#abigail anderson

[jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw]

jackson abby photomodes

i’m gonna die if i don’t get to kiss her

[abbyscoochiecruncher]

Something to hold you over <3

[abbysgirl]

rip buff abby you will always be famous

[watermelonshine]

abby anderson x obedient!reader nsfw mdni

cw: degrading name calling, edging, she's lowkey desperate and needy and mean

"Fuck man!"

Abby shuts the door loudly before stomping her way to the couch and falling on top of it, with her arms and legs spread out as she leaned back on it. She kept muttering no one listens, no one ever fucking listens... She had a plan but others disagreed since the last time she had a plan, they had to deal with too many dead bodies.

"What happened dear?"

There you walked in with a curious look on your face, pissing Abby off was easy but not this pissed. Her eyes shot to your figure, you wore a pretty little chemise that made you look like dainty doll. You were always an obedient little thing, Abby never had to repeat herself when it came to you. She needed water, in few seconds there's a glass of water in her hand. She needed someone to massage her shoulder, your hands kneeded the right spot everytime. She wanted someone to clean her shoes from all the blood and god knows what else, you were there with a wet cloth and a shoe polish.

She needed an outlet, you were in your knees unbuckling her pants.

"You'll listen to me right?"

She walked towards you and you grabbed your face. "You'll listen right?", her eyes frantically moving up and down and sideways, looking for even the slightest of hesitation. But she found none, because you immediately smiled and spoke the words she was looking for.

"Yes. I always do."

You always did.

Your back was against the wall as Abby left behind wet kisses all over your naked body in the living room. She didn't want to waste any time to go upstairs, no, she was greedy. You let out soft moans as her fingers linger over your clit.

"A-abby- don't tease please just-"

"You're so wet over some kisses, kitten?"

She knelt down as she took a good look at your gaping cunt. The breath she was letting out hit your sensitive part and oh lord it drove you crazy. You bucked your hips to close the distance between her face and you and she chuckled.

"I'll give it to you, stop acting like a desperate whore."

She picked up one of her legs and put it on her shoulder as she left kisses all over your inner thighs. You were breathing heavily when you grabbed her hair, trying so hard to control yourself. Her kisses started from nears your knees to dangerously close to your pussy and then to your twitching bundle of nerves. Her teeth grazed your clit and you almost lost it. She pulled away as she tapped your other thigh, "Don't."

She won't let you come just yet.

and who were you to not listen to her?

[atyourmerci]

I hope your daddy doesn’t own a gun

Southern dbf!abby

Cw: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, subfem!reader, age gap (r! Is 20, abby is in her 30s), masturbation, phone sex if you squint and turn your head, lil sprinkle of degradation, fingering, voyerism, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: I hate this<3

They all saw you as a child, still just daddy’s little girl in your pigtails and bloomers. Even at twenty, after ditching the pigtails and swapping the bloomers with mini skirts that let your ass peak out, didn’t deter their perception of innocence.

Your father was a wealthy man, charismatic and giving that drew the people around him in. Most of his friends watched you grow from childhood, through the ugly duckling phase, all the boyfriends, and growth of your now womanly figure. Not that they noticed. Not that you cared- other than her, Abigail, your father’s best friend from college. Abigail went on to work at your father’s company after college and frequented your life from birth.

You couldn’t recall when it shifted, when she went from your father’s best friend to a toy dangled in front of your face, so close yet unattainable. Clean cut, dressed in button ups, khakis, the cowboy boots that peaked through the bottom of them. Her hair neatly tied in a braid.

The only time you’d seen it down was when your dad held a backyard rager you snuck out to watch. Most of the party had dissipated late into the night, but you had spotted Abby and one of the receptionists in your pool. You watched as the pretty receptionist lazily dragged the strands out with her fingers as Abigail worked her mouth around her chest.

Thats when the heat in your chest began for her, watching her control. Seeing how she could have anything she wanted. You wanted her to desire you, need you so badly shed take you there, even with the risk of wondering eyes.

-

This night ended as they all did. At the end of the night you’d get sent to your room so they could smoke cigars and speak of vulgarities that you now were more than aware of. For fucks sake you were in college now, getting tossed around by pitiful girls that still couldn’t make you come. Abby would, you knew it.

You’d touch yourself at night to the thought of her for the past couple of years, she’d know how to take care of your needy cunt. You’d think of yourself in the pool that night, how your fingers would dance through her hair. The scent of musky pine still overwhelming your senses even though her skin was bleached of pool water. How her fingers would feel deep inside you, her hand covering your mouth to quiet you.

Your father would kill her.

“Alright hun, why don’t you head to bed,” your father says after a fit of laughter. Everyone continues the comfort, your eyes dart to Abby, who seems to be the only one privy to your father’s prompt.

“Dad don’t you think i’m too old for that now,” you try not to get defensive but it comes out bitchy. He gives you that stern glare, the ‘don’t make me ask you again’ look and you glance back at Abigail who gives you a pitied pout, “be a good girl, listen to your father.”

You huff out, making a scene and storming off. Slamming your bedroom door behind you, infuriated. Pissed at your father for treating you like a child still, pissed at Abigail for backing him up. Pissed that she looked so good tonight, the way she put her hand on your lower back to pass you, whispering a ‘xcuse’ me darlin’. Maybe it was her goal to work you up just to leave you helpless and begging.

Your window has a shot of the backyard, all your father’s friends laughing over cigars and bourbon. Pissed how she called you a good girl, right in front of your father, everyone, knowing the effect it would have on you.

She wanted to tease you, work you up in front of everyone? Then they should all watch what she did, a careless act on both ends.

Throwing yourself on your warm sheets, pulling up your sundress to reveal your bare cunt. Driving your head back into the sheets as your fingers work at the pulsing flesh, so tense from the slow incline Abby had you on all day. Your fingers slid so easily through your folds, pearly white slick coating your harsh fingers.

Your breath panting and eager, so ready to revel in your own pleasure after being ripped from it. You’re already close, feeling your stomach tighten in anticipation as you feel your phone buzz at your side. ‘Abigail Anderson’ illuminates your face, without giving yourself a chance to catch your breath you answer.

“Don’t you dare think of coming,” Abby says sternly. Your face flushes, fuck. You peer your weary eyes at the window next to your body, Abby stands a couple feet away from the men, staring dead at you through the glass.

“Wha-“ you pant out, staring dumbly at the woman that never gave you this extent of her control. Your head drops back down onto your pillow, too embarrassed to admit your shameful actions.

“I didnt tell you to stop, did I sweetheart?” Abby says with smugness in her tone.

“N- no ma’am,” giving into her so easily, running your hand down your body to meet back at your sopping cunt that buzzes at her words. “Good girl… you like that, don’t you?” She says doubling down- so fucking sure of her power over you, your mind, your cunt.

“Yes Abby- yes! please Im so close,” you bite down on your lip for relief, your hole clenches over nothing, fingers eagerly tracing circles around your swollen bud. Any moment you’d break, heels digging into your frilly sheets as your chest soaks with sweat. You hear the line go flat on your phone.

You were too fucked to stop, you were going to let yourself have this. Gripping into the sheets you prepare yourself, legs shaking as your door swings open to Abigail. Your legs wide open for her eyes to feast on, she takes a moment to gawk at the sight before locking the door behind her.

She walks over to the head of your bed, unbuttoning her shirt as she watches you drive lazy motions over your clit. She discards her shirt to the side, revealing her bare chest. Climbing so slowly up to you she places her hand on your sloppy cunt, cupping it as her other hand covers your mouth, “Don’t make a sound and I’ll let you come.”

Wild eyed you nod your head, letting her run her thick fingers down the slit of your cunt to collect your release. The smell of pine thick in the air, the sound of her fingers dragging in and out of you the only peep to be heard.

“you think about this all the time don’t you darlin? Turned into a nasty little girl, didn’t ya.” Abby begins to pick up her pace, fingers sliding in so easily. Your eyes roll back, mind going numb.

“Tight little cunt you got, swallowing my fucking fingers,” you try not to scream out, but her unrelenting pace at your hole was getting to be too much. The feeling of spilling over hitting you once again. Your screams are muffled by her meaty hands, but she can feel your pulse around her.

“You gonna come baby?” Abby coos, looking at you pitied and cruel. You shake what motion you still had left in your head.

“Be quiet so your daddy doesn’t hear what a whore his little girl is,” she laughs at how pathetic you are, all from just her fingers.

like that you’re set off, squirming under her heat as she fucks your pussy through it, watching you opened mouth panting as your head pushes into your plush pillows. Biting into the flesh of her palm cant block off the guttural scream you let out. She pushes down harder at your mouth but only pushes her fingers deeper. Every last drop she was going to get out of you.

Thats when you hear the ring of a jiggle on your locked doorknob.

[aelxnox]

MORNINGS WITH YOU

warning: fingering, lazy morning sex, finger sucking, squirting, hickeys, breast sucking. @abbyandersons-wifey my wife

The sunlight that seeped from the curtains shone on Abby's face that made her eyes flutter open. She looked around, eyes searching the room until her gaze landed on you.

You were sleeping next to her, your body tilted and facing her. Abby's lips quirked into a smile. You looked so peaceful. Like you were sleeping on cloud nine. Like the sun and moon collided to make a star that shines brighter than everyone.

Abby layed on her side and scooted closer to push a strand of hair behind your ear. Her eyes studied your face. She grinned at the way your pouty lips are parted, the way your lashes decorate your eyelids, and your cheek that's squished from being pushed into the pillow.

Her hand travelled down to your neck, then to your bare arm where she traced soft lines with her fingertips.

It made you shiver, the feeling of her nails tickling your skin. But what made you awaken was the million kisses she placed all over your face.

You opened your eyes to be met with Abby's face mere inches from yours. She looked down, that smile she had a while ago appearing once again on her beautiful face.

"Good morning." she greeted you. Her voice soft, gentle like the morning wind outside. "Morning." you greeted her back with an even bigger smile and a much softer tone.

You could feel Abby's gaze burn your skin and you looked up to follow where her eyes was looking.

Your bare thighs. Your heat that was barely covered by the thong you wore from the intense temperature last night.

You bit your lip and tilted your head to meet Abby's hungry eyes. Your thighs clenching at the way she's staring down at you. Like she wants to eat you whole.

"What?" you whispered. Abby's lips smirked, her hand that was resting on your shoulder travelling down to your bare ass where she gave a firm squeeze.

Your breath hitched, your mouth parting when she dipped her fingers in the swell of your ass. Abby bit her lip at your expression, her own pussy starting to get soaked.

She leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue immediately delving into your mouth to search.

"Hmm.." you moaned as your tongues danced together, your hand flying up to tangle your fingers in her blonde hair.

You swung your leg over her waist, Abby's knee pushing into your pussy that made your body twitch. "Hngh!" you moaned into the kiss, her bare knee starting to rub your clothed, soaked pussy through your panties in a slow motion.

"Yeah.. let me hear your pretty moans, baby." she whispered into the kiss. You nodded, letting yourself moan louder.

Abby grinned and pushed your tank top above your tits, her fingers finding your nipple to twist and tug on.

"Ahh! Hmm.. Abby." you whimpered and pulled away from the kiss, Abby's eyes following the string of saliva that connected your mouths.

She looked up at you with her bottom lip caught in her teeth, her chest heaving as her heart started to beat faster. "Yeah?" she breathed out.

"I love you." you whispered and grinded on your hips on her knee as you tried to get more friction. Abby chuckled at your eagerness, her knee moving away.

"What- ah!" you gasped when Abby's fingers ran through your folds, your eyes shutting when you finally felt the warmth of her digits caressing your sensitive clit. "H-hngh.. ahh, Abby." you whined.

Abby leaned down to latch on your nipple, her tongue teasing the bud and her teeth softly biting and pulling at it that made you arch your chest into her. "Y-yes.. haa, hmm."

Her middle and ring finger slowly pushed into your hole, your eyes rolling back at the stretch. You lifted your leg up to welcome her thick fingers, your mouth ajar when she pushed the entire lengths of her fingers into your clenching pussy.

"Oh.. ahnn, fuck.." you softly moaned, Abby's fingers starting to thrust into your pussy that made squelching noises.

She let go of your nipple with a pop, her lips finding your neck to suckbruising marks on your skin while she fucks into your hole.

Your neck craned to give her more access, your body stuttering when you felt a familiar knot in your stomach. Your pussy started to clench around Abby's fingers, your eyes are now closed shut while she thrusted into you slowly.

"Abby.. hnghh, I-I'm cumming.." you moaned. "I know, baby, I know. Cum for me, yeah?" she cooed against your skin. You nodded and wrapped your leg around her waist, her pace never changing.

"Fuck, Abby.. Ahh! Hnghh, hmmpff." you cried out, your back arching and legs trembling when you squirted around Abby's fingers.

You held onto her muscular shoulder and hid your face in the crook of her neck as you created a mess on her thighs and the sheets.

Abby continued to curl her fingers against your walls to help you ride out your high. You tried to steady your breathing, your cheeks reddened and eyes dazed when you looked up at Abby.

"S-stop.." you choked out. Abby smiled and slowly pulled her fingers out of your spent hole, your face contorting when her digits slid out.

"You did so well, baby." she whispered and placed kisses all over your face.

She brought her hand to her lips and tilted your chin to make you watch as she sucked and licked on her cum-coated fingers.

"Hmm, so good." she chuckled and licked a bold stripe on her fingers. "Stop that! You're disgusting." you groaned and shoved her face away.

"Ehh.. you love me."

[ggutpunch]

Cute pouty Abbyyyyyy

[aouiaa]

oneshot preview

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄’𝐒

❝ A WAVE OF EMOTION ❞

NOT JUST ANYONE’S, never truly understanding why your boss, dr. abigail “abby” anderson, harbors such animosity towards you. that is, until a moment initiated by the arrival of a newcomer to the team inadvertently triggers suppressed emotions to surface, revealing her true feelings.

FEATURING doctor!abby anderson x nurse!reader

THE ONESHOT CONTAINS (enemies to lovers), porn w plot (yay), a word count of 15k+, wlw content, mean!abby, jealous/delusional!abby, mentions of reader’s hair, abby being a book wormy, abby describes the reader as a goddess (once), fluff, angst, different povs, bullying, light workplace mistreatment, SEXUAL CONTENT, mean/softdom!abby, sub!reader, semi-public sex (hospital’s office), panties stealing, spanking, cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, masturbation, usage of a vibrator (once), scissoring, squirting, nipple play, degradation, body workship/praising, overstimulation, usage of pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, good girl, dirty girl), cum eating, mutiple orgasms, DARK CONTENT, stalking, act of stealing narcotics, cursing, jealousy, alcohol/drug consumption, mentions of inflicting harm on others, acts of frame-up, (none of the content shown here is encouraged to be done irl and the photo below are for aesthetic purposes)

❝ CRASHING ONTO YOU AND I ❞

[absdollievu]

On Her Watch

Stalker!abby x Reader

Warnings: dark romance, strap usage, sesbian lex,

This is just straight up filth

Part 2!!!!

Something’s… off.

Not wrong. Not yet. Just off.

You can’t pinpoint when it starts, exactly—but it lingers in the edges of your thoughts like a breeze through a cracked door. A quiet unease that builds in silence.

It’s little things.

You stop by Abby’s apartment one afternoon—unannounced. The door’s unlocked. You step inside, calling her name, and she answers from the shower.

You don’t mean to snoop. But your eyes drift.

Her bookshelf. Your photo. Tucked behind a stack of notebooks. A selfie you barely remember taking, blurry and lit by dorm lights—only… you never sent that photo to her. You didn’t post it.

A chill runs down your spine.

In her kitchen drawer, there’s a receipt. A bar you were at two nights ago. She said she was busy.

In her trash—your old coffee cup. From two weeks ago. With your name written in your handwriting.

You say nothing. You leave. Smile when she texts. You go on like nothing’s wrong.

But it gnaws at you.

Because underneath the shock, the unease, the wrongness of it all… is something else. Something low and quiet and thrilling.

You’ve felt her watching before. Those nights your window rattled and your skin prickled with awareness. The weight of a gaze you couldn’t place.

And now you think… maybe it was her.

You should be afraid. You know that.

But you’re not.

Not really.

You’re… curious.

⸻

The next time she touches you, she’s gentler. Like she knows she’s being watched, too.

You let her undress you slowly, reverently, on her bed. Let her mouth trace patterns down your ribs, your hips, your thighs. You watch her this time—how her eyes drink you in like she’s memorizing every inch.

You start to wonder what she’s seen.

What she knows.

And the thought makes you wet.

⸻

It becomes a game.

You don’t confront her. Not directly. You’re not ready for that yet.

But you test her.

You leave your blinds cracked a little more than usual. Sleep in thinner shirts. Stretch in front of your window longer than necessary.

Nothing happens.

Until one night.

You come home late. Alone. The night air buzzes against your bare legs as you climb the stairs. You’re exhausted—but keyed up. Nervous.

Your room is dim, lit only by the streetlight outside.

You know Abby’s apartment is down the block. You know she can see your window from that rooftop she sometimes sits on.

And so—without fully thinking—you undress.

Slowly.

You drop your shirt first. No bra. Then your pants. The streetlight flickers slightly, enough for you to feel on display.

Your chest rises and falls as you turn toward the window, fully bare.

You pause.

And you wait.

At first, nothing. Just silence. Stillness. Your pulse thudding in your throat.

Then—movement.

A shadow. A flicker. A shape across the rooftop.

You don’t squint. Don’t move closer. You know it’s her.

You feel the heat of her gaze like a hand on your bare skin.

Your breath catches. Your thighs press together instinctively.

And then—you smile.

Just a little. Just enough.

You step closer to the window. Drag your fingers slowly up your belly. To your breast.

You watch your own reflection, hazy and hungry.

You part your lips.

Touch yourself—just enough to tease. A lazy, indulgent graze of your fingers. You don’t even close your eyes.

And somewhere across the way, Abby’s hands are clenched tight at her sides. Her chest heaving. Watching. Unmoving. Devouring.

You slip into bed without finishing.

Leave your window open.

And you sleep better than you have in weeks.

⸻

The next day, she shows up at your door.

Doesn’t knock. Just waits. Like she knows you were expecting her.

Her eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. Her jaw clenched, shoulders tense.

You let her in without a word.

You both stand in the middle of your room, the silence between you thick with the weight of everything unspoken.

And then, finally—she snaps.

“I saw you,” she says, low and hoarse.

You nod. “I know.”

Her jaw tightens. “You did that on purpose.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted me to see.”

You step forward—closer. So close you can feel the heat rolling off her skin. “What would you have done if I asked you to come in?”

She’s breathing harder now. Her hands clench at her sides. “I would’ve… I don’t know.”

“You do,” you whisper. “You do know.”

Silence.

And then—her hand grabs your waist. Rough. Desperate. Her mouth crashes into yours like a dam breaking.

You gasp into the kiss. Her hands are everywhere—your back, your hips, your throat. She lifts you like you weigh nothing and presses you into the wall, mouth devouring yours with barely restrained need.

Your legs wrap around her instinctively. You grind against her, gasping when her thigh presses between your legs.

“You’ve been watching me,” you breathe. “All this time.”

Her eyes flicker—guilt, shame, hunger. “Yeah.”

“And you liked it.”

A growl in her throat. “I loved it.”

You shudder. “Then show me.”

She drops you onto the bed. Pulls your clothes off like they’re burning her fingers.

“Let me look,” she murmurs. “Just let me look at you.”

You spread yourself open, unashamed. Watching her now—her flushed cheeks, trembling fingers, how her pupils are blown wide with lust and reverence.

She kneels between your thighs. And when she puts her mouth on you—slow, tender, then rough—every thought flies from your head.

She consumes you.

And when you come, you say her name like a confession.

Your hips collapse back onto the mattress, legs trembling, chest heaving, the aftershocks still fluttering in your thighs. Abby’s face is still between them, lips wet, jaw tight.

You start to exhale, the kind of breath you only take when you’re sure it’s over—

But then you hear her voice. Low. Firm. Possessive.

“Nuh uh,” she says low, dragging her mouth up the inside of your thigh. “I’m not done, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flips.

Before you can respond, her hands are on your hips, flipping you onto your stomach like it’s nothing. You let out a startled gasp, face pressing into the sheets, the air sharp against your damp skin.

You feel her move behind you. Slipping off her pants. Knees spreading yours wider. The heat of her body, the strength in her grip.

And then—

You feel it.

The press of something thick and solid between your thighs.

You twist to look over your shoulder, heart thudding. Abby’s gaze locks with yours, dark and feral.

She’s wearing a harness. A thick, matte black strap-on already slick with lube, the base pressed snug to her pelvis. The strap nestles right up against her clit—every grind, every thrust, bound to rub her just right.

You blink, stunned. “You were wearing that the whole time?”

Abby smirks. “You think I climbed up to your window without a plan?”

And then—she pushes in.

Slow at first. Letting you feel every inch. The stretch is deep, full, burning in the most perfect way. You groan into the mattress, one hand fisting in the sheets as your body arches back to meet her.

She’s breathing hard now, panting softly above you, her hands splayed across your back, grounding herself.

“Fuck,” she groans, hips grinding in. The strap rubs against her clit with every motion, and her voice is thick with strain. “I swear I can feel you, baby

.”

You can hear it—her desperation. The control she’s clinging to by a thread.

She starts to move. Deep, rhythmic thrusts. Not rough, not yet—just hard enough to keep you on edge. Her skin slaps against the backs of your thighs. Every grind of her hips sends a whimper crawling out of your throat.

You rock back into her, hungry for it. “Abby…”

“Say my name again,” she growls, voice almost breaking. “Say it when I fuck you.”

“Abby,” you gasp, arching into the next thrust. “Abby—Abby, please—”

Her hand slips under you, fingers stroking your clit in perfect time with the rhythm of her hips. Your thighs quake. Your body starts to fold into it, dizzy and flushed and floating.

And behind you, Abby’s moaning, losing it—her hips stuttering, movements getting sloppier as the base of the strap grinds harder against her soaked clit.

She’s so close. You can feel it in her grip, her breath, her unfiltered noises—this isn’t just for you anymore. She’s fucking herself with you. Through you.

You both fall apart at once.

You clench around the strap with a cry, stars bursting behind your eyes, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Abby lets out a guttural, choked groan, grinding deep as her body tenses. You hear her panting, stammering through her orgasm, hips jerking in time with yours.

You both go still.

Sweaty. Shaking. Twined together in silence.

And then she collapses forward, her chest on your back, lips brushing your shoulder. You feel the tremor still buzzing through her.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, half-drunk on the high, voice hoarse. “You understand that now?”

And all you can do is nod frantically, cheek pressed to the pillow, drooling, and heart still racing.

Because yes.

Yes, you do.

⸻

a/n: alright this is just crazy. Send more reqs!!

[jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw]

clingy!abby who sets an alarm 5 minutes early before work so she can snuggle before she leaves

clingy!abby always sitting on the same side of the booth as you when you go out to eat

clingy!abby always wrapped around you from behind, her head on your shoulder

clingy!abby who’s hand is always in your lap

clingy!abby pressing kisses to your temple whenever you’re around other people

clingy!abby who always wants to just go home and cuddle

clingy!abby sipping from your straw and sneaking food off your plate

clingy!abby living in an “i ❤️ my gf” shirt

clingy!abby playing with your hair and telling you how beautiful you are

clingy!abby always pulling you into her lap, tangling your legs together

clingy!abby always knowing what you need before you even have to ask

clingy!abby stopping by to see you on your break and bring you lunch (with a little note slipped inside)

[jordendefender]

[abbysgirl]

you see a woman sitting with a manspread like this and you decide to make her canonically heterosexual? right…

[abbyscoins]

something overwhelming, something everlasting

pairing: WLF!Abby x f!reader

content & warnings: unintentional trespasser reader turned WLF, canonical violence, slow burn romance, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, no reader description, character death, smut (18+) (to be updated)

men + minors dni

summary: after months of fending for yourself along with your companion, you end up in the middle of a brutal attack, leaving you alone, helpless and bleeding out. you just about accepted your fate, until a group showed up, and the next thing you knew, you were hurtling towards a medical tent being carried in a pair of strong arms. in the midst of navigating a whole new life, things seem to be taking a while to work themselves out...

chapter rundown: gore typical of tlou, panic attacks, reader in discomfort basically the whole chapter sorry... we're getting set up here!

chapter summary: you don't remember much from the attack. just faint images, yelling, and eventually being rushed around and hooked up to machines. sometimes parts come back to you, but mostly you're trying to shove the memory as far away from your consciousness as possible. this place in seattle had taken you in, without much friendly reception, but you were appreciative, nonetheless. settling in was more difficult than you would have liked.

word count: 3.25k

Chapter One: A tough time settling in

It wasn’t until you had slammed the door shut, thrown your pack down, and fallen onto your bed that you started bawling. Big, breathy sobs coming in quick succession from deep in your core, the afternoon of tension finally spilling over and releasing itself from your body. Rain tapped heavily on your window, mimicking the hot tears running down your face, almost mocking your state as you laid back, face screwed up in unbridled discomfort.

You hadn’t felt this upset or anxious in days. Things had been getting better here in Seattle, or so you’d tried to convince yourself. Once you had received your work assignment, you had been befriended by another member of kitchen staff, Polly, albeit quite intensely. She was nearing elderly, strands of greying dark curls sprouting wildly from her scalp, mother-like in her tendency to coddle, and she took you under her wing.

‘That poor lost lamb,’ she had muttered to herself under her breath when she first saw you timidly shuffle in through those squeaky double doors of the mess hall.

‘Hey, you there!’ She scurried over.

‘C’mere. Lemme get a good look at ya,’ She had taken you by the shoulders and pulled you gently round so that the fluorescents were lighting your sullen features. You hadn’t quite known how to react, not enjoying being touched, tense and weary, but something about her demeanour seemed so harmless that you couldn’t protest. Not that you would’ve, back then – you were too overwhelmed to say one word out of line for the first few weeks– only mumbling in short, direct answers when spoken to.

‘There, now,’ She squinted her hazel eyes, crowsfeet deepening, appraising you. Your eyes went wide with confusion, darting from hers to the door, back to her, then to the floor, highly uncomfortable.

‘Yep, just as I thought!’ She beamed with pride, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket of her apron. She pulled out a tape measure, but as she went to touch you again, she noticed you flinch. She paused, seemingly collecting herself with a short, chesty laugh.

‘Ah, sorry, darlin’… Ol’ Polly’s always getting ahead of herself. I’m not gonna hurt ya. Just seein’ what— or who I’m workin’ with.’  You found it odd, but she was not exactly off-putting. You thought it weird she needed to analyse you just because you were working together, she’d have plenty of time to see you during meal prep hours over the next however many months. You assumed the tape measure was for your uniform. She most likely didn’t know that the lady who told you of your assignment also brought you a pile of ill-fitting work clothes. Plain black t-shirts and baggy cargos, some hairnets and caps, as well as a few stained aprons adorned with varying degrees of obnoxious patterns.

‘It’s okay,’ you offered, attempting a small smile, gently stepping back a pace and wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling vulnerable. She perked up again, returning your gesture with a gummy smile of her own.

Since then, you had gotten used to her forwardness. As days, and then weeks went by, you warmed up to her unusual personality. She loosely reminded you of someone, someone you’d rather not think too deeply about for fear of cracking straight down the middle, but the vague resemblance in temperament lingered in the back of your mind. She was attentive in your training, insisting on being the one to guide you in most things, praising you when you did well, and then tutting fondly at your mistakes before snapping the directions at you one more time.

One afternoon, after the lunch rush, you had been collecting and stacking dirty trays by the basins when Polly called you over.

‘C’mere, duck. Got somethin’ for ya,’ She reached into her apron pocket and produced a set of tiny hairclips in three different shades of blue.

‘Noticed ya hair gets in ya face after a long shift. Thought these might be of use to ya,’ She handed the row of clips to you. You looked closer at them.

‘Thank you, Polly. These are… really cute,’ You smiled at her. You knew you would wear them when she would be around to see, heart warmed just to have been thought of, but they were not exactly something you would usually choose to wear. You felt a pang of something painful in your chest. Having someone take care of you again – notice things about you, as small as wisps of hair getting in your eyes – it was a strange feeling. You thanked her again, tucking the clips into your apron pocket and patting the indent where they lay, smiling softly. You were touched by the sentiment, and hopeful that you were taking steps towards feeling more like yourself, again.

‘So, Polly definitely made you her new little project, huh?’

‘…Excuse me?’ you questioned, immediately uncomfortable with the sudden interaction at the dining table. It was your day off, and you didn’t usually eat in the mess hall; you preferred to take your meal away to a quiet spot outside and eat in peace. But today, you had decided to sit at a table indoors.

It was raining out, and you had been feeling like isolating maybe wasn’t the best way to move forward here. So, even if you didn’t talk to anyone, sitting in the busy hall would make you feel closer to being part of a community. Despite your desire to just wrap your food in a napkin and take it up to your room, you took a breath and sat a little way down from another group of people, eating and chatting loudly amongst themselves.

The man who accosted you looked vaguely familiar, you thought he was one of the men who brought you here. Scanning a quick look over at his friends confirmed this memory, noticing the tall man with dark features who had helped lift you from the roadside, smirking at the two of you in amusement.

‘Let the newbie eat her burrito, man,’ He chuckled, an accent lacing his words.

The girl was also there. Your heart made an irregular beat when your eyes landed on her; she had an intriguing physicality that made you want to stare. Her face had a young essence, soft eyebrows knitted together in a seemingly permanent scowl of concentration, her light eyes cast down, a soft pout playing on her lips as she scooped up another spoonful of rice and beans. Yes – her face looked sweet – almost innocent in certain lighting. However, she was impressively built, significantly more muscular than most of the men sat around her. Her frame was broad, intimidating, her grey tank top hanging onto her rounded shoulders, like the silks on a Greek marble statue. You recognised her dirty blonde hair pulled back into a neat braid that fell down her back.

She felt you staring, a burning sensation on her skin, and she looked up at you, unsmiling, curious. You quickly looked away, realising you had spent too long appraising her. You chided yourself in your mind. You recalled, then, her imposing figure towering over you, backlit by white sky, her braid falling over her shoulder, expression contorted with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, overcome with dizziness from the blood loss.

‘Y’know,’ The man closest beside you started again, chewing obnoxiously as he spoke, gesturing to you with an outstretched hand. He reached over to lightly tap at the clip in your hair with a finger. ‘Her pet. Her newest plaything—’

‘Jordan, knock it off.’ The girl spoke lowly, not looking at you, but rolling her eyes at the man. He put his hands up in defence.

‘I’m just sayin’, Abby. That lady always does this with the newcomers. Always! Her weird little trinkets, I’m telling you,’

‘No one cares about your conspiracy theories, man.’ The guy with the accent responded, nudging the girl in jest, earning no response from her.

‘What’s got you all stone-faced, Abs?’ He questioned, less enthusiastic now, feigning offence at her not joining him in his teasing.

‘Nothing. You guys are just driving me crazy today.’ She mumbled, sighing and rolling her shoulders, then turning her focus back to her plate. The dark-featured man shrugged off her attitude and continued eating, himself.

No more was said to you, the group seemingly forgetting your existence at the table with rapid speed. All except one, the girl they called Abby, who spared a couple of quick glances over at you during the next ten minutes while you cowered in your seat. You took pathetic little bites of your food, having lost your appetite, as well as any yearning you may have been accumulating for human interaction. This wasn’t like you. For something so juvenile to affect you like this. But you were exhausted. You were hurting. All the suffering over the last few weeks, not just the mourning, but being the new girl somewhere again. It was all too much; you could never have predicted things would go this way.

You began to feel overwhelmed, and a pressure began building in your chest. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t want to cry or panic in front of so many people. So, you sat, ridged, breathing heavily for a moment, staring down at your hands. A couple of people sitting closest to you hushed, noticing your change in breathing and started looking at you. This caught on quickly.

You heard the girl’s voice mutter, ‘Manny,’ as she elbowed the man next to her, his billowing laugh subsiding as he followed Abby’s concerned gaze. He frowned for a moment.

‘Qué pasa, cariño? You okay?’ He asked, an edge of genuine worry in his voice. You looked up at him, eyes wide, hands clammy and shaking as you rushed a nod and stood up. You clumsily grabbed your tray and pack, throwing your food in the trash as you speed-walked out of the cafeteria and through the halls to the stairs, tears already threatening to escape.

You refused until you were in the confines of your room, only then would you cry.

The next morning, your eyes stung as you slowly came into consciousness, distant sounds of birds chirping indicating the early hour. You rubbed your eyes, sighing deeply and stretching your stiff limbs out, star-fishing as wide as was possible in your cramped bunk. You slept surprisingly well, the day before having knocked you into the deepest sleep you’d managed to get in a long time. Usually, your sleep was light, restless, peppered with bad dreams. You’ve had a few night terrors since being here; the same dream in all of them.

You’re crouched behind a moss-ridden brick wall, shallow breaths coming quick, panic setting in. You catch their glinting eyes from across the opening, their expression mirroring the same bewilderment as your own. You had both heard the whistle, both seen the three of them bounding in through the gap in the fence, bows loaded, intense eyes transfixed in your direction. Shit. You weren’t sure what was going on, brain fuzzy with exhaustion – when you had reached this part of town, you’d began seeing some strange things that made you think better of settling down here to rest – but if you were tired, then God knows how your best friend felt.

Their death was always different. Whether they got shot through the eye, smashed in the skull with a hammer, one time they even got their neck broken, the light leaving their eyes as you gasped and wailed. Whichever way it was, they always died – brutally – and you were left, slumped down, blood blooming through your t-shirt around the arrow in your abdomen, watching, helpless.

You wake before the gunshots commence. Always before – if they were ever even going to come — completely alone.

You screamed yourself awake from those ones, soaked in sweat, tears streaming down your face, breathless. Oddly enough, those nightmares always come when you’re more relaxed before you sleep; your subconscious punishing you for momentarily letting the guilt subside to just slightly less than unbearable.

Despite your decent rest last night, your body still felt tired. However, crying yourself to sleep was strangely cathartic, and your heart felt lighter, today. You sat yourself up on your elbows, looking around your small room. Sunlight trickled in through the cracked blinds, casting shadows over the hardwood floors. You knew that people gossiped about how you ended up with your own room. Most people have to share a bigger room, but your nightmares were disturbing enough that your first roommate had complained so much about not getting enough sleep for training within the first week, that you were begrudgingly moved to a newly empty single unit. Apparently, it had belonged to a soldier who had recently, and unfortunately, met their fate against a ‘Scar’, as they called them, out on patrol.

‘Everyone gets nightmares. Who does she think she is? The queen of fuckin’ England? I’ve been here years, and I haven’t gotten half the privilege she has.’

Issac didn’t often react kindly to stragglers, so most people hadn’t the faintest idea why he was being so lenient, nor why the group of patrollers who found you had taken such pity on you, enough to haul you back across town to the medics and have them fix you up. You remember the faintest fragments of conversation while you were in and out of consciousness, lying up against the concrete, hand weakly holding the arrow piercing through you… A woman and a man arguing, one of the other men telling them to stop, a crash, and then the next thing you knew you were in a truck. Throttling around, sprawled across the laps of a couple of them, being held still as to not further injure yourself in your haze.

The gossip never really bothered you much; you had more dire issues to occupy your mind with. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and checked the time on your alarm clock: 7:35. You stood, making your way over to the kitchenette, stretching as you went. You decided you were going to grab some water, get changed and then head down to the mess hall. You had one more day off today; they had kept you on early shifts for a streak of days last week, which meant a 3AM call time to start making breakfast for the crews headed out early. That would have been fine, had you not had to cover your sick coworker’s lunch shifts, too. So, you were scheduled a couple days off to compensate.

It was bustling when you got down there, everyone clambering in line ready for their breakfast. You took one look at the crowd and turned right back around. Breakfast could wait. It’s served until 9:30 anyways, and you weren’t in the mood to be around that many people yet. Instead, you made your way to the gym. Running was your favourite way to release all the frustration that built up inside you. It reminded you that you have a functioning body, lungs that work, limbs that move, and that you’re grateful for it. Bitter about every other aspect of this life, but grateful to move freely through it, nonetheless. You preferred using the track – the fresh air always stinging so sweetly in your lungs as you made your laps – but you had to make do with the treadmill today, given the recent spell of bad weather flooding the track grounds.

The gym was quiet, most people having already gotten their early workout in before breakfast. You put your canteen down, stepping onto the treadmill, immediately frowning at the buttons in front of you. You cursed the rain for forcing you to face your technological ignorance head-on. You fiddled with the settings, thinking you set it up right, but the button to start the machine wasn’t working when you pressed it. You repeatedly slammed on the button, face contorted into a frustrated scowl, sighing deeply.

‘Might help if you actually turned the thing on,’ A smooth voice startled you from behind. You jumped and turned to see her – Abby – with a faint, teasing smirk on her face as she made her way around the machine. She placed a steady hand right next to yours on the treadmill for support as she leaned down and flicked a switch on the underside of the panel. The machine whirred to life. Her finger brushed yours as she pulled herself back up, and the soft touch sent an unexpected shiver through you. ‘Gotta conserve power, and all that. They ask that you keep things off when you’re not using ‘em.’

‘Oh… right, uh, thanks,’ You managed to say, your cheeks heating up. You were mentally facepalming as she nodded a you’re welcome, a slight mischief playing on her face as if she wanted to tease you for being incompetent, but not knowing you well enough to do so, for fear of coming across as rude or upsetting you. ‘Yeah, as you can tell I don’t usually come in here.’ You admit, looking away. Her presence was intense, keeping eye contact for too long would only make your blush worsen.

‘Hey, it’s all good. Everyone starts somewhere, right? If you tossed me an apron and told me to scrounge up a meal for hundreds of people, I’d be lost,’ She offered a small smile, and you let out a chuckle in response, looking her in the eye again for a moment and holding her stare. An awkward silence fell over you both.

‘You having a good workout?’ You asked, scanning the rest of the gym again, for the first time observing the different contraptions set up around the place. The frown returned to your face imagining trying to use any of it. Abby breathed heavily out of her nose in amusement at your expression.

‘Yeah, I’m just about done,’ She instinctively squeezed her arm around the bicep, briefly massaging the muscle. Your eyes wandered to her hand. There was a sheen to her skin where she had been sweating, her pale freckled shoulders out again, just like yesterday. You tried not to stare. Another beat of silence.

‘Look – I’m… I’m sorry you’ve been having a tough time settling in,’ She paused, seemingly having trouble knowing the right words to say to you. You shot your eyes back up to her face, surprised. The blush returned momentarily to your cheeks.

‘Noticed that, huh?’ You quipped, playing with your hands.

‘Well, I mean – yeah. Just… you know. I feel bad that you’re struggling.’ She seemed uncomfortable, unused to showing her sympathetic nature.

‘Thanks, Abby… I really appreciate it,’ Surprise briefly took her, like she didn’t know that you knew who she was, shocked to hear her name tumble so perfectly out of your mouth.

‘Yeah, just… if you need anything…’ She trailed off.

‘I’ll be sure to find you if I need any more help with electronics,’ You teased, your heart thrumming behind your chest. She smiled, awkwardly drumming her hands on the rail of the treadmill before pushing herself off and turning to leave.

‘I’ll see you around.’ She threw over her shoulder. You exchanged your goodbyes, turning back to the treadmill controls.

You felt a rush of emotion, warmth flooding through you. You weren’t expecting such a sweet interaction. You felt guilty that you hadn’t expected it from her, preexisting presumptions based on her hard outer shell getting the better of your judgement. Not that you had negative thoughts about her, in fact, it was quite the opposite. But she was quieter than you had expected. More shy, less imposing, an awkward charm lacing her disposition.

Your mind didn’t leave the conversation throughout your entire run, that morning.

© all work on this page belongs to abbyscoins — please do not translate, use AI on, or repost my work!

[glass-apothecary]

Abby Anderson gagged and strapped to a Sybian. Her arms tied behind her back. At first, she rides it, rolling her hips and moaning at the vibrations, Putting on a show. 

The control is in your hand, and you watch sweat drip down her toned stomach as you turn it all the way up. You love watching her like this. Her usual composed facade fading as she’s forced to feed into the animal need of pleasure.

When she comes, her muscles tense and twitch at the unrelenting vibration, unable to escape. 

You straddle the back of the Sybian behind her. Her eyes roll back in her head and she grunts in pleasure/pain. Running your hands up her thighs slowly, you feel them tremble and shake. When you press down on her hips, she nearly screams, forced to take it all. She comes again.

You turn the vibrations down, long enough for her to recover. With you still behind her, she rolls her head back on your shoulder, breathing heavily. 

When she seems too peaceful, you turn it back up again, you can tell it’s hard for her to remain upright, but the ropes give her no choice.

After it's all over, you lay her out so pretty for you. She’s exhausted, skin glistening and flushed, eyes half-lidded. You trace the marks the silk ropes left on her thighs and descend between her legs. She’s so sensitive like this. The lightest touches making her honest-to-god whimper, her legs twitching and trying to close against her will. 

You take her slow, avoiding her poor abused clit. She’s just so soaked, you have to clean her up, your tongue tracing the folds of her cunt. She doesn’t come again, you’re not sure she even could. But you do, with her thighs around your head and your hand between your own legs.

[aelxnox]

PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY

warning: dacryphilia, dildo riding, slight cheek slapping, clit rubbing

"I c-can't.. no more, Abby.. please." You pleaded, eyes filled with tears as you continued your weak bouncing movements on the dildo that was attached to your bedroom floor. Abby watches you, bottom lip caught in between her teeth and eyes filled with hunger as she sat on your shared bed manspread.

"You can do it. I know you can." She muttered, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her thighs. You shook your head, heavy tears flowing down your already tear-streaked face as you struggled to fuck yourself on the fake cock.

"N-no. I can't, baby. No more." You choked out, sobs escaping your mouth that sounded like moans. Abby sighed and got up from the bed to walk towards you. She knelt down, eyes roaming around your naked body until they landed on your swollen lips.

"You look so pretty when you cry." She husked and leaned in to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, her tongue delving in your mouth—searching, teasing.

You moaned, hands flying up to wrap around her neck. Abby's hand found its way to your soaking cunt, her middle finger rubbing soft circles on your swollen clit. Your legs trembled and you broke away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths— your mouth hanging open.

"Ungh! P-please, Abby, please." You plead once again and tried to chase her lips but she moved away, a teasing smirk forming on her beautiful face. "Unt-unt. You'd have to make yourself cum. Go on, pretty baby." She taunted, her smirk widening as she sees you grow more desperate.

"Plea-" she cut you off with a smack to your face. It wasn't hard, it didn't hurt, but it was firm enough to silence you. Your breath caught in your throat and you slowly nodded at Abby before continuing to bounce on the silicone cock, your eyes rolling back when it hit your womb.

"F-fuck, ahh.. Abby, I love you, I love you." You chanted, chest heaving and breath ragged when you felt your orgasm nearing. Abby watched you with a smile on her face, her fingers now soaked by your juices from teasing your sensitive clit. "I love you too, sweetheart. Go on, cum for me." She whispered and pushed her fingers hard against your clit.

Your body arched towards her, eyes rolling back and mouth hung wide as you finally came on the dildo. Your legs trembled and Abby immediately gripped your waist to keep you from falling.

"Hngh, A-Abby.." you whimpered, voice so needy that shd couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, that's right. Good girl. You did so fucking good for me." She praised and leaned down to peck your lips.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

[ggutpunch]

Abby the day after I fucked, ate and rubbed her pussy raw