#Abby Anderson x Reader

[vampirq]

⋆ ࣪ ִֶָ . ❀ HOW TLOU + ARCANE WOMEN BRAT TAME YOU.

contain characters: abby anderson. ellie williams. dina woodward. sevika. vi. caitlynn kiramann. mel medarda

3.4k words total, not proofread.

tags: dom! abby. hair pulling. praise. strap-on sex. overstimulation. major teasing. strap referred to as ‘dick.’ mean! ellie. dom! sevika. fingering. edging. grinding. finger sucking. usage of ‘daddy.’ spanking. cunt slapping. oral. thigh riding.

note: yeah .. this is just filth. i’m sorry for any typos or over usage of words, writing this sucked the life out of me.

ABBY ANDERSON

you’ve been pestering abby all night in the kitchen. holding things away from her so she can’t grab them, mocking her when she asks you to do something, even talking back to her. 

abby didn’t feed into too much though. she’d just tell you to ‘cut it out’ or shoot you a warning look and continue cooking. but you weren’t satisfied. you wanted to see her break, see her far you could push her til she had enough. 

so you did just that. 

“what? you gonna glare at me all night, or are you actually gonna do something about it?” you mutter, your voice bitter but that feeling deep down is far from it.

“you’re funny, real funny, babe.” abby stifles a laugh, her tongue poking at her cheek. disappointed with her response, you roll your eyes in frustration, keeping your eyes focused on the way her biceps flex each time she slices an onion. 

you move behind her, your nose adjacent with her neck. your lips press against it then, your tongue licks a messy stripe down to her collarbone. the salt and alcohol from her perfume collecting in your mouth. “mm, you taste good. but you probably already knew that, huh?” 

she lets out a low groan, dropping the knife; a loud clang echoing throughout the room. her hands grip onto the counter while her head hangs between the shoulders, shifting on her feet. 

you open your mouth to say another snarky remark, but they fall on silent lips, choosing to watch her instead.

in a minute, her body turns to yours, her hands rested on your hips and backing you towards a wall. she has a look in her eye, and you can’t differentiate it from frustration or desire. maybe both. maybe neither. maybe she’s just done.

her body clashes with yours. her forearm resting on the wall, the other toying with your waistband.  “you wanna tell me what’s got you acting like this?” her voice is deep, stern, and you know you’ve got her right where you want her. “was me fucking you senseless last night not enough?”

“guess not.” you snap back, earning a growl from abby. 

she lets out another dry laugh and shakes her head. bringing her gaze back up to you, her lips inches apart from yours. “you’ve got five minutes to get on the bed. ass up. naked, and i better not see you touching yourself, understand?” her tone is harsh, it makes you gulp, an inch of fear washing over you.

—

“ngghh, fuck, abby! i can’t, can’t take it—“ your words are cut off with a loud moan. nails digging into the cotton sheets beneath you. 

abby’s pace increases at your pleas. her hips driving into you with more force.  people were not lying when they said her back shots sound like gunshots. “come on, baby. take this dick, fuck yeah.” her head tilts back, a low whine leaving her lips. 

strings of her name tumble out of your mouth like a sacred song. feeling your mind grow foggy as her tip kisses your cervix. your chest lays flat against the bed, the support from your arms being taken away from abby. her hand grabbing both of your arms and holding them behind your back. 

“oh? where’s that attitude now, princess?” the grip she has on you tightens, using it as leverage to pound into you deeper. “‘cause all i hear are a buncha pretty moans.” 

you feel your legs shake, eyes rolling to the back of your head. any attempt at words would just come out inaudible, resulting in a plethora of lewd noises. you couldn’t tell abby you were close, but she knew, she alwaysknew. 

“can feel you squeezing my cock. make a mess all over me, pretty girl.” her permission is the only thing you needed to gush all over the sheets. your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, sudden and intense. 

she fucks you through it, talking to you and praising you. the grip she had on your arms were gone, but now it was on your hips. her tempo changed from fast, sharp to slow and deep. it allowed you to feel every inch of her easing in and out of you.

the overstimulation came quickly, causing you to thrash and whine. “a-abby, it’s too much. fuck! m’ sorry, won’t be mean again.” you beg, but it’s no use. her hold on you only tightens and she shows no signs of letting up. 

“bullshit, baby. c’mon give me one more, yeah?” 

ELLIE WILLIAMS

you’ve had the biggest attitude all day, and it simply couldn’t be helped. you distanced yourself from ellie, had an underlying tone of annoyance in your words, and gave short responses  when talking. this wasn’t unlike you for this to happen, but ellie was still bothered by it. 

so whenever the two of you returned home from your outing, she sat down on the couch and called you over. reluctantly, you gave in and straddled her lap just like she wanted. 

“alright, c’mon baby. tell me what’s going on.” ellie says, tilting her head to the side and keeping her eyes locked on yours. her hand trailing up your outer thigh, and tracing small shapes. 

“nothing.” your voice comes out blunt and uninterested, shifting your gaze from hers to the wall. 

ellie takes your chin in her pointer finger and thumb. she doesn’t look convinced, her brows furrowed, lips forming into a thin line. you yank your head out of her grip with an exasperated groan. attempting to come off as unbothered, but she sees it in a much different way. 

her eyes darken at your insolence, finding herself grow more impatient with you. her fingers pinch a chunk of your thigh, resulting in a whine and a string of complaints from you. 

“ow, ellie! what the fuck is wro—“ 

“lose the attitude, and talk to me properly. what’s going on with you today?” the grip she has on your thigh tightens, grounding you from any distractions. her stern voice brings out that feeling in your lower stomach, and it takes everything in you to not drop the act completely.

“nothing. i’m just, i don’t know. frustrated?” your eyes fall onto her lips then her biceps. ellie notices immediately, her hardened expression turning into an intrigued one. 

“oh. oh, i see, baby.” she smirks, moving her hand to your jaw and pulling you closer. “you just need me to set that pretty head straight, yeah?” 

your lips part to protest, but you can’t find the words, leaving you silent and dumbfounded. you shift in her lap to relieve the tingly sensation coming from your cunt, but it just earns a chuckle from ellie. 

“that’s what i thought,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side your neck. her hands pull you closer to her, one arm wrapped around your waist the other settled on your jaw. “you act up when you need me. huh, is that it?” 

your cheeks burn at how easily she can see through you. that little persona was nothing but a glass window to her, but you don’t respond. instead, rolling your hips against her lap in search of friction, but ellie’s hands are on you in an instant, keeping you still.

“nah, baby.” her head shakes from side to side, voice becoming low and gravelly. “you don’t get to be a brat all day then take what you want.” 

a frustrated whines leaves your lips, and ellie grins, clearly enjoying this way too much. her hand pulls your shorts and underwear over, exposing your glistening cunt to her. she nearly drools at the sight, dragging a finger through your sopping slit. 

you grind into her hand again, and this time she lets you, thrusting her middle finger in your pussy and feeling your velvety walls clench on her. her wrist moves up and down, keeping her eyes focused on your face. she can tell you’re pleased, but it’s not enough and before you could do anything else, she pulls her hand away. 

“ellie, i— why would you do that?” you pout, giving her those sweet doe eyes. 

she pouts back but with faux sympathy. a hint of arrogance in her tone. “you wanted to act like you run shit, baby. can’t give you everything you want.” 

but eventually she does, and it was worth every second of waiting.

DINA WOODWARD

you’re pushing dina’s buttons tonight— rolling your eyes, scoffing at every little thing she says. you don’t even remember what you said exactly, but whatever it was, it made something inside of her flip.

her expression shifts. the teasing, easy-going glint in her eyes turn sharper. she turns around to face you, each step she takes forward, it’s one you take back until you hit the wall. 

she’s in front of you now— her brown baby hairs tickling the sides of your face. you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, and it only draws you in more. 

you don’t realize she’s talking until her eyes meet yours. “.. think you’re all talk? are you even listening to me right now, babe?” she questions, her voice is condescending but gentle. 

you try to hold your ground, looking past her instead of into her. anything to avoid the confrontation you set yourself up for. but her smirk only widens, planting a hand beside your head and taking your chin in her grasp. 

“you wanted my attention so bad, but now that you’ve got it, you’re silent.” her eyes scan your face, a chuckle surpassing her lips. you feel small under her gaze as if she was belittling you without even trying. 

you glare at her, but your breath stutters when her hand trails along your waist, and her thigh spilts your legs apart. the denim material of her jeans rub against your cunt, and it takes everything in you to not rut against her.

she watches you writhe under her, your muscles tensing to prevent yourself from submitting to her. “what?” her nose ghosts over your jaw, her lips are close to your skin, but not close enough to connect. “had such a mouth on you earlier. sweetheart, what happened?” 

“you act all tough, run your mouth, but the second i get my hands on you?” her low smug chuckle adds to the tension. “s’ like you forgot how to speak.” 

your stomach twists, heat curling and twisting inside of you. fuck, you hate that she’s right. how she could get you pleading with nothing but her voice. you shift on your feet to regain composure, but that was a big mistake. ‘cause now dina’s grinding her thigh into you, pushing your hips down so you have no choice but to take it. 

“y’know, maybe i should fix that.” she muses, like she was actually considering it. “maybe i should stretch you open nice and slow, make you ride my fingers ‘til your begging me to let you cum.”

a small whimper tumbles out of your lips, growing into a moan as she applies more pressure. 

“or maybe, i should take my time with you. keep you on the edge, fucking you but not in the way you want it, make you earn it..” she drags out her words like she’s picturing it. “yeah, think that’s what i’ll do.” 

she presses a deep, loving kiss to the pressure point below you ear, but before you could savor the moment, she pulls away. 

she straightens up, eyes twinkling with amusement at your fucked-out face. then proceed to chirp, “anyways, i’m gonna go get a drink. need anything?” 

you don’t respond, you stand there. staring and trying to process everything that just happened, yet she just grins and throws you a wink over her shoulder before walking off. 

SEVIKA

“keep counting, slut.” sevika’s voice echoes throughout the walls of your shared bedroom, blending with the sharp crack of her palm against your bare ass. 

“f-five,” you manage, voice broken and shaky. your legs jerk up when another smack lands—harder this time, ripping a whine from your throat.

the globes of your ass were painted a nice red. each slap stinging more than the last— a new found arousal pooled out of you and onto her hand. she uses your slick as lube, coating it in her finger and thrusting into your sopping hole. 

“ohh, fuck! you feel so good, vika,” she silences your moans with her fingers, stuffing her middle and ring into your mouth. 

“i know, baby. daddy just makes you feel good even when you don’t deserve it, yeah?” her voice, her touch, it intoxicates you, your mind being filled with nothing but sevika. each touch of hers feels electric. the sensitivity on your cunt spiking due to her spanking.

she lets out a low chuckle at the way your tongue swirls around fingers, greedily sucking them into your mouth. she pushes them further into you, her knuckles colliding with your lips. then, pulling them out slowly, smearing it all over your chin before landing a soft slap to your cheek. 

“so needy for me,” she murmurs, her fingers never faltering as they plunge into you again. her other hand finds your throat, wrapping around it, just firm enough to make your breath hitch. “this is what you wanted, huh? to be fucked stupid? to let me turn you into my perfect little fucktoy?”

you hum, nodding weakly, your lashes wet, eyes heavy—but they roll back completely when she curls her fingers just right.

she slams harder into you, deeper. her fingertips kissing your g spot with every thrust. your legs start to shake, and the grip you have on the sheets tightens. broken noises of sevika’s name tumbling out of your mouth. 

but she stops, and it’s so abrupt you start tearing up. 

“oh doll, don’t cry.” she coos with faux sympathy, sarcasm dripping in her words. “you’ll get your fill soon enough.” 

her palm strikes your ass again, the impact sending a jolt straight to your cunt. she watches it jiggle, drags her fingers over the heated skin, eyes dark with amusement.

“but i didn’t say stop counting, did i?”

VI

“oh, come on, vi. that’s all you got?” you tease, your wrists are pinned firmly above your head. you’ll admit, it’s actually pretty hard to move considering the amount of force she’s using, but she doesn’t need to know that. “seems pretty weak to me, love.” 

vi’s face darken at your words, her pupils draining the color from her eyes. her brows twitch, jaw tightens, and she exhales a slow breath, like she’s trying real hard to be patient. 

“you done?” her voice is steady and firm, her eyes glued onto your face, watching for any signs of regret. but there is none, and she knows that when she sees the corner of your lips quirk up in a smile. 

“nop—“ before you could get the word out, you were flipped onto your stomach. your face smushed against the pillows, vi’s arm wrapped around your waist, restraining any sudden movements. then, her palm strikes down hard on your ass, the sharp slap echoing throughout the room. 

“yeah?” another slap. harder, hotter. “still wanna talk shit?”

your breath shudders, body tensing under her. stubbornly, you bite down on your bottom lip to hold back a whimper. bad call. ‘cause now, she’s doing anything she can to draw out those noises from you. 

you feel the grip on your hips shift to the back of your thighs. her lips ghost over your clothed cunt,  grazing over the soaked material. “shit, baby. you’re so fucking wet. is all this from being thrown around?” she questions, but you don’t respond. so she tries gain with a different approach— pulling your panties to the side and licking a firm stripe up your folds. 

that’s what gets you to break, a small whine leaving your lips. you press your hips back on her, chasing more pleasure than what she’s giving you. she lets you use her for a bit, lets you move your hips in a circle on her tongue, even prodding your hole with it. but it’s not long ‘til she backs away. 

“you want my mouth, don’t you?” she asks, tone mocking and condescending. still, you don’t respond. she lands a sharp slap to your cunt, the juices stringing off of her fingers. “what was that? didn’t hear you, babe.” 

your pride cracks, the urge to be fucked taking over your stubbornness. “yes, yes— please just touch me.” your cheeks heat up at your own words, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. 

she smirks at that. using her thumbs to spread apart your hole, watching it clench from her touch. she sucks in a breath, her tongue coating her lips in saliva. her lips dance over your folds again, but this time she submerged her mouth in your pussy. the word “good girl.” humming against your aching core.

CAITLYNN KIRAMANN

caitlyn’s been nose deep in her books all day, barely sparing a glance at you. it’s frustrating, all you wanted was some attention from her and she wasn’t even giving you that. so, you took matters into your own hands. 

you strode over to the lounge chair she was sitting in, your footfalls light to not disturb her reading. your body stood huffing in front of her, and she didn’t even look up. you lifted her hands up from her book and sat down in her lap. 

“need something?” she asks, her posh accent breaking through. 

yeah, your fucking attention. you thought, but remained quiet, only giving her a small hum in response. she wrapped her arm around your torso and rested her head over shoulder, continuing to read that stupid book.

you shift in her lap, finding the spot that catches your clit perfectly, and when you do, strings of small whines pour out of your lips. caitlyn notices but doesn’t say anything, instead she bounces her leg to increase the pleasure. 

“c-cait,” you whine, biting down on her shoulder to silence your moans. the pace of your hips grinding against her picks up. “cait, please. i, i need you.” 

she gives you a hum of acknowledgement, but still paying you no mind. you start to get irritated, she had a whole girl in her lap, yet she was focused on some words on a paper. your whimpers grow more louder, more needy in hopes of her giving you what you want. but when your kisses and bites start becoming intense, she breaks. 

the book slams shut, the sound of it hitting the floor is like music to your ears. her head lifts up off her shoulder to meet your eyes. her composed face being a huge contrast to your desperate, pleading one. 

“darling, you couldn’t even wait until i was finished?” she muses, tilting her head and sharpening her eyes. “had to come grind in my lap like a poor dog in heat?” 

you know she’s talking down at you, but you can’t help the small moan that escapes your lips.  “m’ sorry. just wanted you’re attention, s’ all.” your words are slurred as your orgasm builds up, using the small amount of strength to keep your eyes open. 

“i know, baby, i know.” her hand comes up to cup your jaw and draws your face closer to hers. “i’ll help you, sweetheart. make you feel real good.”

MEL MEDARDA

“you know, maybe if you weren’t sitting around looking pretty all day, you’d actually know how to fuck me properly.” the words tumble out faster than you expected, earning a raised eyebrow from mel. 

she sits her wine glass on the table, and gets up to make her way over to you. each step she takes is calculated, deliberate, and it makes you start to regret your words. her frame stands in front of you, her hazel eyes piercing down into yours. 

“repeat yourself, dear. go ahead.” she tilts her head when she talks to you. 

your throat bobs, and your mouth goes dry. but you square shoulders, refusing to let her see the effect she has on you. “you heard me.” 

mel huns, a soft knowing sound, as if she’s already bored of this game you’re playing. then she leans down, hands settling on each side of you, caging you in the couch.

“i did,” her voice is still silk, still calm, but there’s something different about her tone. it has a underlying tone of danger, warning. her fingers trace along your jaw. her touch is featherlight and delicate like you’ll break from the slightest amount of pressure. 

“so tell me, love—“ she takes your jaw in hand, forcing your eyes to meet hers. “—how exactly would you like to be fucked?” 

your breath catches, body tensing under her touch, but she doesn’t give you time to answer before her hand slides between your thighs. her touch is light, barely there—nothing more than a ghost of pressure on your clothed core.

“like this?” she asks, mocking, her fingers glide up and down at torturous pace. “soft? slow?” 

you look up at her with half lidded eyes, her words hanging heavy in your head. her grip tightens—the warmth of her hand suddenly gone, only to be replaced with a sharp slap to your inner thigh. you flinch, and mel just smiles, tilting her head as if she’s studying you. 

“or maybe—” she leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice nothing but a whisper, ”—you’d prefer i throw you over this couch and remind you exactly what i’m capable of?”

your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your gut, but you force yourself to hold your ground, lips curling into a smirk.

“talk is cheap, mel.”

her expression doesn’t change—not at first. but then, slowly, a smirk of her own tugs at her lips.

“oh, darling—” she breathes, her fingers suddenly wrapping around your throat, firm, tilting your head back against the cushions.

her thumb presses just right, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make your head spin.

”—you should know by now that i never just talk.”

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[angelsforthenight]

size difference kink with abby ^_^

“shhh, stay still.” she’d whisper in your ear, akin to saccharine sweetness. her words hardly register in your brain however, not with the way her thick fingers are stretching you out, plowing into your weeping pussy. a series of jolts and shudders wreck through your body and she hasn’t even started properly thrusting yet.

“abs, i-i can’t—“

“yes you can. you can take it, pretty girl.” abby didn’t even need to let you finish your sentence to know what you were whining about. especially with the way you’re gripping her wrist, trying to get her to stop.

“you’re fine, just hold it.” abby’s voice takes a more firm stance, getting you to try and stop squirming. you gaze up at her with glassy eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a needy manner. abby merely smiles, leaning in to press her lips against yours. with the sloppy and slow way you two are kissing it’s easy to get distracted, and abby doesn’t fail to take advantage of that: pushing her bulky fingers in even deeper, and you can feel the ridges against your fluttering walls. you gasp sharply against her lips.

“there we go…” abby drawls quietly, easing her fingers in and out. “look how she’s taking me so well. told you.”

you keen, legs whorishly spreading wider. abby giggles at the sight, all bell-like and silvery like a tune. you should thank the stars everyday that you have a girlfriend like abby.

it doesn’t take very long at all for your arousal to start oozing out, dousing abby’s meaty fingers and making the room fill with lewd squelchy noises, paired with the sounds of your choked gasps and whimpers.

abby comforts you by pressing chaste kisses on your shoulder, whispering sweet little nothings into your skin like a prayer. eventually, things to the point where you can feel nothing but the onslaught of pleasure — eyes rolling to the back of your head, unable to say how close you are. abby’s okay with that, especially when she can simply know by the telltale flutters of your walls around her fingers.

[rhyrhy]

Thinking about older!Married!Neighbor! Abby and the elementary teacher who lives a few doors down….

[ Contains:] infidelity implied, marital issues, blurb

Moving to Washington was nice. The neighborhood was quiet. White picket fence. Shiny rock on her finger. A warm bed, talks of future kids, and kisses on the cheek. But even with all that, Abby couldn’t help herself. Not when you were there. Almost every. Single. Morning.

Married Abby! who first noticed you on a run. Headband, ponytail, and an ass that just made her—ugh.

“Coming!” she called back out, ripping her eyes away from the kitchen window.

To whom? Her wife. Sweet Amanda. High school sweetheart. Love of her life. Well, that’s what she told herself. Who was she kidding? It’s been rocky since the move.

The truth was, Abby had agreed to the move because Amanda wanted to be closer to her family. But Abby’s dad was sick. She needed to be here, to help, to take care of what mattered—her family. When she tried to explain that, it spiraled like it always did.

“So my family’s less important now?” Amanda snapped, arms crossed over her chest.

Abby exhaled sharply, already exhausted. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“Come on, Amanda,” Abby ran a hand down her face, jaw tight. “I’ve done everything to make this move work for you. You wanted the suburbs, the perfect house, the perfect life—”

“For us, Abby. Not just me.”

Abby scoffed. “Really? Because it feels like every time I bring up my dad, it’s suddenly a problem.”

Amanda shook her head, biting back frustration. “It’s not a problem, it’s just—what about our future? You spend all your time working or worrying about your dad. Where do I fit into that?”

The arguments piled on top of each other, never-ending, circling back to the same, tired place. Cold dinner plates. Unfulfilled, half-hearted attempts at intimacy. And, worse, lonely nights spent rubbing one out to try to release something. Since her wife was always “not in the mood.”

But no matter how hard she tried to push you out of her mind, she couldn’t. You. Sweating in the sun, that warm glow on your face. The small bounce of your ass in those tight black leggings as you passed her large kitchen window.

Jesus, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.

Married Abby! Who’s worked under Graves Electrical ever since she was a girl, soaking up her father’s teachings. Now, a few weeks settled, known as ‘Miss Fix It,’ a well-known figure in the neighborhood, called for all sorts of emergency repairs.

She used to have her sore muscles rubbed on by doting Amanda. But now? Epsom salt and a bath she’d fall asleep in more often than the actual bed became her best friend.

Married Abby! Knew a little about you, aside from how her body reacted when you passed by. Seeing you come home with a basket full of what looked like school supplies—crayons, Elmer’s glue—combined with the sticker on your car bumper that read, “Teaching is a work of heart,” with a drawn apple. she put it together fairly quick.

It was sickeningly sweet compared to the gloomy cloud hanging over her own household. Unlike her, no ring on your finger. Just colorful clothes, gel-polished nails, and fitted workout clothes that drove her nuts.

The only thing sicker than your positivity? The fact that her wife was the one to show you the property you came home to at 4:15 on the dot, Monday through Friday.

And what almost broke her resolve completely? Yesterday morning.

You stood at her door, smiling, something wrapped in tinfoil in hand—coming to thank Amanda for helping you move in now that you were settled. The low-cut floral dress made her grip the doorframe a little tighter.

“Hi,” she forced out, clearing her throat. “Can I help you?”

[misaerabl]

WHERE THE COFFEE IS ALWAYS HOT

(Diner Owner Abby x Single Mom Reader Headcanons / Inspired by Luke Danes and Lorelai Gilmore from Gilmore Girls)

!!Includes SFW and NSFW!! CW: wc... 2.7k - hc's, fluff, rough, real long and dirty tbh, mentions of both of you having partners before getting together, tension, morning sex, diner counter fucking, shower sex, face sitting, fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (a!receiving) mostly top butch abby

SFW

Grumpy Abby, Sunshine You: Abby Anderson—the butch, no-nonsense, grease-stained, and flannel-clad diner owner—is known for her deadpan humor, perpetual scowl, and habit of cleaning a perfectly clean countertop just to avoid small talk. Meanwhile, you’re the charming, chatty regular who somehow worms your way into her life. You stroll in every morning, all bright-eyed with your kid in tow, talking her ear off about your chaotic work schedule or your latest attempt at cooking something other than boxed mac and cheese. Abby pretends to be annoyed, tossing out a gruff, “You ever shut up?” but she secretly looks forward to your rambling.

Saturday Breakfast Tradition: Every Saturday morning, you and your 9-year-old daughter settle into your usual booth—the one near the window, where the sun hits perfectly. Your kid demands a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a pancake shaped like a dinosaur (even though it always ends up looking more like a deformed blob). Abby, with a playful eye roll, dutifully delivers, never once mentioning how misshapen the pancake actually is. She even drizzles syrup around it like a moat, just to make your daughter giggle.

You and Abby have your own language of banter, a constant push-and-pull that keeps everyone in the diner entertained.

You: “Is the coffee supposed to be this bitter, or is this just a reflection of your personality?” Abby: (deadpan) “You want sugar or are you just gonna keep being a pain in my ass?” You: (grinning) “What’s the difference?” Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smirk, but you catch the subtle dimples anyway.

Your kid picks up on the playful bickering and joins in.

Your daughter: (innocently) “Abby, why are you always so grumpy?” Abby: (mock scowl) “Because some kid makes me make weird pancakes every week.” Your daughter: (smugly) “You love it.”

Late-Night Diner Visits: On your worst days, you find yourself at the diner long after closing. Abby, still wiping down tables in her usual rolled-up sleeves and worn-out jeans, lets you in without a word. She makes you a grilled cheese and sits with you in the dimly lit diner, quietly nursing a beer while you vent about work or single-parent struggles. She never says much, just listens with a steady presence. When you get too tired to talk, she squeezes your hand, calloused fingers firm but gentle, and you swear she holds on just a little longer than necessary.

The Handywoman:

Abby, ever the butch handyman, becomes your unofficial repairwoman. When your kitchen sink leaks or your window frame sticks, she’s at your place with her toolbox before you even finish describing the problem. She grumbles under her breath the whole time—mocking your “shoddy” faucet and declaring your window “a lost cause”—but she fixes it anyway. You offer to pay her, but she just smirks and says, “You cook. I fix. Deal?”

You often come home to find tiny repairs you didn’t even ask for—a newly patched wall, a freshly oiled door hinge. She never mentions it, but you always notice.

Abby and Your Kid: Abby is a total softie for your daughter. She teaches her how to tie proper knots, use a wrench, and change a bike tire. Your kid starts bragging to her friends, proudly declaring, “My mom’s friend can fix anything.” Sometimes, Abby lets her help at the diner—letting her sprinkle cheese on burgers or pretend to take your order with a notepad.

When your daughter gets sick, Abby shows up with a fresh batch of soup and a stuffed dinosaur she won at the county fair, grumbling about how she “just had it lying around,” even though you’re pretty sure she spent an hour trying to win it.

Jealous Abby: The first time you go on a date, Abby is grumpier than usual. She slams plates onto tables a little too hard and glares at the poor bastard sitting across from you through the diner window. When you return, she doesn’t ask how it went. Instead, she casually mutters, “Your taste in men sucks.”

The Girlfriend Phase: For a brief, painful period, Abby dates someone. The woman is conventionally pretty—stylish, delicate hands, perfect makeup—and she clearly doesn’t like you. She gives you the cold shoulder and glares when she catches Abby sneaking smiles at you from behind the counter.

One night, you find Abby on your porch, beer in hand, freshly broken up. “She didn’t like the people I care about,” she mutters. She won’t meet your eyes, but her knuckles brush yours on the porch swing, and you feel your heart stutter.

The First Kiss: It happens after months of unresolved tension—after late-night repair visits, lingering stares, and brushes of her fingers against yours. One evening, Abby is fixing a leaky faucet in your kitchen, sleeves rolled up, arms slick with water. When she finally finishes, she leans back on her heels and grins smugly.

“What would you do without me?” she teases, wiping her hands on a rag.

Without thinking, you grab her wrist and tug her toward you. You kiss her—slow, lingering, and deliberate. Abby freezes for half a second before she melts into you, hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. When you pull back, breathless, she presses her forehead against yours and chuckles softly.

“Finally,” she whispers, before kissing you again.

Your Daughter’s Adorable Reaction: You try to be subtle at first, keeping your newfound relationship quiet. But your daughter catches you sooner than expected. One morning, she strolls into the kitchen and finds Abby pressed against the counter, your hands in her hair, lips locked.

Your daughter: (deadpan) “Umm… are you guys kissing?” You and Abby freeze, eyes wide. Abby: (awkwardly) “Uh… yeah.” Your daughter just shrugs and grins. “Cool. Does this mean Abby can sleep over all the time now?”

NSFW

Kitchen Counter Chaos: One night, you stop by the diner after hours to thank Abby for fixing your broken window. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, she’s pinning you to the counter, her strong arms bracketing you in. Her rough hands slide under your shirt, tugging it over your head, and her mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You dig your fingers into her short hair as she pulls your legs around her waist, her hips grinding against yours. The countertop digs into your back, but you barely notice with her between your thighs.

Lazy Morning Sex: When Abby sleeps over, she wakes early but doesn’t leave the bed. Instead, she rolls you onto your stomach, pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder blades. Her hand slowly drifts beneath your shirt, palm splayed across your stomach, fingers trailing lower. She takes her time, slow and deliberate, until you’re trembling beneath her.

Possessive Words: After confessing how jealous you were of her ex, Abby pins you against the wall, her breath hot against your ear. “You could’ve just said you wanted me,” she murmurs darkly before kissing you roughly. Her fingers curl around the back of your neck, voice low and possessive. “You’re mine. Got it?”

Sweaty, Greasy, & Gorgeous:

You have a not-so-secret thing for Abby fresh from working—a grease stain on her cheek, arms flexing in her white tank. She’s halfway through kicking off her boots when you grab her by the tool belt and pull her onto the couch, kissing her hard enough to make her groan against your lips, and everytime without fail, it ends in you on your knees, face buried between her legs as your toungue laps on her pussy.

Rough, Desperate, Can’t-Wait Sex:

One night, after the diner closes, you’re helping Abby clean up. You’re wiping down a table, and she’s behind the counter, her gaze dark and heavy as she watches you bend over ever so slightly. The tension is palpable—the kind that’s been simmering for weeks. Finally, she snaps. Without a word, she grabs your wrist and drags you into the back storage room. She slams the door shut and presses you against the wall, her lips crashing against yours with raw, unrestrained hunger.

Her hands are rough and desperate as they push your pants down, knuckles grazing your thighs. Her mouth is on your neck, biting and sucking, leaving faint bruises as she growls low against your skin. “Why do you have to be so damn gorgeous?” she pants, voice husky. She doesn’t waste time with teasing—she’s already dropping to her knees, lips trailing down your stomach as she hooks your legs over her shoulders, holding you in place with a bruising grip.

Her mouth is hot and relentless, making you squirm against the wall. When you tug at her hair, she groans into you, the vibration making you shudder. Her fingers are rough with callouses as they curl inside you, moving with purpose. She doesn't stop until your legs are shaking and you’re clinging to her broad shoulders, gasping her name like a prayer.

Kitchen Table:

It’s late, and Abby’s at your place after fixing your leaky faucet. She’s still in her flannel, the sleeves rolled up, and she’s leaning against your counter, arms crossed, watching you with a lazy smirk. You’re leaning over the kitchen table, cleaning up your daughter’s craft supplies, when you feel her warm breath against your neck.

“You should’ve asked me to fix you instead,” she mutters, voice low and gravelly.

Before you can retort, her hands are on your hips, guiding you back against her. She’s firm but careful, holding you in place, her lips teasing along the shell of your ear. When you push your hips back against her, she groans, hands tightening possessively.

She bends you over the kitchen table, sliding your shorts down with slow, deliberate movements. Her hands are rough—calloused and slightly scraped from all the repair work—and they feel so good gripping your thighs. She doesn’t hold back, fingers thrusting into you with an almost punishing pace, making you gasp and clutch the edge of the table.

Her voice is gravelly in your ear as she mutters, “You take it so fucking good for me.” When you moan her name, she smirks against your neck and growls, “Louder. Let me hear you.”

Over the Diner Counter:

You show up at the diner after hours, wearing one of Abby’s flannels over nothing but your underwear. She’s leaning against the counter, cleaning a mug, but her eyes lock onto you the second you walk in. Her pupils darken as she slowly sets the mug down, wiping her hands on a rag.

“You’re gonna regret that,” she mutters darkly, her voice low and raspy.

You saunter over, leaning against the counter, giving her a teasing smirk. Before you know it, she’s grabbing your wrist and hauling you over the counter. Your back hits the cool surface as she wedges herself between your legs, pulling the flannel open with one swift tug. Her lips are on you instantly—hot, possessive kisses that leave you breathless.

She doesn’t waste time. Her hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, squeezing your hips. When she pushes two fingers into you, she watches your face with that cocky, satisfied smirk. “You’re so wet for me already,” she growls against your jaw. Her pace is rough and unrelenting, her fingers moving with purpose, hitting that spot that makes you arch off the counter.

When you whimper her name, she grips your jaw, forcing you to look at her. “Eyes on me, baby,” she commands, her voice rough with need. She doesn’t let you look away, holding your gaze as she makes you fall apart beneath her.

Shower Sex – Steamy and Wet:

After a long, sweaty day at the diner, Abby shows up at your place. Her white tank is clinging to her back, her hair damp from running her hands through it, and she smells faintly of motor oil and wood smoke. You drag her into the shower without a second thought, stripping her down and pulling her under the hot spray.

The second the water hits her skin, she’s all over you—backing you against the tiles, her lips trailing down your wet skin. She drops to her knees, her hands spreading your thighs apart, and she kisses the inside of your thighs with slow, teasing nips. When you whine her name, she smirks up at you, droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes.

Her tongue is slow and deliberate at first—long, languid strokes that make your legs tremble. When you clutch her damp hair, she groans against you, gripping your hips tighter. Her fingers leave bruises on your thighs as she holds you still, devouring you with a maddening rhythm that makes your legs buckle.

When you tug her up by her wet hair, desperate for her lips, she presses you into the wall and slides her thigh between your legs. Her voice is rough in your ear as she growls, “Ride me.” The friction of her strong thigh against you is almost too much, and when she grips your ass with both hands, pulling you harder against her, you come undone with a cry muffled by her kiss.

Wall-Fucking, Abby Style:

You show up at the diner wearing a little sundress—short enough to drive Abby absolutely feral. She watches you flit around the place, talking to other customers, flashing smiles that should be hers. By the time you get up to leave, Abby’s practically vibrating with jealousy.

The second you’re out of sight, she grabs your wrist and drags you into the alley behind the diner. She presses you against the brick wall, caging you in with her broad frame. Her lips crash against yours, hot and possessive.

“You like driving me crazy, huh?” she mutters against your mouth.

Her hands yank up your dress, bunching the fabric at your waist. She hikes your leg around her hip, her strong thigh pressing between yours. Her fingers are rough and desperate as they slide inside you, and she growls low in your ear,

“You’re mine. No one else gets to see you like this.”

She fucks you against the wall with raw need, her pace relentless. When you dig your nails into her back, she grunts in satisfaction, grinding her hips against yours as she pushes you higher and higher. When you finally cry out her name, she smirks wickedly and presses her lips against your throat,

“That’s it, baby. Let everyone hear who you belong to.”

Face-Sitting:

You’re sprawled out on Abby’s bed, legs spread, breathless and needy. She stands at the edge of the bed, shirtless, jeans unbuttoned, looking down at you with that cocky smirk.

“You’re gonna ride my face,” she growls, gripping your hips and pulling you onto her. She lies back, hands firmly gripping your thighs, keeping you in place.

She doesn’t let you be shy—she pulls you down onto her tongue with firm hands, growling when you try to squirm away. Her tongue is relentless—slow at first, then fast and needy, flicking and curling in perfect rhythm. Her rough, calloused fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

“Don’t run from it,” she groans against you. “I wanna feel you fall apart on me.”

When you finally come undone, legs trembling around her head, she holds you there, keeping you riding her through the aftershocks. And when you collapse, breathless and boneless, she grins smugly from between your legs, her face flushed and slick with you.

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

mean!abby who laughs at you when you ask her to stop, telling her that you've had enough...

"you've had enough? you've had enough, baby?" she mocks you as she fucks up into your cunt, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing your face into the mattress.

she could feel herself getting wetter at your muffled whimpers, the way you sobbed into the sheets.

"thought you were my big girl, huh? got all tough on me and shit. 'i can take it, abby.' , 'i need you, daddy.' remember?" she taunted, her lips hovering over your ear. abby's eyes screwed shut as she felt the silicone grind into her clit, her bud throbbing for a release.

your face was stained with tears and spit pooling at the left side of your mouth, your nails dug into the sheets as you tried to lift up from abby's grip. but she was unrelenting, pushing you back down even harder that knocked the fight out of you.

"you wanted it so bad, right? so fuckin' take it bitch."

[abbylvr69]

IDC IF ITS A STRAP!!! I SAID NUT IN ME.

IDC IF ITS A STRAP!!! I SAID NUT IN ME.

IDC IF ITS A STRAP!!! I SAID NUT IN ME.

IDC IF ITS A STRAP!!! I SAID NUT IN ME.

IDC IF ITS A STRAP!!! I SAID NUT IN ME.

[cherrywineisawaltz]

MINORS DNI

NOTES: I’m wine drunk. Very drunk. That’s my explanation. So unabashedly horny they need to lock me away. Anyway I want to fuck Abby

WARNINGS: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader has a vagina), sex (oh no), strap usage(not explicitly mentioned but we assume), Abby tops, a little dirty talk, she’s folding you up (hold ur flexible), rough sex yum

It’s so painful it’s good. Abby, fucking you, hands pressed to the backs of your thighs. Your ankles dangle on each side of her face, bobbing pathetically with each sheathe of her relentless thrusts. “Fuck, baby,” she gasps, like she can fucking feel it, each push into your tight cunt, she moans pathetically. The plastic shoves in and out of you, puncturing deep against your cervix, “Gripping me so tight, god, feel how deep I am?”

Of course you fucking do, it’s all you feel. The sweet painful nudge every time she pushes in, the way her fingers pinch against your clit like a toy that she abuses relentlessly. You sound obscene, your words don’t even sound like words, just mewls and drawled fucked out sounds that drive her deeper inside, eager to push them out.

“God, such a pretty pussy, sounds so sweet for me, doesn’t she?” She asks, you can’t answer, cause every thought is pushed out of your brain with every punishing nudge of her hips, arms hooked under your knees just to get you to make those little squeaking noises. She pushes over you then, legs folded against your tits, knees pressed to your chest, lips hovering yours but never giving in to the kiss you beg for. “Yeah, I know baby, I know, just need you to hear you cum—can you do that for me?”

As if you could hold it back. It builds inside like a fucking bomb, the tension building and building. You’re clawing at her shoulders, crying into her chest, mouthing her tits as the tension snaps—aching to taste her. You lick up her throat, hands palming her broad muscles, legs shaking up by her ears, crying out with every jolt of stimulation her stalling thrusts bring.

[wh0reforbucknasty]

another amazing series being deactivated 😔 where are you 00valentina-writes00 i was really looking forward to the next chapter of Collateral this is highly depressing please if anybody info’s this work reposting on like AO3 of even a different account please 🙏🏾

[puriiinz]

POSTED | smau abby a.

III; MAISON

a/n: dramatic lesbians... yes...

contains: a LOT of cursing, reader calls abby mean names in her head but she doesn't mean it

masterlist | next

the "fight" wasn't really happening. at least not in the way yn expected...

yn had started off strong, making sure she looked confident enough to make abby think her actions through, but not too confident so she wouldn't look like a narcissist. she was ready to make abby bow down to her and apologize a thousand times and treat her like a princess from then on and- you get the gist...

but things had... shifted? they were just... talking, laughing even. and unfortunately (but not really) yn had started to notice some things that a normal person wouldn't unless they were staring at abby like a junkie stares at crack. like how half of her hair almost disappeared when the sun hit her just right, or the way she looked a little angry while she was focused- like right now, as she quite literally peeled the skin off her croissant..?

"you're eating that like a fucking psychopath.." yn observed.

abby didn't bother to look up "i'm peeling the layers. that's literally how you're supposed to eat it."

yn's face twisted in a way that she didn't know was possible, waiting for a few seconds to process this newfound information, "that is not how you're supposed to eat a croissant."

upon hearing that, abby immediately stopped eating- peeling? her croissant and looked at yn with a raised brow, literally question marks floating around her, "yes it is..?" then went back to performing surgery on her croissant.

"but i get it, you wouldn't understand... only smart people eat this way. you probably straight up bite into it like a dumbass.."

yn couldn't even comprehend what she was feeling at that point and was just gawking at abby's choice of words, "i do bite into it because i'm normal?" she argued "and now that i think about it... this explains so much about you."

abby raised a brow, trying (but failing) to hide her amused smile "yeah?" she wiped her mouth and took a sip of water, "please enlighten me, what does it say about me, the greatest abby?"

yn scoffed, copying abby and taking a sip of her coffee, "like how you over analyze everything like a freak, you probably take apart your sandwiches and eat them layer by layer or something."

she grinned before licking her lips, her fuckass mouth movements made yn question herself even more because what the fuck was she even feeling now? she met this girl like what, two- three days ago? like yeah sure she was attractive and had cool muscles but that was it. literally anyone else (even yn herself) could have those two qualities.

"are you jealous?"

yn blinked "huh?"

"are you jealous of my attention to detail?" abby said simply, still with a grin on her face. "i bet you wish i would focus on you instead of my sandwiches and croissants."

yn snorted, "please... if you ever looked at me with that much concentration i'd just assume i had something on my face. that or i'd think i looked horrendous."

abby shrugged before answering. "guess i'll just have to stare at you every chance i get..."

"yeah, okay- wait..." yn frowned, that felt suspicious.

abby just took a sip of her water, she was too pleased with herself to answer.

yn shook her head slightly, sighing. she tried not to overthink it, at least not now. "anyway," she cleared her throat "this doesn't change the fact that you eat your shit like a maniac."

"and yet," abby popped a piece (?) of her croissant into her mouth, "you keep looking at me."

yn was quick to respond, not wanting to give abby the happiness of embarrassing her. "you eat like a damn clown, anybody would stare at you."

abby chuckled, makin yn more agitated. "what?"

"so you admit you were- are staring at me?"

"huh?"

"you told me anybody would stare at me. i didn't say you were staring."

fffuuccckkkkkkkk...

"well- no! you know, the english language has a very rich vocabulary and i just happened to choose the word 'stare' to use. you're looking too much into it."

"mhm," abby grinned "sure."

yn was sure she looked dumb as FUCK. just stuttering and stumbling over her stupid excuses. and abby- god... abby was just grinning. ain't shit funny bitch. you wanna come catch this fade? didn't think so.

"i hope one day, someone forces you to eat a croissant normally. just makes you bite into it before you can fucking peel it."

abby laughed, showing her teeth and leaning back. she just found everything yn said soooo funny huh?

"what like mid air? just snatch it from me and shove it into my mouth?"

"yes," yn said firmly. "just completely destroy your whole routine. ruin your day, week even."

abby snorted, leaning in slightly, "you're volunteering? or..."

yn just scoffed, baffled at abby's audacity to even think of her like that. "i would never waste my time on you like that."

abby tilted her head. aww, cute right? wrong. yn wanted her OBLITERATED.

"so you'd do it for someone else?" keeping her head tilted, abby started pouting. fucking pouting in front of yn. literally staring into her eyes. pouting.

yn opened her mouth to give abby a smart ass answer but paused abruptly. something about that felt like a trap...

"uh.. maybe?"

abby just smiled, annoyingly smug and confident, and went back to eating her croissant the wrong fucking way.

yn just exhaled. this was exhausting. but for some reason, she wasn't eager to leave.

[korn-dawg]

𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

>𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒑 𝒉𝒄𝒔  

>𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑!𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆

>𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑!𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚

>𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓!𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚

>𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒏/𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒎 (𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕)

>𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓!𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚    

>𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓!𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒄/𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃  

[na0koz]

knight!abby x princess!reader…….. is anyone picking up what i’m putting down…

[cowboylu]

Sitting outside and thinking about outdoorsy gf Abby setting up the tent while you start the fire.

Thinking about using outdoorsy Abby as a heater when the night gets cold

Thinking bout dragging her up the hills while she complains she doesn’t like cardio

Thinking about her trying to convince you to get a camper-van, but you refusing cause it’s “not the same”

[caninecutiez]

Hey!!! Okay so hear me out a bot with Abby and older!user or the opposite user and older!abby and they like get into an argument about their age gap? Nothing illegal more like 24yo and idk 37yo? I hope that makes sense!!!

Okay thank you!!! Love your blog btw💕

click here to chat

thank youuu!! :3

[rhyrhy]

Kiss the chef

…Ermm based on comments I guess this is a series now..? LOL?

[warnings]: chef! Abby, unserious. Part 1 here

You sighed, leaning against Dina, trying to ignore your phone. “Dee, this is bad. Like, I-have-a-crush bad.”

Dina chuckled, flicking your forehead. “Girl, what? You’ve barely even seen her face.” Rolling onto her side to face you, she smirked. “And I’m the sapphic disaster?”

You groaned, swatting her hand away. “Yeah, but her voice though. And those arms? Oh, unless—oh God. Do you think the muscles are compensating?”

Dina snorted, propping herself up on her elbows. “I mean, maybe, but I doubt it. Probably toned all over, y’know? Not just the arms.”

“That’s true…” you sighed, staring at the ceiling. “Soooo, do I just… wait for her to DM me?”

Dina shot you a look. “Oh, so you wanna be one of the millions of other girls thirsting in her DMs?”

“You’re such a jerk.” You rolled onto your stomach, groaning into the blanket. “I’m eating your pasta when you leave.”

Dina scoffed, clutching her chest like you’d physically wounded her. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“And to think,” she continued, voice dripping with betrayal, “I was gonna make you pancakes this morning.”

“Aww my sweet Dina” You peeked up at her, narrowing your eyes. “…Fine, fine. I’ll spare the pasta.” You sat up, stretching. “And you know what? I am not DMing her first. I’m not desperate.”

Dina snickered. “Ohhh, now I’m your sweet Dina.” She gave you a knowing look. Food was the ultimate bribe. “That’s right. You’re not desperate. Not at all.”

You folded your arms, huffing. “Bye, I have to film. Miss Arms and Abs isn’t the only influencer around.”

Dina threw open her closet and called after you, voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh wow, look at you. So nonchalant. As if you don’t have a crush on a woman you’ve never even met in person.”

She yanked on an oversized shirt. “Have fun, drama queen. And don’t think I forgot about those pancakes.”

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Being called an “influencer” still sounded weird. You didn’t plan for this. But hey, free PR was a plus.

It all started in quarantine—everyone glued to their screens, desperate for entertainment. You were just another face in the endless sea, but apparently, 880.8k people liked yours. Your top pinned videos? A casual makeup tutorial and a GRWM featuring Dina’s voiceover roasting you for ten straight minutes.

@: 😭😭 this gotta be cyberbullying

@: her saying ‘looking casket-ready’ HAS ME DEAD

@: lights, cameras, fades tbh

@: okay but that shade match is perfect 😍

Now, ring light on, phone propped up, concealer in hand—you had a routine. The only real complaint? Editing out the parts where you tripped over your own words.

Recently, you’d started a new playlist: “Spring Break Glow Up.” The comments were convinced you were full-blown looksmaxing. In reality, you just wanted to look good for vacation. Gym, lymphatic drainage massages, a new hair color—okay, maybe a little looksmaxing. But after an embarrassingly public breakup, you needed something more than just your most-liked Instagram post.

“Still your loss btw💘”

———————

❤️ 1.8M — 💬 287.5K

@: “let her get up omg”

@: “Queen NEVER cries, body is too tea.”

@: “fumbling this is crazy work”

@: “my favorite unproblematic influencer”

Yeah, that was you. The sweet girl persona. So when you left that little thirst comment, it didn’t go unnoticed. Especially not the new notification at the top of your screen.

You: “Me next🫦!”

↳ @buffandbasil: “We’ll see :)”

↳ @ “.. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???!”

↳ @ “pause. Is this WLW rn—?”

↳ @ “get the fanfiction writers on this one!”

+99 more notifications.

It just kept going. You muted it and focused on posting—gotta keep engagement up. Some days, you weren’t even going anywhere but still filmed in full glam, pajama pants just out of frame. Consistency was key. If you slipped, you’d disappear as fast as you blew up.

…But you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The keyboard emoticons instead of emojis? How old was she? Should you follow her back? Was the whole faceless thing hot and mysterious… or creepy and suspicious? Your brain wouldn’t shut up. And worst of all? Dina was right.

Scrolling through your comments per usual, you couldn’t help yourself. You tapped the home icon, staring at the notification you’d been obsessing over since you woke up.

Followed back. Just now.

Mutuals.

Meaning you could send a message if you wanted, and she would actually see it. But no, no—you weren’t saying anything first. That was ridiculous. So you waited. And you filmed. And you waited— yeah, this was even more ridiculous than the original plan. Until—

One new message.

@buffandbasil: “So… do I get a review from the famous food critic, or are you just gonna thirst from a distance?”

@ you: “ple-aseee. I’m simply admiring the you know, the… presentation.”

@buffandbasil: “Oh, so it’s about the food?”

@ you: “Of course”

@buffandbasil: “Mm. Good to know.”

Okay. That felt like flirting. It had to be, right?

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The messages kept flowing, playful. Your heart shouldn’t have been racing over texts, but here you were, kicking your sock-covered feet. At some point during the week, you posted a casual TikTok—something stupid, barely even about her. Just a clip of you cooking with the black-and-white text overlay.

“Idk how to act now that I’m mutuals with the internet’s buffest chef.”

It was harmless. Cute, even. And then, everything felt good—until her replies stopped. You waited. Five minutes. Ten. An hour. You’d been texting since Monday. What’s the big hold-up now?

A like? That’s all you got. Not even on your last message, but one from earlier. Your stomach churned around. Maybe she got busy. Was this getting too parasocial? You had to check, not sure what for. But when you opened her latest TikTok, that’s when you saw it. A comment, just a few minutes old:

@: you and @y/n cooking video together when?

Okay, next. Scrolling.

^ @: right!, I need it like I need air!

Love that idea, you thought, thumb slowing down a little.

@: “Lmao she flirts like this with everyone, don’t fall for it.”

Oh.

@: “Lmao she flirts like this with everyone, don’t fall for it.” <❤️’ed by @buffandbasil>

Oh.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

[cosmichahn]

when candles burn out.

[iii. AUTUMN]

abby anderson x scientist!reader

— 4 seasons with abby; seasons pass, feelings grow.

— notes: fluff-ish, someone's got a wound, the other's helping out

“Abby, get the fuck right here this god damn instant." Voice whispering, trying not to choke on your words. Your hand firmly tugged her arm as a group of people from a cult walked past the place you were sent to explore and loot such items.

“Shit, that came out rude. Sorry."

“It's ok."

Like what your superiors instructed: do not let anyone other than your partner see you. The place you went to was already owned by a group of cult members who used both infected and uninfected people as their sacrifice as some of them were also cannibals. It's odd, you thought, but there was only you and Abby, and if things go wrong, it might just be the end for the two of you.

The group stopped near where you were hiding, and frankly Abby was struggling to hide behind the crates, and so you tried to pull her to an empty little storage room. It was small and cramped, but it's one of the first things that entered your mind so you just did it.

Upon entering the cramped area, you went straight face to face with Abby, feeling the trickling waves of her breath on your nose. “I hope I don't smell that bad." She joked, not receiving a reply or a little laugh in return as you were peeking through the little hole in the door. You observed the conversation going on outside of the little room you were in, not hearing what Abby said.

“Abby, d'you think my bombs are gonna work?" You whispered, holding the little pouch in your bag. The bombs were made of the newly discovered fungi that you found while patrolling. It was a puffball mushroom that had all of these red and white spots that looked mutated, and it was never before seen; or at least it just wasn't listed in her notebook filled with fungal research.

The small bombs you made replicated grenades, and as it falls through the floor after its tie is untangled, a smoke releases. It doesn't kill, but it definitely leaves the victim a couple of hours of paralyzed as their limbs start to numb, feeling as if it's burning although it isn't.

“I'm sure it'll work." Abby gave you a reassuring smile, getting her gas mask ready. “Besides, you're one of the nerdiest people I know." She ruffled your already big mess of a hair, apologizing as she noticed her gesture.

“Thanks, nerdy's one way to put it." You squint your eyes at her, noticing the cut on her lip as a small drop of blood began to trickle down. “Where'd you get that, Abs?" Upon questioning it, you brushed your thumb over her bottom lip, wiping off the blood. 

She felt your thumb, brushing over the cut after you removed your hand. “Probably just scratched over something." Abby replied.

You gaze your finger over hers. “It looks like a deep cut." Caressing it, you eye the blood trickling once more. “Does it sting?" It was a look of concern, and although you may seem paranoid right now, infections were obviously still a thing. If you consider how an open cut can be infected even more as it's touched by icks that are very unsanitary. Of course considering that there's no need to be so much of a germaphobe especially with how the environment is right now, but still. You notice the rambling in your mind, shutting yourself up. “I have some rubbing alcohol and a bandaid here." You began shuffling through your bag.

“I'm fine, don't worry.” She let out a small and quiet chuckle. “I'll be okay."

“Ok, but I'll still treat it, Abigail."

“Yes, Ma'am."

No word of hers was heard as you swiftly took a small bottle of alcohol, putting a little bit on your pointer. “This will sting." You dabbed a little on the cut, seeing the corner of her lip twitch a little bit. With every muscle of your hand, you tried to be a little more careful, before plastering the small band aid, sealing it away. “All done."

“Thank you, Doctor." She joked, going a little closer than usual. The tips of your noses were touching, now feeling the quiet breaths of hers tickling your lips.

A smile growing on your lips. It was time to put your head back to where it was supposed to be in the first place: Getting past these cannibal cult members.

i. SPRING ii. SUMMER iii. AUTUMN iv. WINTER

[shoot1ngst4r]

going out of your way to search up [insert character] ANGST and all you get is smut