as he tries so hard to push away the images of Steve and Emily, happily together. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man. But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

It feels good, cathartic even, to sing this song. Maybe even better than screaming along to Metallica’s latest album. Not that he’ll ever admit that to anyone, but it’s the truth. There’s no other song right now that understands exactly what he’s going through, that says the things that he wants to say but can’t, not out loud anyway. 

“Please don’t take him even though you can…”

Eddie plays a few more chords until he finally lets the song fade out and the bar burst out into the applause. It’s not the biggest applause he’s ever had (apparently murder charges does wonders for forming a crowd at the Hideout), but it’s definitely in the top three of best post-performance feelings of his life. Maybe because these people just get him, maybe because he can just sing about his feelings for Steve out in the open and no one will judge him or ask any questions about it.

“You got some real talent, kid.” Pat nods as Eddie slides back onto his bar stool.“You’re welcome to come back and sing a little Dolly for us anytime.”

Eddie’s certain that he will.