𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮'𝓼 𝓦𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓮

she/her ~ 18+

[daisylovesss]

🎀 Welcome 🎀

* 𝒟𝒶𝒾𝓈𝓎 * 𝟤𝟦 * 𝒮𝒽𝑒/𝐻𝑒𝓇 * 𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃 * 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 *

This is a wlw blog. Men are not welcomed here. This is mostly a NSFW blog so if you are under the age of 18 please do not interact.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ

What I will write:

Daddy kink

Spanking

Spitting

Choking

Hair pulling

Degradation

Voyeurism

Semi-public

What I will not write:

Incest

Rape / assault

Stalking

Beastiality

Underaged

Piss / scat / vomit

Men

[daisylovesss]

Emerged from purgatory just to say I really want to munch on Ellie’s cunt

[daisylovesss]

Good morning !! My requests are open and I’m itching to hear ideas / write something so stop by and send me something !!

[daisylovesss]

Angel ~ Ellie Williams

Summary: Strip club manager!Ellie x Stripper!Reader ~ Ellie takes a liking to her clubs newest dancer.

Warnings: Smut, strapon sex, oral (reader receiving), use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore,’ midnight ballerina activities.

A/N: Okay this was an idea I had here that a lot of you were super interested and I’ve finally written it! I hope it lives up to everyone’s expectations. Also can I just say crazy prediction by me about the strippers name in Euphoria being Angel (not really but still).

Requested? Yes and no

𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃

Exotica never slept.

Even on slow Tuesdays the bass thrummed low and heavy through the walls, neon lights painting every surface. The air smelled like vanilla body spray, expensive perfume, spilled whiskey, and something darker. Lust, money, desperation, and want. Ellie Williams had managed the club for a little over a year now, and she’d seen every flavor of sin the city could offer. Tits bouncing under strobe lights, asses clapping to the rhythm of whatever song was trending that week, girls grinding on laps for stacks of bills while whispering filthy promises they rarely meant.

She loved it. Hell, she’d been in fucking heaven most nights.

And then you started.

You arrived on a quiet Thursday with wide, sparkling eyes and a shy smile that looked completely out of place in a strip club. You introduced yourself in the dressing room as “just call me Angel… if you want.” Your real name stayed locked away like a secret. You were all soft curves and innocent energy wrapped in bright coloured lingerie, soft pinks, blues, yellows, and lots of delicate white lace. Glitter dusted your collarbones, your eyelids, even the tops of your thighs. Glossy lips in bubblegum pink or strawberry red. Little bows on your thigh-highs. Tiny pleated skirts that flipped up with every spin and showed the curve of your ass like it was gift wrapped.

You danced like you were performing for a dream, not a room full of hungry eyes. Graceful pole work mixed with sweet, teasing floor routines. The customers ate it up. The other dancers liked you because you were polite and didn’t cause drama.

Ellie was completely fucked.

From the very first night you stepped on stage, Ellie found herself drifting out of her back office more often than not. She’d lean against the end of the bar, arms crossed over her chest, dark green eyes locked on your glitter covered body under the lights. She told herself it was just quality control, making sure the new talent was worth the stage time. But the truth was simpler and far more dangerous: Ellie was infatuated.

You noticed the attention almost immediately.

Between sets you’d sit in the dressing room, touching up your makeup while casually asking the veterans, “So… what’s the manager like? Ellie, right? She always watches the stage that intensely?” The other girls would laugh, tease you about the obvious schoolgirl crush, and warn you that Ellie didn’t play around. You’d feel the heat rise to your cheeks and bite your glossy lip, and pretend you were just curious.

You weren’t just curious.

Every time you caught Ellie’s gaze from the bar, heat bloomed low in your belly. Ellie looked at you like she wanted to devour you whole - slow, dark, and unapologetic. It made your performances sharper, your movements more deliberate. You started adding little flourishes just for the woman at the bar. An extra arch of your back, a slower roll of your hips, a coy glance over your shoulder as you slid down the pole.

Tonight, the tension finally snapped.

The club was packed. Bass heavy music vibrated through the floor as your set began. The lights shifted to a dreamy rose and lavender palette that made your lingerie glow. You stepped onto the stage in a completely sheer white babydoll set trimmed with white lace, matching thong, and thigh-highs with tiny satin bows. Glitter sparkled across your skin like fresh snow under club lights. Your glossy lips curved into a sweet, knowing smile the second you spotted Ellie at her usual spot by the bar.

You didn’t look away.

You started slow. Graceful spins on the pole, letting the fabric of your babydoll flutter and reveal even more glimpses of skin. But your eyes stayed locked on Ellie the entire time. When you dropped to the floor and crawled forward on all fours, ass swaying, you made sure Ellie could see every deliberate movement. Then you rolled onto your back, knees falling open just enough, and slid one manicured hand slowly down your body.

Past the swell of your breasts. Over the soft curve of your stomach. Lower.

Your fingers brushed over the front of your thong, pressing against your clit through the thin fabric. You rubbed once, slow and obvious, then again, harder. Your glossy lips parted on a breathy moan you didn’t bother hiding. Your hips rolled up into your own touch, scandalous and far filthier than your usual routines. The crowd cheered, bills raining onto the stage, but you only had eyes for Ellie.

Ellie’s grip tightened on her glass until her knuckles went white. Heat flooded her veins, thick and demanding. She watched every second, how your thighs trembled slightly, how your chest heaved, how that innocent face looked utterly sinful while you touched yourself on stage for her benefit alone.

By the time your set ended, Ellie was burning with need.

She didn’t even wait for the next girl to finish her introduction. Ellie grabbed the intercom mic in the hallway and spoke low and clear into the dressing room speakers.

“Angel. My office. Now.”

You slipped a silky white robe over your outfit and hurried down the dimly lit corridor on slightly unsteady heels. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You could still feel the ghost of your own fingers between your legs, the way Ellie’s dark eyes had devoured you.

The office door was already ajar. You stepped inside and closed it behind you with a soft click.

Ellie was leaning against the front of her desk, arms crossed over her chest. The desk lamp cast warm gold light across her sharp features and the messy papers scattered behind her. Her jaw was tight, green eyes blazing with barely restrained hunger.

“Lock the door,” Ellie ordered, voice low and rough.

You obeyed instantly, fingers trembling a little as you turned the deadbolt.

“Come here.”

You crossed the small space on shaky legs. The second you were within reach, Ellie grabbed you by the waist and spun you around, bending you forward over the desk in one smooth, commanding motion. Papers fluttered to the floor. You gasped as your breasts pressed against the cool wood, ass up and presented.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for weeks,” Ellie growled, yanking the silky robe open and shoving it down your arms. “Parading around in your little pastel shit, batting those eyes at me. And tonight? Touching your cunt on my stage like a needy little slut? You wanted my attention Angel? You’ve got it.”

You whimpered, pushing back against Ellie instinctively. “I-I couldn’t help it. I wanted you to watch me.”

“I watched.” Ellie’s hands roamed possessively, squeezing your ass, sliding up your spine, then yanking the babydoll top down to expose your breasts. “Every second. You’re lucky I didn’t drag you off that stage myself.”

Ellie turned you around and lifted you so you were sitting on the edge of the desk, then dropped to her knees in front of you. She looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your already soaked thong and slowly dragged it down your legs, letting it hang off of one ankle. She spread your thighs wide, exposing your glistening pussy to the warm office air.

“Fuck, look at you,” she murmured, voice rough with want. “So pretty and wet already. All that teasing on stage and this is what you were really craving.”

She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly up your slit, savoring the taste of you. You moaned loudly, one hand flying to her hair as she licked you again, firmer this time, circling your swollen clit with the flat of her tongue. Ellie groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body.

She ate you out like she was starving. Long, deliberate licks followed by tight, focused suction on your clit. Her hands gripped your thighs hard, keeping you spread open while she devoured you. She alternated between flicking her tongue rapidly over your clit and dipping lower to push inside you, fucking you with her tongue until you were trembling and whimpering her name.

“That’s it,” Ellie growled between licks, her voice muffled against your pussy. “Ride my face, Angel. Let me taste how much you need this.”

You couldn’t help but grind against her mouth, hips rolling desperately as pleasure built fast and hot. Ellie slid two fingers inside you, curling them perfectly against your g-spot while her mouth sealed around your clit and sucked hard. The combination was overwhelming. Your thighs started to shake, breath coming in short, broken gasps.

“Come for me,” Ellie demanded, pumping her fingers faster. “Come on my tongue like the needy little whore you are.”

You shattered with a loud cry, orgasm crashing through you. Your pussy clenched around her fingers, flooding her mouth as you came hard. Ellie didn’t stop, she licked you through every pulse and aftershock, drawing out your pleasure until you were whimpering and oversensitive, trying to close your thighs around her head.

Only when you were a trembling, breathless mess did Ellie pull back. Her lips and chin were shiny with your release. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then stood up, green eyes blazing.

She stood over you as she unbuttoned the front of her jeans revealing to you the strap she’d been packing all night. Thick, black silicone secured in a sturdy harness. Your mouth practically watered as she reached into her desk draw and grabbed a bottle of lube. As she shoved her pants down the rest of the way she slicked the toy generously, turning you back around so you were bent over the desk and kicking your heels apart.

“Tell me you want this,” Ellie said, pressing the blunt head of the strap against your soaked entrance, teasing through your slick.

“I want it,” you breathed, voice high and desperate. “Please, Ellie- Fuck me. I’ve been thinking about you every single night.”

That was all Ellie needed.

She thrust in deep in one powerful stroke, burying her entire length inside your tight, wet heat. You cried out sharply, fingers scrambling for purchase on the desk as your walls clenched hard around the intrusion.

“Fuck- So tight,” Ellie groaned, gripping your hips with both hands. She pulled back almost all the way, then slammed back in, setting a brutal, steady rhythm. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the office, mixing with your broken moans and Ellie’s low grunts.

“You feel that?” Ellie panted, leaning over your back so her mouth was right by your ear. “This pussy’s mine now. You can dance for every horny fucker out there, collect your tips, smile all sweet and innocent but this cunt belongs to me. Understand?”

“Yes! Fuck yes, Ellie,” you sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust. Glitter from your skin was smearing onto the desk. Your thighs trembled, knees weak from the intensity.

Ellie fucked you harder, one hand sliding around to rub tight, merciless circles over your swollen clit. The other tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat.

“Come for me, Angel. Let me see you fall apart.”

You shattered with a loud, broken cry. Your orgasm crashed through you, pussy pulsing and gushing around the thick strap. Your legs shook violently, glossy lips open on desperate whimpers as pleasure ripped through every nerve.

Ellie didn’t stop.

She pulled out only long enough to flip you onto your back on the desk, then drove back inside in one smooth thrust. The new angle let her hit even deeper. She practically folded you in half, knees nearly touching your chest, and pounded into you with relentless force. The desk creaked under you. Your tits bounced with every brutal snap of Ellie’s hips, glitter sparkling under the lamp light.

Ellie fucked you hard and deep. Wet slaps echoing every time her hips snapped forward, grunting in pleasure as her clit rubbed against the harness. Ellie gripped your waist, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, pounding you like she owned you. Your tits bounced wildly with every thrust, nipples begging to be sucked.

“Take it, Angel,” Ellie groaned, leaning down to bite one tit, sucking a dark hickey into the soft flesh while she railed you. “This pussy’s so fucking greedy. Squeezing my cock like you never want me to leave.”

Your nails dug into Ellie’s shoulders, legs wrapping around her waist, heels digging into her back. “Harder please! Fuck me harder Ellie!” Your voice was high and sweet and filthy, pussy creaming around the strap, juices soaking the harness and dripping down to her puckered asshole.

“Look at me,” Ellie commanded, voice beginning to strain with her own building pleasure as she gave you what you wanted. “Eyes on me while you come again.”

You obeyed, wide, teary eyes locking onto Ellie’s as another orgasm tore through you. You came even harder this time, back arching off the desk, a sobbing moan spilling from your glossy lips. Ellie fucked you through it, finding her own release with a groan and drawing it out until you were a trembling, overstimulated mess.

Only then did Ellie finally slow, pulling out with a wet sound that made you whimper at the sudden emptiness. Your legs were so wobbly you could barely stand when Ellie helped you up. Your pussy throbbed, aching in the best way, slick coating your inner thighs.

Ellie kissed you then. Rough, possessive, tongue sliding against yours in a way that promised more later. She straightened your lingerie with surprisingly careful hands, fixed the babydoll top, and pulled your panties up your legs before buckling up her own pants.

“Clean up quick,” Ellie murmured against your lips as she kissed you again. “You’ve got private dances starting in ten minutes. And remember-” She slid two fingers under your panties and through your dripping folds, collecting the mess, then pushed them between your lips. You sucked obediently, tasting yourself on Ellie’s skin. “This cunt is mine. Every single night. No matter how many laps you grind on out there. You dance for them. You come for me.”

You nodded dazedly, cheeks hot, makeup slightly smudged, knees still trembling as you slipped your robe back on.

From that night on, it became your secret.

Every shift, you performed like the perfect fantasy. Bright, glittery, teasing, and untouchable to the customers who threw money at your feet. You smiled sweetly, rolled your hips, let them stare. But the moment your set ended and you slipped into Ellie’s office, the innocent Angel disappeared.

Sometimes Ellie would bend you over the desk again and fuck you fast and dirty before sending you back out with a sore, dripping pussy. Other nights she’d make you ride her strap slow and deep while sitting in the office chair, hands gripping your glitter covered hips, whispering filthy praise and ownership until you came so many times you cried. Occasionally Ellie would drop to her knees and eat you out right there on her little couch until your thighs clamped around her head and you screamed.

No matter what, Ellie always sent you back to the floor eventually. Legs shaky, lips kiss swollen, cunt aching and marked in ways only the two of you knew.

And every time you stepped back onto the main floor, Ellie would be leaning against the bar, arms crossed, that same dark, satisfied smirk on her face.

You were hers.

The whole club could watch you dance.

But Ellie owned your cunt.

And that delicious little secret made every single night at Exotica even sweeter.

[daisylovesss]

Okay but Euphoria has inspired me. What do we think of strip club manager!Ellie x stripper!reader ??? Ellie would be in fkn heaven surrounded by titties and ass every night until a new, more innocent, bright eyed girl starts working at the club. She’s all bright coloured lingerie, glitter and glossy lips, goes by the stripper name Princess or Angel. Ellie is infatuated, spends more time out of her office when she’s on stage, watching from the bar with dark, wanting eyes. Angel/Princess has this big kinda school girl crush on Ellie, she can’t help but ask the other dancers about her and one night she finally works up the courage to perform for her. Eyes on Ellie the entire time a cheeky hand sliding down her crotch, much more scandalous than usual as Ellie watches her right back. After her set Ellie calls her into her office, she’s packing because of course she is and just fucks the shit out of her leaving her knees wobbly and pussy aching as she sends her back out for private dances. This becomes their little secret from now on, Ellie basically owns her cunt despite the performances she puts on each night.

Anyways fantasy out the way, would anyone be interested if I wrote this ????

[daisylovesss]

Idk if anyone will yuck my yum but he/him lesbian Ellie Williams. I just need to hump on Ellies packer until I come to relieve some stress 😓💔.

No because Ellie would just let you take itttt 🤤

The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside and Ellie’s steady breathing beneath you.

He was sprawled on the couch in his worn gray sweatpants, legs spread as you straddle him. The thick, firm bulge of his packer pressed up against your core through your panties. Ellie’s hands rested loosely on your hips, not guiding, just holding you there while you rocked.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk as you ground down harder. “Get it all out.”

You clutched at his shoulders, breath hitching with every slow, desperate roll of your hips. The pressure built fast - tight, hot, aching, until the friction against his packer had you trembling and whimpering. Ellie watched you with dark eyes, calm and focused, letting you chase exactly what you needed.

When you finally came with a shaky moan, forehead pressed to his, he just hummed softly and brushed a thumb over your cheek.

“Better?” He asked, voice gentle now.

You nodded, still catching your breath against him.

Ellie smiled, small and crooked. “Good girl.”

[daisylovesss]

absolutely love Ellie brat-taming and spoiling reader while being a selfish dom, like UGH the thought of getting princess treatment and dressing in lingerie just for her to rip it up and pleasure you but doing it for her enjoyment like I would let her do ANYTHING

Stop it I love this so much ! Whilst she loves treating you like a princess it is also entirely self serving. I love the idea of brat tamer Ellie 🤤🤤

[daisylovesss]

part 2 of repent pls🥺🫶

She’s out 🥰

[daisylovesss]

Atone (Repent Pt. 2) ~ Abby Anderson

Summary: Priest!Abby x reader ~ You and Abby stick to your word and meet privately so that you can atone for your sins.

Warnings: Smut, religious themes, strapon sex, inexperienced reader, oral (reader receiving), spanking, references to religious themed homophobia.

A/N: I’m so sorry this one took me so long to get out ! Life got in the way but I hope it was worth the wait !! This is part 2 of Repent, definitely read that first if you haven’t xx

Requested? Yes

𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃

The rectory office smells of old books and polished wood, the faint tang of incense clinging to the air from evening Mass.

The wall clock ticks steadily toward ten o’clock, each second stretching longer than the last. Your heart hammers as you stand outside the door, the thin dress brushing your bare thighs, nothing underneath just like she commanded. The fabric is so light it feels like wearing nothing at all, and every shift of your body reminds you how exposed you arehow ready.

You knock once, barely a tap.

The door swings open immediately, as if she’d been waiting right behind it. Abby towers in the frame, her clerical shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to her elbows, revealing those thick forearms that make your stomach twist. Her braid hangs neat over one shoulder but her eyes, dark and hungry, betray everything.

She doesn’t say a word. Just reaches out, fingers wrapping firm around your wrist and gently leads you inside. The door shuts with a heavy thud, the lock clicking into place like a final vow.

The room is dimly lit by a single desk lamp, casting long shadows across the cluttered oak desk, the bookshelves lined with leather-bound tomes, and the crucifix on the wall that seems to watch everything. Abby steps back, releasing your wrist, and lets her gaze drag over you slowly, from your flushed face down to the hem of your dress, lingering where it clings to your hips.

“You came,” she says, voice low and rough. “And you obeyed. Nothing underneath that pretty little dress.”

She wasn’t asking and couldn’t in any way tell but she knew that you listened.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

A small, wicked smile curves her lips. “Lift it up. Show me.”

Your hands tremble as you gather the fabric, inching it higher, exposing your thighs, then higher still until it’s bunched at your waist. Cool air hits your bare skin, and you feel yourself clench instinctively, already slick from the anticipation that’s been building all day.

Abby’s exhale is audible, almost a growl. She steps closer, one large hand settling on your hip, thumb stroking the soft skin there in slow, possessive circles. “Look at you. Dripping already. Have you been like this since the confessional? Aching and empty, thinking about what I promised?”

“I couldn’t stop,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Every time I moved today, I felt it. Felt where your fingers were. I tried to pray it away, but it only made me want you more. Is that wrong?”

She chuckles darkly, her other hand coming up to cup your chin, tilting your face to meet her eyes. “Wrong? Sweetheart, that’s the point. You’re here to atone, remember? And I’m going to help you. Now turn around. Hands on the desk. Bend over for me.”

You obey, breathing shakily in suspense as your palms press flat against the cool wood, the position arching your back and lifting your ass toward her. Your dress falls forward a bit, but the hem stays rucked up, leaving you completely exposed. Abby moves behind you, her presence a wall of heat and muscle. You hear the faint rustle of fabric,her adjusting her slacks and then her palms settle on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with deliberate slowness.

“Anyone could be listening,” she murmurs, leaning over you until her breath ghosts your ear.

“The housekeeper’s probably still puttering around somewhere. One wrong sound and she’ll come knocking. Or worse, someone from the parish walks by the window and hears you begging your priest to fuck you. Imagine that scandal.”

You whimper softly, shifting your hips. “Please Father - Abby, I don’t care. I need-”

“Shh.” Her palm cracks against your ass sharp, but not too hard, just enough to sting and send heat blooming across your skin. “You’ll care when you’re the talk of the town. But you won’t stop, will you? That’s why you’re here.”

Another slap, this one on the other cheek, and you gasp, pushing back into her touch. “No, I won’t stop. I can’t. Touch me, please. Like yesterday.”

She hums approvingly, her hands spreading you open gently, thumbs tracing your slick folds without dipping in. “So eager. But we’re taking our time tonight. You’ve never been with a woman before, have you?”

You shake your head, cheeks burning. “No. Never. I was taught that women- lust like this- it’s all sin. But with you, it doesn’t feel like sin. It feels right.”

Abby’s laugh is low, almost tender. “Oh, it is sin. The best kind.” Her fingers finally slide through you, gathering your wetness, circling your entrance teasingly. “But I’ll show you. Make you feel every bit of it.”

She pushes two fingers inside you slowly, curling them just right, and you moan into the desk, biting down on your lip to muffle it. She pumps them in and out at a languid pace, stretching you, building the pressure without rushing. Her free hand roams up your back, under the dress, palming your breast and pinching the nipple until you arch further.

“Abby, oh God, that feels- deeper, please.”

“Not yet.” She adds a third finger, the stretch burning perfectly, and you rock back against her hand, desperate for more. She fucks you like that for what feels like forever. Slow, thorough, her thumb occasionally brushing your clit just enough to make you whine but not enough to tip you over.

“You’re taking my fingers so well,” she praises, voice husky. “But I have something better for you tonight. Something to fill you properly.”

You hear her step back slightly, the wet sound of her fingers leaving you making you clench around nothing. There’s a rustle, the soft click of a bottle opening, lube, you realize with a flush of nerves and excitement. You’ve never used anything like this, the idea of it, of her preparing a toy for you, sends a fresh wave of heat between your legs.

“What are you doing?” you ask softly, craning your neck to look over your shoulder.

Abby meets your eyes, fisting the thick silicone cock attached to her harness. It’s bigger than you imagined, veined and realistic, and she squirts a generous amount of clear lube onto it, stroking it slowly with her hand to coat every inch. The sight makes your mouth go dry, her strong fingers wrapping around it, slicking it up deliberately, like she’s savoring the anticipation.

“Lubing it up for you,” she says, voice dark with promise. “You’re tight, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you, not like that, anyway. This is going to stretch you wide. Make you feel full in a way my fingers can’t.”

You bite your lip, nerves fluttering. “Will it fit? Will it feel good?”

She steps closer again, the tip pressing against your entrance, cool and slick. “It’ll fit. And it’ll feel better than good. Trust me. Breathe.”

She pushes in slowly, agonisingly slow, the head breaching you, stretching you open inch by inch. You gasp, fingers digging into the desk, the fullness overwhelming at first, almost too much. But she pauses halfway, one hand stroking your hip soothingly.

“Talk to me,” she murmurs. “How does it feel?”

“Big,” you whimper. “So big. It hurts a little, but don’t stop. Please, Abby, I want all of it.”

She groans softly and sinks in deeper, bottoming out with a roll of her hips that makes you cry out.

“That’s my girl. Taking your priest’s cock like you were made for it.”

After a minute of her slowly rubbing your ass, staying still inside you, she starts moving, slow thrusts at first, letting you adjust, the lube making everything slick and smooth. But soon she picks up pace, hips snapping harder, the desk creaking under the force. Her hands grip your waist, pulling you back to meet every stroke.

“Abby! Fuck, harder, please,” you beg, voice breaking. “I need it. Make me forget everything else.”

She obliges, fucking you relentlessly, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. One hand snakes around to rub your clit in tight circles, and the dual sensation builds fast, coiling tight in your core.

“Come for me,” she growls. “Let me feel it. Scream if you have to. I don’t care who hears.”

You shatter with a choked sob, clenching hard around the toy, waves of pleasure crashing over you. She fucks you through it, drawing it out until you’re trembling and spent, barely holding yourself up.

But she doesn’t stop. She pulls out gently, turns you around with strong hands, and lifts you onto the desk. Your legs dangle, sundress pooled around your waist, and she steps between your thighs, dropping to her knees.

“Abby, wait- I can’t, it’s too much,” you protest weakly, but your body betrays you, hips lifting toward her mouth.

“You can,” she says, voice muffled as she leans in. “And you will. I want to taste how sweet you are after coming on my cock.”

Her tongue licks a slow stripe through you, and you moan, hands fisting in her braid. She eats you out like she’s starving, slow laps at first, savoring, then faster, sucking your clit gently, pushing her tongue inside to chase every drop. You come again quickly, thighs clamping around her head, babbling her name.

She doesn’t let up, bringing you to the edge a third time with ruthless precision, her strong hands holding your hips down as you buck against her face.

“Abby! Father! Please! I can’t take another- oh God-”

“You can,” she murmurs against you. “One more. For me.”

The third orgasm rips through you, leaving you boneless and gasping. Only then does she rise, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, that wicked smile back in place.

She helps you down, straightens your dress with surprisingly gentle hands, and leads you to the door, unlocking it.

“Same time next week,” she says, voice still rough. “We’ll explore more of those sins of yours.”

“Yes Father,” you practically whimper as you follow her trying to steady your legs, Abby just watches you with a smirk.

“Oh, and I’ll be seeing you in the morning at mass, yes?” Abby asks leaning close as she smooths down your hair, moving one hand to hold your chin as she awaits your answer, looking into your glassy eyes.

You’re still breathing heavy as you nod, disappointed at how quickly you’re being ushered out but also being left wanting more.

Your legs are unsteady as you step out with Abby’s hand guiding you by the lower back before she shuts the door, the echo of her touch lingering everywhere.

Tagged: @pepperflakess, @okayyesbutno, @idealisticnumbat, @emmyyyyy777, @xangfs, @tvgirllle

[daisylovesss]

Repent ~ Abby Anderson

Summary: Priest!Abby x reader ~ You attend confession to confess your sins to the one person causing them.

Warnings: Smut, fingering (reader receiving), religious themes, references to religious themed homophobia.

A/N: This atheist had to do her research but phew was it fun. Let me know how you liked it and if you want part two !

Requested? Kinda

𝑅𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒪𝓅𝑒𝓃

The church is almost empty.

Only the red sanctuary lamp glows above the altar, and somewhere far off a sacristy door creaks in the evening draft. Anyone could walk in, Mrs. Delgado finishing her rosary, the janitor making his rounds, a late penitent looking for peace. The thought should terrify you. Instead it pools hot and liquid low in your belly.

You kneel in the confessional, thin sundress already clinging to your back with nervous sweat.

The lattice scrapes open.

For a long moment there is only silence, heavy, expectant, the kind that makes your pulse thunder in your ears.

Then her voice, low and calm, slides through the grille like smoke.

“Begin, child. I’m listening.”

You swallow, clenching your thighs together at the sound of her voice, just like you do at every Sunday morning mass.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been… four weeks since my last confession.”

Another beat of silence. When she speaks again there’s no judgment in it yet, only quiet curiosity laced with something darker.

“Four weeks is a long time to carry something alone. Tell me what weighs on you.”

“I- I have impure thoughts. Constantly. About women. Dreams where they touch me, hold me down, use me. I wake up aching and wet between my thighs and I- I touch myself thinking about it. I try to stop and I can’t. I don’t want to stop. I hate myself for it and it only makes me want it more.”

A soft exhale from the other side, almost inaudible.

“Go on,” she says, voice a fraction rougher. “Be precise. The Church cannot help you if you hide the shape of your sins.”

You press your forehead to your clasped hands exhaling heavily.

“I picture strong hands holding my wrists together. A mouth on me that doesn’t ask permission. Someone bigger than me making me beg. Telling me how wicked I am while they… while they take whatever they want.”

The silence that follows is electric.

When she speaks again it is slower, deliberate, as though tasting every word.

“That is… a very grave matter. Desire for the same sex is a mortal sin, little lamb. Full knowledge. Full consent. And still you kneel here dripping with it, don’t you?”

Your breath catches, confusion and even more arousal stirring in you.

“Answer me,” she says softly.

“Yes, Father,” you whisper.

A faint creak of wood, she’s leaning closer to the lattice.

“Do you ever give that woman in your mind a face?” she asks, almost gently and definitely knowingly. “Perhaps it’s someone much closer to you than you think?”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You can’t answer. Embarrassment and arousal stirring within you.

Another soft sound from her side, half sigh, half laugh, low and knowing.

“I see,” she murmurs. “Then we have much to discuss… and much to atone for.”

The confessional door on her side opens and closes.

A second later yours does too.

She slips inside the narrow box and the air changes, becomes thick, dangerous, alive. The black cassock brushes your bare legs as she steps behind you. She is so much taller, broader; you feel tiny, cornered, deliciously trapped. Your eyes go wide, heart hammering in your chest as you look up at her from your place on your knees.

“Stand up,” she murmurs. “Turn around. Hands flat on the kneeler. Do not make a sound unless I allow it.”

You obey, bent over for her as her presence consumes you, the feel of her body against the back of yours has you dripping even more.

“Anyone could open that door right now,” she whispers against the shell of your ear. “One curious soul and they would see their parish priest with her hands up a penitent’s dress. Imagine the scandal.”

Her palm settles on the small of your back, warm even through cotton. “Stay perfectly still.”

She draws the long olive-wood rosary from around her neck, beads clicking softly, and lets the heavy silver crucifix dangle in front of your face for a moment before she slips it beneath the neckline of your dress.

The cold crucifix slides between your breasts, followed by bead after warm bead until the entire strand is nestled deep in your cleavage, the cross resting just above your racing heart. Every breath drags the wood across sensitive skin.

“Feel them,” she says. “They’ve hung against my chest through every Mass while I have watched you squirm in the pews, thighs pressed tight, pretending to pray. You think I don’t notice what I do to you?”

Her hands move to your hips, gathering the light fabric of your dress, inching it upward until cool air kisses the backs of your thighs. Higher. Until the hem is bunched at your waist and you are bare beneath it, exactly as you hoped she would discover.

The cold air hits your soaked cunt, making you flinch.

A low, dark laugh. “Nothing underneath. You came to confession hoping to be ruined.

Her palm cups the curve of your ass, possessive, testing. Then the rosary moves again. She trails the warm beads down your spine, slow, letting each one kiss your skin before the next follows. When she reaches the swell of your ass she pauses, letting the crucifix rest in the small of your back.

“Spread your feet wider.”

You obey once again, trembling now.

She drags the beads lower, over one cheek, then the other, tracing your smooth skin, teasing, never quite where you need. The wooden spheres are slick now with your sweat and her warmth.

“Listen,” she whispers. “You hear that silence? One creak of the church door and someone will know exactly what kind of woman kneels here. A woman so lost to lust she lets her priest play with her in the house of God.”

Her free hand slips between your thighs from behind, no warning, just two thick fingers sliding through slick folds.

You bite your lip hard to stay quiet.

“Christ, you’re drenched,” she breathes, almost reverent. “This pretty cunt is weeping for the very sin you came to confess.”

She circles your entrance once, twice, then pushes inside, slow, deliberate, stretching you open.

You choke on a whimper.

“Shhh,” she warns, curling her fingers just right, pressing against that spot that makes your knees buckle. “Not a sound. You’ll take your penance silently, or not at all.”

You inhale sharply, biting your lip and nodding your head at your words, desperate to feel her.

Her thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles while her fingers fuck you slow and deep. The rosary beads drag back and forth across your ass with every subtle shift of her wrist, the crucifix tapping lightly against your skin like a metronome counting sins.

“You’ll go home tonight still feeling my hands under your dress,” she murmurs against your ear. “You’ll feel them with every step. And when you try to touch yourself, because you will, you’ll remember my fingers inside you and you will stop. You are not allowed to come until I give permission. Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, tears pricking your eyes from the effort of staying quiet.

“Good girl.”

She adds a third finger, stretching you wider, pumping faster now. The wet sounds fill the tiny space obnoxiously. You’re so close your legs shake.

“Father,” you breathe out as quiet as you can manage, feeling the coil tighten in your belly.

“Not yet,” she growls, slowing deliberately, keeping you teetering on the edge. “You’ll wait until tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. The rectory office. You’ll knock once. You’ll be wearing another dress and still nothing underneath. I’ll lock the door, bend you over my desk, and give you what you’re begging for right now. Only then will you be allowed to come.”

Her fingers still completely, buried deep, thumb resting lightly on your clit, just enough pressure to torment.

“Say it,” she commands.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Ten o’clock. Rectory. Please, Father-”

She withdraws slowly, deliberately, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. The rosary beads slide one last teasing path across your ass before she lifts the strand from your skin, now carrying your scent as well as hers, and loops it back around her own neck. The crucifix settles against her collar once more, gleaming faintly with evidence of your arousal.

She smooths your dress down with calm hands, as though she did not just unravel you completely.

“Tomorrow,” she repeats, voice steady again but thick with promise. “Do not be late. And do not touch what belongs to me until then.”

She steps out of the confessional. The door closes with a soft, final click.

You remain bent over the kneeler, thighs trembling, the phantom press of her fingers and the warm weight of her rosary branded into your skin, the church around you vast and echoing and terrifyingly public.

Tomorrow cannot come soon enough.

Tagged: @emmyyyyy777

[daisylovesss]

Yeah deff make it!! a creator wouldn’t own the concept of Abby as a priest!!

It’s coming today my darling !

[daisylovesss]

ugh I loved your recent fic 😫 ellie acting like eating her pussy is a privilege (it is). I just wanna suffocate in it shwjshhe

Yesssss 😩 She’ll make sure you know how lucky you are to drown in that cunt

[daisylovesss]

Gonna indulge you in one of my Ellie hc but bc of how insecure she is:( she would love being praised not in a appearance way but just knowing she’s making you feel good and she’s going a good job. When she feels comfortable and safe she can be cocky abt it “hell yeah” but it takes a while for her to get there

I loveee this ! When you two first start being intimate with each other she’d definitely be worried she’s not doing enough but a simple “feels so good” or “you fuck me so good” would be such a turn on and ego boost for her. You can tell what it does to her and it’d be something you make sure to do whenever you’re intimate together and when you’ve been together a while is when she’d get cocky, instead of hoping you praise her she’d make you - saying shit like “who’s got you this wet?” and “tell me how good it feels.” Anytime you praise how well she’s making you feel it just fuels her.

[daisylovesss]

Would eat Ellie out till I’m forced to come back up for air😓🙏 Lazily licking her when I’m tired but just keep going till I’m forced to stop - proud munch

If this ain’t me ! Would happily just lay between Ellie’s thighs and drink up every last drop of her until she’s shoving me off. I would fkn use her cunt as a pacifier if I could. Munchers unite ✊🏼

[daisylovesss]

My Ellie headcanons <3

1) Every version of Ellie = loves to scissor, It just feels so intimate

2) don’t gaf abt body hair for her or reader but she chooses not to shave

3) once she’s intimate w someone sexually she opens up more, she wouldn’t sleep w anyone

Yes yes and yes !!

1. 100% !!! She loves how good you can make each other feel with just your bodies, she’d press her forehead against yours as you moan and hold onto her shoulders your hips moving in perfect rhythm, clits bumping against each other and stealing kisses through broken grunts and moans.

2. Fuck no she definitely doesn’t care about body hair !! I personally think she does shave herself but only occasionally, it’s not something she actively maintains but will definitely tidy every now and then. But on her partner ? She wouldn’t even notice if you were shaved or not, all she cares about is devouring you in every way possible.

3. AGREE ! Once she sleeps with someone she’s all in and obsessedddd. She would only sleep with someone she fully trusts and can see a future with. Except for some AU Ellie’s where she’s an absolute slut (which I love equally as much).

[daisylovesss]

Indulge me...

A while ago there was a writer on here who posted like a concept or something on here of Priest!Abby... I'm not normally a slut for Abby buttttttt would anyone be interested if I wrote something on it ? I've been obsessed with this concept for a long ass time and I'm pretty sure this creator has like fell off of this app because she was actually a minor and / or maybe abusive to her gf ?? So ethically I'm more than happy to steal this idea and make it my own thing as long as people are interested 👀

[daisylovesss]

While I'm working on requests send me asks - all your dirty thoughts about our gf Ellie (and anything else). Tell me about kinks, ideas, scenarios you imagine pleaseeeee. I'll never get sick of talking about her and need some more freaky people to indulge in her with.