#don’t mess with Abby…

[chloesimaginationthings]

Abby will have beef with toy Bonnie in FNAF 2..

[anessthetic]

happy new year everyone :]

[monpetitchattriste]

Rough ladynoir sketch for this night,

[thecryptidenthusiast]

Title: beg for divinity in my breath

Rating: E. Nsft. Mature etc.

Word Count: 3.8K

Pairing: Nate Sewell/Female Detective

Summary: She always thought Nate always looked good in green. Aka, Nate gets tied up and begs a little bit in this one, everybody.

I don’t ever write smut, so take that as a warning lol

“Are they okay? Not too tight?”

“They’re fine. Just as they were the last time you asked.” Nate’s teasing words go mostly unheard, with Abby’s attention instead on the knots binding his wrists. Gentle tugs and adjustments, making sure no one spot is too tight. “And the time before that.”

She doesn’t miss that one. The surprised yelp from him as she lightly pinches the soft skin of his inner arm feels like enough of a response.

The strays are silk - soft, as green as the forest floor. Expensive, if she had to guess, considering they came from Nate. Sacrificed from a robe or something similar, she wasn’t sure. They were the same ones she’d felt the gentle sting of on her own wrists at one point. This wasn’t new for them, just a change in the dynamic.

When she’d proposed the idea, it had been an offhand remark. She’d been lost, watching him fold the straps to put away. Long, graceful fingers and a deft touch making precise folds, her attention was entirely taken up by him, even as she idly rubbed the slight chafing on her skin (barely there redness that she’d hardly noticed, but Nate still fretted over it all the same once he noticed).

Her mouth ran without her mind: made a comment about being interested in seeing him tied up at one point. Nothing she expected much from.

She hadn’t expected the sudden, sharp breath he’d taken. Or the obvious interest in his eyes as soon as the words were out there. Or his very eager acceptance.

But he liked the idea as much as she did. Who was she to turn down the opportunity?

The irony of it all didn’t slip by her though. He’s bound and she’s hovering, checking in at every step to make sure he’s comfortable. The same thing she’d teased him about before. Reversed roles, and yet nothing was truly different.

Still, she settles back on her knees, hands on her hips in faux annoyance as she scowls at the vampire currently lounged out on the bed before her. “Quit teasing, or I’ll leave you like this.”

And he just grins, infuriating amusement glimmering in his eyes. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He makes a show of settling further into the pillows he’s propped against, making himself comfortable. For just a split second, she considers making good on her threat. Just out of stubborn defiance alone, to make a point. His arms are tied to the bedframe and yet he still can’t seem to keep from running his mouth.

Instead, she just smiles down at him. As sweet as she can manage, the kind that promises nothing good, and tries not to laugh at the smallest hint of alarm she can see creeping onto his face. Propping her hands on his knees, she leans in and kisses him. Gentle, soft and unhurried. It takes considerable effort to keep herself from getting lost in it, in the special kind of intoxication that only ever comes from him.

She needs to keep her head. She’s got plans for him, after all.

“No, we wouldn’t.” The words are mumbled against him, trapped in the small space between them. She catches his lower lip between her teeth and tugs, just enough to hear the quiet groan from him. She pulls away then, leans further out of his reach when he tries to chase her for another. “So, last time: they’re okay?”

She asks like it’s nothing. As if she’s completely unbothered. He has to take a breath to steady himself (and she lets it stroke her ego, to know that somebody like her can fluster someone like him). He gives both straps a tug, wiggling his fingers for added effect before smiling at her once more. “Still fine, I promise. They’re comfortable.”

(And part of her knows she’s doing too much. Going over the top. This is all about the novelty, really. Something new between them. But in reality, he’s barely tied. She’d left them loose enough that one twist could free him. A single word, and they’d stop. Besides that, he could rip through them with ease, shatter the bedposts without so much of a second thought. He isn’t bound, just as this isn’t really about control. Not at the center of it all.

It’s the inherent trust in an act like this: giving yourself entirely to the other. It’s a precious thing - something she tucks away, cradles inside her chest)

He’s still smiling, looking up at her as if she’s hung the stars in the sky, and it strikes her just how pretty he is. Wrists tied in silk, stripped down to his sleep pants. His hair is down, tousled from her fingers, lips well-kissed -from moments ago as well as before, when he’d been determined to be nothing more than a complete distraction from anything else.

A single shirt shouldn’t have taken so long to come off. And two simple knots should have been done within a handful of moments. But Nate, with his wandering fingers and insatiable lips, made it a task.

He’s so pretty. And all hers, for now at least.

“Enjoying yourself?” His voice brings her out of her thoughts. Just as she’d been taking the time to look at him, he’d been watching her, one brow cocked in amusement. More teasing. How he can walk that thin line between confident and cocky with such ease, she’ll never know, but it’s something he’s perfected.

It should be annoying. If it was anybody else, it probably would be.

She blinks, shaking her head to rid herself of the distracting thoughts. “Sorry, just enjoying the view.” She throws him a grin, “You do look good like this. But now that you’re here, I’m wondering what to do with you…”

Something crosses his face then. Eyes darkening, grin slipping into something sharper. Heat and desire evident in his gaze. “Whatever you wish, I suppose.”

And there’s promise in those words. His voice has the barest hint of a rough edge to it, just enough to send excitement skittering down her spine.

Their game is a balancing act now - give too much and the scales will tip, everything ending far too soon. She should feel unsettled, unnerved by the fact he can work her up without even touching her. A simple look, a few words, and he leaves her feeling taken apart and exposed. Laid bare, even through layers of clothes.

(It’s still new, and strange, and- not something she wants to dwell on-)

Her hands brush up, settling on his stomach, the muscles there tensing as her fingers trace patterns on his skin. Her eyes never leave his, watching him settle further back, a silent sort of conceding to give her free reign to him. “Tempting thought, but I don't think that’s how this should work.” She taps out a rhythm along his ribs, feels the rise and fall as he takes a breath. Her hands wander and his eyes flutter closed as she follows a well-mapped path. Up his stomach, along his chest. “I want to hear you. I want you to tell me what you want.”

Nate’s eyes open at that - brown, dancing on the edge of black, locking with hazel. There’s a realization there, cutting through the rising fog of want as he picks up on the challenge in her words.

(This game isn’t new, and he’s finally realizing she plans to push him just he’d done to her)

Another breath from him. Sharp inhale, shaky exhale. Carefully putting together his composure. “Do you wish for me to beg?” He asks innocently, lips curling. Unwilling to give into her gentle demands just yet. It’s moments like this where the sheer level of his stubbornness shines through, and she wonders if it’s a trait he’s learned over his centuries of existence, or a facet of himself he’s always carried.

There’s a temptation in that idea, because she knows he would. As much as he likes to carry the facade of resistance as long as he can, all it would take is a simple request. One word, and he’d be happy to indulge her - plead for her touch, just as she had for him. Repeat her name like a scripture, if she were to press just right.

Maybe they’ll get there before the night is done.

Leaning forward, she tucks her face into his neck, pressing a slow kiss just under his ear. Feels him shiver and huff, tilting to give her more access, but she doesn’t budge like he’d been hoping. “Maybe not beg.” She moves, nips at his earlobe just to feel him shudder. “Maybe ask nicely, though. Just tell me what you want.”

“Abby.” His voice is a low rumble. She’s not being fair, not really. But the almost growl of her name is enough to raise goosebumps on her arms. It’s enough to spur her on, stoking the slow-burning heat just under her skin.

Brushing her nose along his jaw, she presses kisses against his neck. One lingering under his chin before she leans away, moving away just as he turns to try and catch her in a proper one. The smile she gives him is sharp, unyielding.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me.” His voice is sweet, smile soft. The only giveaway that he’s affected at all is the dark of his eyes, the way he watches her lips as she speaks.

Her hand slips down, down - from his chest, down his stomach to wind her fingers through the dark trail of hair just below his belly button. He’s shivering, muscles tense under her touch. “I have been touching you.”

He lets out a shaky laugh, more of a wheeze than anything. “That’s not-” His voice catches as her thumb slips beneath the elastic, “That’s not quite what I meant.”

She relents, just a little. Reaches down and cups him through the fabric, a small self-satisfied smile curling her lips when she finds him already hard for her. His eyes squeeze shut, hissing something under his breath as she traces along the length of him. “Here, then?”

He lets out the softest of sighs. “Better, yes.” His hips jerk slightly, chasing for friction. “Just, not-”

“Not what?”

A dull thunk as his head falls back against the headboard, she sees his brows furrow. The unsteady rise and fall of his chest. “Touch me, please. Let me feel you.”

It’s not exactly what she’d been looking for, but it’s enough of a step in the right direction. If she weren’t just as eager to get her hands on him, she’d string him along a little more. Instead, she slips her hand into his pants, fingers wrapping firmly around the base of him. Taking a moment to revel in the heat of him in her palm, she gives the softest squeeze before slowly pumping her hand.

It’s an awkward angle, kneeling beside him like this. But the moan that comes deep from his chest and the way he tosses head back is reward enough to deal with any twinges of discomfort.

“Abby,” He sounds thankful. Pleading. With a mouth too pretty to ignore, she leans in and kisses him properly. It’s as lazy as her strokes - slow, drawn out. Slicks her tongue against his as she squeezes again, feels him jerk slightly.

He shifts, tensing in one arm as if he’d tried to touch her, just to remember the straps keeping him in place. She moves a little, content to watch his face. Pleasure at war with frustration. Frustration that he can’t move, can’t touch her.

Left to her will.

“Is this what you wanted?” She’s not sure where this stroke of confidence came from. Maybe it was the way she could see him slipping, the rush of excitement that she’s got him.

Maybe, maybe she realizes why he likes teasing her.

“A little more,” His hips jerk up again, as if chasing what she won’t give him. Her fingers twist a little, but her pace stays the same.

“More what?”

Now the sound he makes is pure frustration, head tilted back, and she takes that chance to run her tongue along the line of his neck. “Faster. I need you to go faster.”

Strained words, stuck somewhere between a plea and an order. But she decides to give just a little more.

It doesn’t take much effort to rid him of the rest of his clothes. She’d planned on just pulling them down enough to free him, give herself more room to work, but Nate gladly kicked them off the rest of the way. She tosses them to the side, lost to the floor somewhere, before glancing up at him. At the way he’s watching her every move.

He’s pretty like this, too. One hand wrapping around him, a thumb brushing against the weeping head. Watches the way he arches into her touch at that, listening to the choked moan that tears from his chest.

She wants to take him apart. Watch him crumble, just for her.

Unable to resist herself, she leans in, tongue swiping at the tip to get a taste of him. His lips part as if to say something, but she takes him in her mouth and the words taper into a moan.

Her head bobs, taking him as deep as she can. Fingers working the rest that she can’t. One hand braces on his hip, a silent order to stay, and she can feel the tension running through him as he fights the urge to jerk forward as much as he can from his position.

She pushes him higher and higher, listens to the babbling from him. Wonderful words, please and so good, don’t stop. Listens to him get closer, lets herself move a little faster, even when her throat aches.

There’s a single jerk of his hips, one he can’t control. His head thrown back, hands balled into fists, so close he’s almost there-

So, she stops. Pulls her mouth off, kisses his thighs and lower stomach even as he lets out a strangled noise.

“Why-?”

“Not done with you.” Her own voice sounds strange to her. Rougher. It’s a threat at a promise as she works her way back up his body, nipping small marks as she goes. There’s something bordering on wild in her now, watching the mess she’s made of him. Her hand goes back to the slow pumps, not fast enough to hold him at that peak but just enough to keep him desperate.

She straddles his legs and settles to watch. Tracks the movement of her hand as it works. The way he’s leaking needily along her fingers, the slight jerk of his hips as he fucks her fist, chasing the pleasure she’s dangling before him. The white hot rush of desire that rushes through her at that moment is enough to make her dizzy, to have her mindlessly rocking against the thigh trapped between her legs.

It’s wild, and messy, and she’s never felt anything like this.

He’s watching her. Watching as she grinds against his thigh, going in time with her hand. A coil of want settles low in her belly, and suddenly this game feels like too much. She feels too big for her body, ready to burst, and she wants- everything. All of him. Willing to steal it all, but knowing he’d give it to her willingly. She kisses along his shoulder, his chest. Biting to leave marks she’ll never get to see. Tongue peeking out to taste sweat-stained skin.

“Kiss me, please.” It’s too desperate to be an order, and she can’t resist him. Not now, when she feels like there’s a live wire running through her nerves. Lips press against his, and this kiss isn’t gentle, or soft. It’s a clash of tongues and teeth that leaves a whine building in the back of her throat. That has her hips pressing down harder.

He raises his leg, giving her more pressure and there are stars dancing at the edges of her vision.

“Talk to me, Nate.” She’s proud that can find any words, let alone string together a sentence. She pulls back just enough to really look at him, mere inches between them. He looks hazy, unfocused. There’s sweat on his brow and his lips are swollen from hers. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” The word sounds strangled, but he’s too gone to care. He kisses the side of her face, her shoulder, any part that he can reach. “I need you, Abby, please.”

And oh, how pretty he sounds when he’s begging.

She moves quickly, pulls the two knots loose with simple tugs (he’d barely been bound but he waited for permission-) and then her world tilts, too fast for her to keep track of. She’s on her back and Nate’s kissing her. His hands are everywhere at once, on the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, pushing her shirt up until he can palm her breast. It’s a frantic scramble to try and work her clothes off, neither willing to break away from the other. Something rips, but the tearing fabric can barely be heard over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

“Fuck, Nate,” Finally, finally that careful, stubborn composure of his has snapped. The grip he has on her hips is bordering on aching, but it’s the delicious sort of pain. The one that tells her there will be bruises in the morning. Not that she can bring herself to care, not with him slotting his hips between her thighs as his head drops to her chest. He presses hot, open mouthed kisses there, the scrape of teeth enough to make her moan.

She feels the slightest scrape of fang against her collarbone is enough to make her head spin.

And yet, he’s hesitating. Just one, painful second, but it feels like an eternity in this moment. “Are you- Is this okay?” He asks against her skin, voice shaking, a rumble in his chest that she feels as much as she hears. Checking that she’s okay with this, with him, even when they’re both trembling.

She loves him, so much it makes her ache. Bright and wonderful and overwhelming.

And he’s going to drive her mad.

Her answer is to lock her legs around his hips, dig her heels into his back and drag him closer. Rocking against him until they’re both gasping. Please, please move.

He’s not gentle now, as he presses inside her. Too lost in the feeling of everything, his hips snap forward and she’s full, the pace he sets is rushed. Sharp, shallow thrusts that have her losing any thought that isn’t him, him, him. He hits a spot inside her that has her eyes rolling, nails dragging down his back, making welts there that heal as quick as they came.

So good, you’re so good I love you. Words against skin, spoken between desperate gasps. His fingers find hers, interlacing as he presses her hand down against the bed above their heads. He’s close, if the irregular jerk of his hips is any sign, and she’s almost there. A little more, just-

His free hand slips between them, thumb rolling over her clit with practiced ease, and she’s suddenly falling off that ledge. His name is no more than a strangled cry, arching into him, and she’s barely aware of him following just behind. He comes apart with a groan, buries his face into the crook of her neck. It takes- time, a good amount of time before Abby can even think clearly.

He all but collapses afterwards, for once letting his entire weight settle on her. It's warm, and a little sweaty, but she’s too dazed to move, and the pressure is nice. He’s rocking once, twice, chasing the aftershocks. A moment passes, then another, the only sound in the room is their own breaths as they come down from their high. Finally, when she gets feeling back in her extremities, she detangles her hand from his, earning a displeased grunt that tapers into a pleased sigh as she brushes her fingers through his hair. Being mindful of the knots, she presses featherlight kisses to the side of his head. “Are you okay?”

His laugh is an airy, tired one, his voice muffled against her neck where he’s refusing to leave. “I don’t think I can move.”

“Come on love, we can’t stay like this.” Her comment is met with yet another groan, this one more drawn out than the previous had been. She nudges him, and it takes a few strong pokes in the side to get him to move, but rather than get up she watches as he gracelessly flops to his side. She gets barely a moment before he’s reaching out and dragging her into him, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Nate,” She tries again, barely able to hold back her laughter as he curls around her. “Nate, we need to get up.”

“Later, ya rouhi. For now let’s just…rest.” She does laugh at that, at the sleepy drawl to his words. She shifts around, catching both of his hands between hers, fingers gently rubbing at his wrists. It isn’t until she’s brushing kisses against the bones, just under his skin, that she notices the small smile curling at his lips.

No marks, not that she’d really been expecting to see any. He heals too fast for that. But it makes her feel better to check, anyways. “We really do need to get cleaned up.” The sweat on her skin is cooling and it isn’t pleasant, but the idea of pulling away from him is even less so. “If you don’t get up, then I’m not going to want to.”

“Good, stay here then. With me.” He sounds far too pleased with himself, arms wrapping around her to hold her against him. She could shake him off, if she really wanted to, but he’s comfortable and she’s quickly losing this fight.

“Nate.”

“Abby.” There’s a soft kiss against her head, his nose nuzzling against her temple. “We’ll get up later. For now, just rest? Please?”

She pauses, moves just enough to narrow her eyes at him. “I feel like you’re going to abuse that power.” Whether it’s her comment, or the disgruntled tone, she isn’t sure, but Nate laughs at that. Bright and happy as he kisses the top of her head, nuzzling against her temple.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He sounds entirely too innocent to be believable.

“Right. Sure you don’t.” His fingers are intertwining with hers, and exhaustion is making her muscles lax. They need to move, and they will but- maybe, not yet. She lets herself settle into him. “Ten minutes, Nate.”

He’s dragging a blanket over the both of them, lips pressing one more slow kiss against her forehead. “Ten minutes.”

They still need to get up. But for now, for now she lets herself get lost in him.

[jeanmoreaue]

Thanks for all the rankings❣️

Now rank the foxes by how close they are to Kevin😈

tyty for sending them in i feel like i should start doing the youtube S tier chart bc it might be more visually appealing lmaoo but okay i hope the Andrew placement isn’t controversial here, ik they’ve known each other for longer and trust each other a lot. howeverr Neil and Kevin are just two peas in a pod. cut from the same cloth. (but there’s also parts to Kevin that Neil doesn’t fully understand obviously) anyway:

1. Wymack (i’m including him bc it’s true)

2. Neil

3. Andrew

4. Abby

5. Aaron

6. Nicky

7. Matt

8. Dan

9. Allison

10. Renee

[munamania]

i respect pad wearers rlly i do and i almost always have one/on as backup but im so used to using tampons now that i dont have one im like damn u can just feel urself bleeding like this. huh. like just not used to the sensation and also have no concept of how much i’m usually. yeah

[rosethreeart]

okay but even tho it's not Arthur being worried that Lars is just dating Abby to be able to be closer to him and it takes a solid few months to convince himself that Lars does genuinely like his daughter.

(Lars will not complain tho if he gets to meet his favorite band of all time too tho, he's counting this as a win/win)

YES!!!! Arthur is HELLA suspicious of Lars at first and it actually causes him and Abby it get into a pretty big fight at some point 👀.

Eventually he sees that it’s all just a coincidence but it definitely takes some time to get there

Meanwhile Lars is just oblivious to the whole fucking thing IDDNDJSJSJS

[freakova]

Do you think that when they hire the actress to play Abby in The last of Us s2 tv show, they’ll have to sit them down and say “okay, so the character you’re playing? A lot of people are not too happy with them. Turn off your social notifs”

[lukeskywalking]

Just finished TLOU. Might fuck around and not watch season 2 ❤️

[futureghost97]

.

[ennabear]

ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ cowboy!abby brainrot has me doing backflips lately… specifically ab/happy trail riding… 18+

propping herself up on her elbows, she sits and stares at you with a cocky grin, watching as you helplessly rub yourself on her abs. a glistening trail of your arousal paints her pale stomach in a clear glitter that sparkles and sticks to your folds as you move your hips. her pout returns as she notices you unable to get off on her abs alone, so she grabs your thighs and maneuvers you lower, briefly restricting your movements until you’re settled just below her belly button.

the coarse trail of hair that crawls up from her bush adds a new level of friction, causing you to speed up your movements and completely soak it in an instant. whines claw their way out of your throat, but abby shushes you gently, saying “you don’t want them hearin’ us now, do you?” and gestures to the group of cattle farmers on the other side of the barn walls.

your thighs quiver as she traces circles on your hips, the soft, tickling sensation adding to your arousal. your moans suddenly amplify as you inch closer to your orgasm, so abby has no choice but to grab the bandana from her neck and tie it around your mouth. “that’s it, now give it to me.”

and with that, you’re feeling nothing but intense pleasure washing over you. stars sparkle in your vision, hearing momentarily impaired as you flow through your dizzying orgasm. before you can come down fully, abby is untying the bandana and leading your head down to her happy trail. “better put that mouth to good use babygirl, clean up the mess you made.”

[atyourmerci]

I don’t care that you’re a stoner

Ceo!abby

Dr. A.A

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, mean!abby, sub!reader, light bondage (belt), tribbing brrr, talks of strap usage, tribbing breeding kink brrr, degradation, fingering, cum play

A/N: this is technically a drabble but I gave it a title bc that’s what Chappell deserves

◊

Why Dr. Anderson decided to come to you, your pathetic excuse of an ‘office’ instead of your usual frequent visits to hers, was beyond you. Following her around like a dog to her every beck and call. Having to call her doctor since she insisted on getting her doctorate in finance…fucking prick.

Even your credentials, your place in the hierarchy of the company didn’t exclude you from being her little bitch. She seldom gave you the decency of just looking at you when you did her dirty work. Filing her papers, calling her clients, getting her coffee, black of course, like she would drink anything with an ounce of happiness.

She never thanked you. She made it clear where you stood to her, below her. A bleeding, breathing, able-minded body. It could be you, or the next, as long as it was done correctly.

So nice of her as she glares at you from the door of your office that was always open. “What are your plans for tonight?” She says driving her veiny wrists into her slack pockets, her normal intimidating eyes driving into your soul.

“I should be done that paperwork by six, is there something else I need to get to you?”

“After that,” she remarks sternly, as if you should’ve know that, as if that was something she’d ever asked before.

“Uhh go home?” You answer dumbly, utterly confused by her insistence on your personal endeavors.

“Come out with us tonight. We go to max’s down the road,” it was a question with no opportunity for refusal. You didn’t say no to Dr.Anderson.

“Oh I don’t-“ you shake your head before she cuts you off.

“I know I can smell you. Seven. Tonight.”

Sprawled out, aggressively stripped of your outing dress, on her luxurious thousand thread cotton sheets. Dr. Anderson’s Louis Vuitton belt tied around your wrist, her attempt to regain dominance.

Even as she’s panting, muffled curses coming out as pleas as she grinds her soaking cunt against your own. Her clit is so swollen now, after completely abusing your hole. Her pent up arousal seeping into the sticky mess she created with her relentless thrusts earlier.

“Couldn’t fucking stop thinking ‘bout this,” she pants out, rutting into you like a dog in heat, her sticky white cum ruining her precious expensive sheets.

You can’t seem to find words to remark her pathetic admission, so completely fucked out from your previous orgasm.

Kneading your breast in her hand she brings her teeth to your neck, biting down on the thin flesh, sure to leave marks for everyone to see. But that wasn’t enough for her.

“Gonna cum in this needy pussy, let everyone know how much of a whore you are.”

A guttural moan leaves your throat, the thought of her marking you, claiming you as hers.

“Hmm the little slut likes that? Getting used as my fucking cumdump?”

The only thing you can seem to mutter out is a sad ‘mhmm’ as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

A ‘fucking slut’ is heard in the background as you feel her reposition herself, turning herself sideways inbetween your legs, throwing your leg over her shoulder. She reconnects your swollen clits, with the addition of sliding two of her thick fingers back into you. Slipping in with ease, coating her fingers with the mix of pearl slick.

“FUCK,” you come back to your senses at the new sensation, needing to hold onto anything but your hands are still bound by her belt.

“Still so fucking tight, need to stretch her out so it’ll only feel good when I do it.” Her pace beginning to quicken, her hips bucking into your thigh. Her teeth biting into the flesh of your thigh, holding back whimpers of your name.

“B-better take all my cum. Every last drop slut,” she begins losing herself, her thrusts only getting sloppier. Gripping into the flesh of your thighs to stabilize herself, trying to get you off again before herself.

“I-I promise doctor.”

Was what set her off, dropping her head back as her mouth gapes. “fuckfuckholyfuck,” her legs begin to shake, hot white cream dripping out of her pulsing hole, dripping down your clit and finding its home in your own twitching abandoned hole.

Huffing out as she regains her stability, realizing she’s losing time, her cum dripping down to her sheets and spreading. Not where she needed it.

She takes her fingers back to your cunt, scooping up what’s left, pushing it deep inside of you and keeping them as far as she can get.

“This is what you wanted huh? Nasty fucking mess stuffed with my cum,” she says with a grin of the devil herself. So pleased seeing you so dumb for her, another level of submission she could coax you into.

You give a pathetic nod, feeling her cum painting your walls as she’s deep in your cervix. She begins giving tantalizing licks to your clit as she watches your chest rise and fall.

“Abby please-“

Before you could finish you feel a rough grab on your belt adorned wrists, pulling you up to face her.

“Get the rest you missed.” She says pulling you down into the sheets, your mouth opening instinctively. Licking the cum soaked cotton sheets as she watches you from below her.

Once she’s satisfied she grips your jaw in her hand, guiding your gaze to her soaking cunt, still dripping with the mix of both of your orgasms-

“Every. Last. Drop.”

[misserabella]

pls i love your work 😭 can you write an abby x reader where reader is on her period and she’s been irritated at everything and gets an attitude with abby and she puts reader in her place, like soft dom abby because she doesn’t wanna hurt you bc you’re extra sensitive on your period but she’s not gonna let you talk to her like that

bloody heaven

abby anderson x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, period sex!!, soft dom! abby x sub! reader, oral (r receiving) (IF YOU DON’T FW IT DON’T READ!!), fingering (r receiving), punishment, spanking, begging, slight teasing, praising, praise kink, abby being a perfect girlfriend, cum eating…

“keep counting baby.”

“five…” you whimper.

your ass was reddish below her hand, aching and on fire. a fire that warmed your bones and made you shiver, a fire that made you soak your thighs, made you impossibly wetter by how sensitive your period made you.

“you’re doing well baby. doing so well for me…” she caressed your abused skin, soothing it before another slap made your ass giggle and a moan fall from your lips.

your eyes were swelled with tears, your bottom lip swollen by your constant biting.

“six…” her touch trailed from your ass down in between your soaked thighs and onto your exposed core. you were on your middle of your period, your blood staining her fingertips. but your amazing and gorgeous girlfriend didn’t care about the mess. it was something natural. and just a little bit of blood didn’t make you less beautiful, or desirable.

“so wet for me already… this what you needed, baby? needed my attention? that why you got an attitude with me?” you nodded, making her coo. “but you know that’s not how we ask for things, do you princess.”

“i’m sorry…” you sobbed.

“i know baby, i know…” she muttered, circling your throbbing and sensitive puffy clit, making you whimper and shake on her lap. “but good girls like you know that punishments are important too, hm?” you nodded once again. “words, baby. use your pretty voice for me, come on.”

“yes. yes.” you moaned, thrashing and whining when she removed her touch from your soaked cunt.

“just four more, okay? just four more for me, baby.” she went back to your ass, giving you a little caress before her hand was raising and giving you a harsh slap. you let out a small whine, your nails digging on the sheets. “now, keep counting for me.” she softly said.

“seven.” another slap. “eight…” you whimpered out in a sob.

“two more baby. two more and i’ll take good care of this pretty pussy of yours, hm?” she promised. and you sighed, your ass rising against your touch. her eyebrows rose. “don’t tell me you’re enjoying this, angel.” your cheeks blushed, and she chuckled. “is this making my pretty girl wet, hm?” you nodded.

“please…” you begged, and she cursed.

“fuck it.” you squealed when abby suddenly and easily manhandled you so you’d be resting on your fours, your chest against the sheets as your ass stood up in the air, your soaked and throbbing pussy showing for her hungry eyes.

“abby!” you screamed her name when her mouth found you, her strong and warm hands spreading your ass checks as her tongue made a fat long strip from your clit to your hole, humming, never minding the metallic taste of your blood. you were not bleeding much, but it was still enough to make a mess of her lips and chin. “abby don’t!! i’m-!”

“you’re what?” she asked, licking at your clit and making you shudder. “you think a little bit of blood is gonna keep me away from this pussy? no fucking way.” your eyes rolled back when she sucked on that little bundle of nerves, making you whimper as you held on tight to the sheets, moaning when her palm came down onto your ass, making your hips thrust back against her touch and mouth. “so needy…” she groaned, kissing at your folds, licking up and down, moving her face side to side… she was devouring you, driving you insane.

“abby…” you whimpered her name as one of her fingers plunged inside of you, the squelching of your warm walls taking it making you flush.

her hungry eyes took in the way your gaping hole swallowed her in. “thaaat’s it. taking it so good for me, baby. such a good girl for me.” your back arched as another smack came down onto your ass, her mouth back at your clit as she started to thrust in and out of you, her finger stained in your pre cum and blood.

you whimpered, fucking yourself against it, gasping in pleasure when she pushed a second in. “i’m- i’m not gonna last. feels ‘s good…” you slurred, babbling, completely lost in your pleasure as abby fucked you dumb on her fingers and tongue.

“so sensitive…” she hummed. “bet it feels so good to get fucked like this, doesn’t it?” she thrusted harder, deeper, making you scream. “want you to cum for me, pretty girl. want you to make a mess out of my face.” she muttered against your pussy, flicking your clit with her tongue.

“yes, yes… im going to, im cumming! fuckfuckfuck!!” you cried out, feeling the band on your lower stomach snap, your orgasm hitting you so hard your whole world went quiet for a second. abby moaned against you when the tangy and creamy cum hit her tongue and filled her mouth, slurping up every last drop that dripped from your hole down your folds as she shallowly fucked you through it, overstimulating you to the point in which you had to push on her head so she would get away from your cunt.

you hissed at the feeling of her fingers pulling out and the last lick she made up your folds, slurping all your juices with a pleased hum. you kept your back arched, completely boneless as you tried to pace your breath. abby smiled, taking you in and slowly pulling you into her arms, staring at your dazed and pleased expression. “feeling better?” she asked, and you nodded, before you took in the sticky and bloody mess you’d made out of her cheeks, chin and mouth.

“abby… look at you.” you pouted, your hands cracking her pretty bloody face. the red only made her blue beautiful eyes shine more. she hummed, leaving a soft peck on your lips to take away that pout.

“anything for my baby.”

-

a/n; ty for your support angel <3

[celeryb1tch]

innocent!reader x experienced!pervert!abby is rotting my brain tonight!!!

18+!! this is lesbian smut!

you sit at a table in the mess hall, abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and her friends all enjoying their dinner. casual conversation is thrown around the table, until manny’s new fling is brought up.

“-and i mean, SOAKED the sheets. i couldn’t believe my eyes,” he recounts proudly.

everyone is laughing along or rolling their eyes, but abby notices your hesitance. she leans down toward you with a concerned look. “something wrong?”

you shake your head lightly, looking up at her. “jus’ don’t get it,” you reply.

abby feels her stomach twist. she had known there wasn’t great sex ed on the WLF base, but she and her friends had grown up around doctors like her dad and she realizes she hadn’t know the full extent of just how ignorant you were. and admittedly, it made her excited.

“she squirted when she came,” she tries to explain gently. but you still look utterly confused, even as she goes on.

“…come? and she didn’t pee?” you seem so utterly lost. abby wonders if it makes her a bad person to expose you to these ideas, but you’re both already adults. still, that knot is twisting inside her deriving a sick pleasure from all of this. you had always looked up to abby, and she wondered how wrong it would be to corrupt that relationship with talk of sex- or even a demonstration?

that night, you’re laying in bed thinking about what abby said earlier. with all the training and violence you’d grown up around, you hardly had time to pay attention to the ache between your legs, or how it would usually occur when abby was around. but as you recount that conversation in your mind, it appears once more. you think of her arm wrapping around you, pressing you into her hard front. how she was still warm and sweaty from the gym, and how her flyaways stuck to the sides of her forehead because of that. something inside of you is saying you should be embarrassed, and you don’t know exactly why- but a louder, much louder, part is telling you to confide in your best friend. she would never judge you, right?

you shuffle down a few hallways in your fluffy socks until you reach one of the bigger accommodations: abby’s room. and with a bit of hesitance in your knock, you step back as the door opens immediately.

abby is clearly groggy, and must have also been getting ready for bed. she’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and the usual black sports bra she has on during patrols and workouts. her hair is tied in her signature braid, with more wispy pieces that have come out throughout the day. “hey, you. everything okay?”

you nod and push past abby inside as was usual. she joins you on her bed, your bare thighs touching as you both sit. her eyes are on you and you can feel it again- that heat. you pull away slightly, squeezing your legs together as it’s the only thing you know eases the feeling.

abby pretends not to notice, just like she does any other time you blatantly stare at her muscles or blush when she touches your waist. she doesn’t want to scare you off, especially when she thinks she can tell what you’re going to ask about.

“you remember earlier at dinner?” you say, biting your lip slightly as unease turns in your tummy. and abby just nods, still looking right at you. “how manny said he made a girl, uh…”

“squirt?” abby offers. she says it so nonchalantly, like it’s nothing. like she’s never in a million years thought about fucking you until you do. like she wasn’t hoping this would happen every second after dinner.

“yeah, well, i realized there’s probably a lot of sex stuff i don’t know, and since you… y’know…”

poor baby, she thinks. how will she ever work up the courage. and abby thinks of all the times she’s teased you about all the women she’s fucked. called you jealous that you had to split quality time with her one night stands. seen you pout about her missing games night because someone asked her on a date in front of you. surely you were going to ask for her expertise- for her to help you out, to show you?

“since your dad was a doctor.”

oh. that was it? you wanted a little anatomy lesson. then what was all the embarrassment for? were you that ashamed of asking for a little bit of guidance?

abby gives you a soft smile and an assurance that she can help. and your body floods with relief. this is normal. you can tell her what you’re feeling and she won’t act weird. she can help you.

you stand up and strip off your pyjama bottoms and big shirt you had likely stolen from abby so long ago you don’t remember whose it was in the first place. and she just watches, small smile still on her face as she looks you over.

“okay, so right here? boobs, obviously.” she points to your chest, and you roll your eyes.

“i know that, stupid. show me the more advanced stuff.”

“you’ll have to take your underwear off then.” so you do.

abby instinctively reaches for it, stroking her fingers between your puffy, wet lips. her eyes are shining with admiration and her cheeks are hot.

you pull away slightly at the bolt of pleasure that spikes through you at her touch. “is it… supposed to look like this? i think there’s something wrong.”

she shakes her head fervently, eyes never leaving your pussy. “you’re just wet, that’s all. did something turn you on?” and at your confusion at the term- “get you excited? when girls see something attractive, they get wet.”

oh no. you can feel dread flooding your senses as you try to scramble for an explanation. that it just happens sometimes. that’s normal, right?

after a pause, and a look at your face, abby knows exactly what happened. “oh. you got wet from me, huh?”

you want to run away and disappear. you swallow a sob, but strangely, you feel that pulsing sensation again. all of this attention from abby isn’t working in your favour.

but she isn’t grimacing in disgust, or even asking you to leave. in fact, abby has a shit-eating grin on her face as she watches you cower in front of her.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask sheepishly.

abby reaches out to you, pulling you onto her lap. “no, baby, of course not. it’s cute.”

relief washes over you, but before you can really relax you feel abby’s hand once again on your folds.

“so wet for me, baby. how long has this been happening?”

a finger skims against a particularly sensitive spot, and you choke on your words, succumbing to the blissful feeling. “s-so long, abs. like forever.”

“poor girl. so pent up, so needy. and too embarrassed to tell me.”

“yeah…” you whine. you’re clinging to abby like a lifeline, overwhelmed by the building tension. it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced before. so intense, so all-consuming.

abby’s fingers are expertly caressing your pussy, steadily adding more pressure so as not to overstimulate you. “this is the clit,” she murmurs, and you feel that electric spark again as she glides over one specific spot at the top.

“it’s too much,” you cry out, wriggling under her grasp.

“that means you’re cumming soon,” she explains with a chuckle. “feels so good, trust me. just ride it out.”

and you trust abby with every ounce of your being, so you try to relax your muscles as much as possible while you feel that climbing feeling come to a boil. and she was so right. you’re huffing tiny sobs into her chest as you come down, her strokes easing as you’re finally able to catch your breath again.

abby cradles you into her, clean hand running through your hair. you can feel the puddle between your thighs dripping down her own and onto the sheets, and you’re so exhausted.

“that was so hot, baby. did such a good job for me.”

“abs, that was… wow.”

she’s smiling down at you, admiring your sweat- wicked face. “bet you wish you’d asked me sooner, huh?”

[thecryptidenthusiast]

Title: willingness to bend

Rating: PG? Nothing much but some arguing further in. Abby is stubborn and not thinking straight, and Nate isn’t helping his case.

Pairing: Detective Abigail ‘Abby’ Brùn/Nate Sewell

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: how the post-forest argument would have actually gone between Abby ‘fiercely independent and stubborn’ Brùn and Nate ‘worries SO MUCH but terrible about talking through things’ Sewell. Also known as ‘these two care a lot about each other they’re just bad at saying so’

I was disappointed there was no sort of conversation or confrontation with these post-trapper, especially picking the dialogue option that gets you the famous “i won’t allow you to endanger yourself” line. so I’m rectifying it by making things worse <3 no spoilers really this all takes place in the timeframe of the demo, but I’ll tag it just to be safe.

Abby wasn’t expecting Nate to be waiting for her.

She’d lingered behind at the Facility after the debriefing. Longer than she probably should have, given the circumstances of…everything going on. But she’d needed some kind of respite, a little time to process without Unit Bravo looming over her shoulder.

Getting food with Vieno had been the perfect excuse for some time away.

Unit Victor had been an unexpected surprise, but ultimately a pleasant one. The group had no problems dragging chairs over and making themselves comfortable. Willing to talk about everything and nothing, they had little regard for personal boundaries.

Apparently news about her traveled far, and she wasn’t sure how she felt being at the center of it.

It seemed positive, at least.

The conversations were light. Nothing more than gossip to fuel the rumor mills. Was Adam as hard headed as everyone claimed, something Abby only gave a noncommittal shrug to because the last thing she needed was her answer somehow cycling its way back to him. They’d reached a tentative peace, she didn’t feel the need to argue with him at every comment, and he seemed to tolerate her being around. No need to upheave that progress.

They’d asked about Nate afterwards. About her relationship with him, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer around the sudden lump in her throat. Vieno steered them off by calling them a bunch of ‘nosy gossips’, and it was all Abby could do to give them a grateful nod at the intervention. Conversation still flowed afterwards as they all talked amongst themselves, and she happily let herself drift to the background.

But the lump never eased.

It’s- ridiculous. Selfish, even. Everything that’s happened in the past 24 hours, and it’s her own personal problems sitting on her mind like lead weights, something she couldn’t shake off. Added salt to the wounds of everything else.

Maybe it stung because Nate had been her point of peace. Someone that could help keep her afloat even when it felt like she was spiraling. She didn’t have that now and she felt- she felt alone.

Too lost in her own mind to be considered anything remotely close to ‘good company’, she gave a distracted good-bye before excusing herself and somehow managing to find her way to her car.

The drive back, trapped in the silence, hurt more than it helped.

She couldn’t stop herself from replaying everything over in her mind, trying to pick out where she’d gone wrong to make him so frustrated. Outside of the level of danger that was becoming a regular occurrence in her life, she’d come out of the attack fine. Stressed, a little shaken, but unhurt. She hadn’t even fought, technically. The thorny mess of underbrush had done the work for her; she’d just taken advantage of her…familiarity with the area.

Not that it mattered. Nate still hadn’t been happy she wasn’t willing to let him hide her away while everyone else fought in her place.

So, he yelled. Sort of. As much as Nate ever raises his voice.

And in turn, she yelled back at him. And if she hadn’t been so caught off guard, she would’ve been embarrassed that it all happened in front of the rest of the team.

No, that didn’t settle in until afterwards. After the chaos settled and the adrenaline faded, forced to sit through a debriefing with as much distance as she could manage between her and Nate. It mixed with the slow burning anger she’d tried to swallow down until it formed something toxic that left a bitterness in her throat.

It wasn’t Nate’s frustration that stung. Or the yelling - though that hadn’t helped. That, alone, she could have taken; sat with and picked apart into pieces of something that made sense, given enough time.

I won’t allow you.

No, the anger came even before they’d been reduced to shouting at each other. It was the declaration of what she was allowed to do, as if that’s a decision he had the right to take away from her. One sentence, buried in her mind like a splinter. The more she dug at it, the more raw she’s left afterwards.

It’s not rational, not really. One panicked phrase, said in the heat of a dangerous situation, shouldn't have struck her as hard as it did. But whether or not it was sane or fair didn’t matter - it left her feeling angry and constricted.

She doesn’t register the drive until she’s sitting outside the chain link fence of the Warehouse. It takes effort to uncurl her fingers, idly rubbing out the cramps brought on by the white-knuckled grip she’d had on the steering wheel. Staring up at the decrepit facade, with her headlights painting shadows in the gloom of the night, a part of her considers turning around. Peeling out before she has to face anyone, although…she has nowhere to go besides here. A stray thought passes through her mind about crashing at Tina’s, but she squashes it before it has a chance to take root. It’s well past 2 in the morning, and while Tina would open her door to her, Abby wouldn’t put her out like that. And she isn’t sure she wants to deal with the line of questioning that would bring on, either. And, Adam had been clear about her order to come directly back to the Warehouse afterwards.

Another order. Another decision made for her. Only this one smarts less, because she’s used to Adam telling her what to do.

So, against every nerve in her body, she forces herself to shut the car off and climb out. Mentally talking herself into taking each step forward, more mechanical feeling than anything natural. She’s not in the right headspace to handle anything more than collapsing into bed.

It’s late, anyways. Maybe she’ll be lucky and everyone will be busy doing whatever it is that keeps vampires busy throughout the night. They’ll hear her arrival, she’ll be able to get to her room and push off dealing with anything for at least a few more hours.

She wasn’t planning on Nate being up and about. Even if she shouldn’t have expected anything less from him.

“You’re back.” He startles her out of her thoughts. Perched on the couch in the living room, a book in hand, it’s clear he’d been waiting for her return. He’s smiling, doing his best to look relaxed, but she knows him too well for him to hide the tension in his body. The concern in his eyes as he looks her over.

Both get worse when she chooses to stay rooted to her spot by the door instead of moving to join him.

“I was at the Facility.” She says, words stilted and awkward as she debates her chances of making it if she were to just rush through the room and leave. She’d thought- a part of her hoped her aggravation would ease, if she gave herself time, but seeing him has it trying to claw its way to the surface again, settling like a burning coal in her chest.

Maybe he’ll let it go. Maybe he’ll just say goodnight and let her go-

“I was worried.”

He means it, that’s the worst part of it all. A passing remark made with nothing but genuine care in mind, because he always worries when she’s away. When he can’t be around. He just wants her safe. And there’s a small, logical part of her that knows that. The part that’s fighting and failing to pull her temper back knows it’s meant in kindness.

But the threats she’d been desperately grasping onto snap, all the same.

“I was with Vieno. And another Unit.” Her tone is flat, bordering on harsh. “Do I need your permission so you can allow me to go anywhere without you?”

She’s lashing out now. Feeling twisted up too tight, throwing barbs in the hopes of something sticking. There’s no pleasure when her words hit their mark though, no enjoyment in the way she sees him flinch. Just a building pressure under her skin, a rolling nausea in her stomach.

She hates this. Hates everything she’s feeling, but is too far in to pull back now.

He sighs as he pushes up from the couch, and she shuffles the rest of the way into the living room to take a place in front of the fireplace. Just- to give herself somewhere to stand besides the front door, so it didn’t seem like she was seconds away from bolting. She keeps her eyes on the ground though, just to find something to look at that isn’t him. Still, she feels him take a place beside her, even with the deliberate space he’s kept between them.

“I suppose we need to talk.”

“Yeah, we really do.” As if drawn by a magnet, her eyes flit in his direction, unsure of what she’ll find. Frustration on his face? Exasperation in his eyes at her attitude? She’s not being kind, it would be deserved.

She isn’t prepared for the deep crease between his pinched brows. She isn’t prepared to find him looking so incredibly sad.

“I know I didn’t handle the…situation with the Trappers properly.” He starts after a brief pause, clearly trying to gather up his thoughts. She lets herself relax, just a little. At least this seems like a step in the right direction. “Seeing them close in on you, while I was too far to help, filled me with terror. Every worst case scenario went through my mind, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

He sounds properly contrite, at least. His shoulders are drawn, hands pushed deep into his pockets. It's only her own stubbornness that keeps her from reaching out to him though. “It worked out, though.”

“That it did.” He smiles, but it’s a wobbly thing. Brittle. “All it takes is once, though. As I said, they will stoop to whatever means necessary to take you and I- I cannot bear the thought of that happening.”

“And I can’t handle sitting back, doing nothing while everyone else fights my fights.” She turns to face him now, and he mirrors her movement. “And I can’t handle you telling me what I’m allowed to do.”

“It’s our job to protect you, and we don’t mind-“

“But I do!” She snaps, cutting him off. She knows they’re making no progress. Two steps forward, three backwards. Unlike before though, she can see him trying to figure out a way to diffuse the rising tensions before they can come to head.

“We’re getting off point, and I’ve upset you again. I apologize, for then and now.” His apology soothes her annoyance, if only a little.

“Thank you.” He takes a few tentative steps forward at that, trying to close the distance. “But again, Nate, it’s not just the fight. It’s you trying to tell me what you’ll allow me to do.”

He pauses then, and she realizes he’d been hoping she’d just pass that point over in favor of being angry about everything else. “I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” He says finally, carefully, and she narrows her eyes. “I misspoke, I’m not trying to make every decision in your life.”

Just certain ones, the thought is a cranky, nasty little one. “You’re going to have to let me help. If I’m going to be part of the team, let me act like it.”

His brows furrow at that. Reaching out, hesitating just long enough to give her a chance to push him away, he cups her face in his palm. Cradling her like she’s something precious, she can’t help but lean into him as his thumb traces her cheekbone. “Being a part of a team also means accepting your limitations and allowing us to help you, though.”

Any warmth from his touch vanishes then, chilling in her veins as she shakes him off. “What does that mean?”

“I told you to hide because, at that moment, that was the best thing you could have done to help us.” His tone is gentle, but Abby knows him well enough now to know he’s picking his words with care, working up to his point in a very Nate-like way. Kind, always so kind, but unwilling to budge. “Your safety is my priority, always. At times, that means you have to be willing to let us protect you.”

He’s not listening. He’s not hearing a word she’s saying, and she can feel her anger rising again.

“I handled myself though.” She’s trying to be reasonable. To quell the part of her that wants to snap, and snarl, and fight. “I didn’t even fight, I was able to handle it my way.”

“And what if you couldn’t? What then?” Nate crosses his arms, as if he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with his hands now that she’s out of his reach once again, and Abby has never thought he looked more stubborn. “I just wish for you to be safe, is that a bad thing?”

“It is when you expect me to sit back and let my family fend for themselves!” She won’t let herself focus on the fact that was the first word that came to mind, slipping out before she could stop it. Not here, not now. Not with so much tension, or with the storm of emotions making her chest ache. Or with Nate’s face lighting up, even in the midst of her yelling at him. She’ll dissect it later, with nothing but four walls watching her and the safety of an empty room around her.

“I’m simply asking for you to trust us,” He says slowly, as if to placate her, though all it does is further stoke her temper. “I- We can handle threats against ourselves, but you-“

“You almost didn’t before!” She shouts, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Memories of Nate, battered and bruised, laying in his own blood, flash in her mind, too quick for her to block them out. As if sensing her distress, he reaches out on instinct, but she jerks back before he can make contact.

She can almost pretend like the flash of hurt on his face doesn’t make her ache.

“I was taking care of myself long before you guys showed up.” As soon as the words are out there, she wants to snatch them back. Bury them, stuffed away in the dark where they belong. Panic and embarrassment has her pacing now, too much of something buzzing just under her skin. She was prepared for fighting, yelling she- she’s not ready to see pity from him.

Because maybe, that’s the true, awful core to all of this. Why Nate’s protectiveness feels like an ill-fitting coat, clinging too tightly. So long with no one, pushed to grow up too fast. She doesn’t know how to let somebody else care for her.

Would she even want to? To let herself be that vulnerable with someone else?

And Nate knows. Of course he does. Even with ehr pacing, and her stubborn refusal to meet his eyes, she can feel him watching. Picking up on every little thing she wants to hide from him but can’t, because he’s always seen too much of her. He’s close to hovering, she’s sure, wanting to provide comfort but unsure how. The thought makes her cross her arms, as if she can make herself a smaller target.

That’s what makes him finally move, though. A gentle hand on her arm to stop her in her tracks, providing a warmth she can feel even through her layers of clothes.

“You shouldn’t have had to.” He sounds so soft, so sure of himself. Steady, where she’s drifting. “And if I could, I would mend that for you. But you don’t have to now.”

Let me care, the words are there. Unspoken, left to hang between them, but there nonetheless. I would if you’d let me. I want to.

And it would be so easy to let him. To drop her guard and let him in. To let him take the few final pieces of her heart she has hidden away, because he’s already taken the rest. Given to him willingly the first time they’d kissed

She could.

She wants-

I won’t allow you.

But she won’t. Can’t.

“Well, I did.” She cuts through the silence that had grown between them with sharp precision. Squaring her shoulders, she turns to face him, trying not to miss his touch as his hand slips away, and forces herself to meet his gaze head-on. Whatever he sees when he looks at her has his shoulders slumping, ever so slightly. “Which means I don’t need you panicking over every little thing that could potentially go wrong, or you deciding what I’m allowed to do.”

There’s a rare flash of frustration in his eyes, there too fast for him to be able to tuck it out of her sight. “It’s not about permission, Abigail.”

“That’s exactly what all of this has been about!” She snaps, barely resisting the urge to yank on her hair in frustration and instead settles for pulling at her sleeves to give her something to dig her nails into. Her tone is rising again and she can’t stop. This is falling apart in front of her, too fast for her to do anything but embrace the inevitable crash waiting for her at the end. “You’re trying to tell me what you’ll allow me to do, stressing over things that might happen. None of this is going to work if you don’t trust me to know my own limits.”

“You ask me to trust you, yet you have an alarming pattern of paying little regard to your own wellbeing. So forgive me if I’m inclined to doubt your choices.” His tone is harsher than she’s ever heard it, words sharp enough to make her wince. He notices, immediately softening as he scrambles to backtrack. “I care about you Abby. So much.”

That’s all this is about. Everything it boils down to. But it’s not enough to fix anything. And that realization has her deflating, a sadness creeping in to replace the anger.

“But I’m human.” It’s a quiet sort of admission. One that hurts, because it doesn’t matter what she does in the end. How much she prepares herself, or tries to help. She’s still the weak link, and Nate will always treat her as such.

Half a dozen emotions flicker across his face in that instance, almost too fast for her to recognize. Fear. Frustration. Affection. Something- something heavier, deeper than the others, and she feels her heart thumping painfully against her ribs.

“That-“ He cuts himself off, tearing his gaze away to look at the wall. There’s something more there, that much she’s certain of. Something he’s barely bitten back, and part of her wants to grab him. Shake him and demand an answer, an explanation, anything to tell her she’s wrong. “You are.”

Nothing more. No deeper answer. Just a heavy hearted agreement, that hurts more than her own words had.

A bitter part of her wonders why she expected anything any different.

The fight leaves her as quickly as it had come. The exhaustion of everything suddenly presses down on her with such a fierceness that she’s left aching. So she crosses her arms again, like she can hold herself together a little while longer as she shuffles backwards. Desperate to space between them.

“I can’t do this right now.” She’s speaking more to herself than to him at this point, turning towards the door. “I can’t- I need to go.”

“Abby?” There’s a thread of alarm in his voice now, and she hears his muffled footsteps on the carpet as he keeps pace behind her. “Wait, we can talk-“

“All we’ve been doing is talking, Nate. And I’m done.” There’s a hollowness in her, like something carved out a piece of her, and she rubs her chest as if she can massage the ache away. A chill has seeped through her clothes, settling all the way down to the tips of her fingers, and she chooses to blame it on the lack of sleep.

“Please.” It’s one word, practically begged, but it’s enough to make her stall. Enough to have her spare one more glance at him. Frozen halfway from touching her, panic and desperation have brought a sheen to his usually warm eyes. Torn between having her stay, and afraid of pushing her further away has him teetering on an edge. “Please, stay?”

It hurts. So much, more than it should, and it isn’t fair. Leaving him like this, when a part of her wants to turn around and let him soothe away everything. Let herself be lost in him awhile and pretend like everything is fine between them. To take the easy path.

But she knows how that will end. Another fight, sooner rather than later. She knows she can’t keep burying things away, as much as he wants to when things get tough.

So she shakes her head, pulling the door open and forcing herself to look away before he can notice the tears she can feel burning her eyes. “I just need some time, okay? Give me some space.”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer. She can’t, not if she’s going to keep her resolve. So she leaves, letting the door slam closed behind her. And maybe, everything will feel a little less painful when the sun rises.

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3