⠀⠀𝓼exy 𝓉o 𝓼omeone 𝒾s 𝒶ll 𝒾 𝓃eed .ᐟ abby "abs" anderson
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒻eaturing 🧺 ⋆｡˚ black!femme!reader x medical student!abigail anderson ⋆˙⟡
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝓼ynopsis 🪵 ✧˖°. medical student!abby who's so stressed her libido peaks to take care of said stress so you help her out with "studying."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝔀arnings 🪶 ˚.⋆⟢ degradation rough!abby rough sex manhandling pussydrunk abby. rough!mean!asshole abby anderson squirting. slight choking. abby’s soooo big! it's in it's standing position (9 inches)! cervix-kissing. multiple orgasms. eventual creampie. g!p abby minors under 17 dni please !
𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘, 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓…the apartment was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a single lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the cluttered coffee table.
textbooks were strewn open, pages marked with neon tabs and scribbled notes, empty coffee cups forming a small army of exhaustion on the end table.
the air smelled like stale caffeine and stress, the kind that clung to the walls and seeped into the fabric of the couch where you sat, legs tucked beneath you, watching her.
abby paced.
back and forth, back and forth, a caged animal in gray sweats and a loose tank top that hung off her broad shoulders.
her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, strands escaping to frame her face, and her jaw was tight, set in that way it got when she was grinding her teeth.
she had a highlighter in one hand, a flashcard in the other, and she was muttering under her breath about the brachial plexus and the median nerve and something about innervations that you stopped trying to follow ten minutes ago.
“fuck,” she hissed, tossing the flashcard onto the pile. it fluttered and landed facedown, joining the chaos.
she dragged both hands down her face, fingers pressing into her eyes like she could physically push the information deeper into her skull. “i can’t—i’ve been at this for six hours and i still can’t—” she stopped, let out a breath that was more growl than sigh, and turned to look at you.
her eyes were bloodshot. not from crying, but from staring at pages of dense text until the words blurred.
there was a wildness in them, something frayed and desperate, and you knew that look..
you’d seen it before, three times this week alone. it was the look of a woman who was running on fumes and caffeine and sheer stubborn will, and who was about to snap.
“come here,” you said, your voice soft, unhurried. you patted the cushion beside you on the couch.
she shook her head, pacing again. “i can’t. i have to—i need to get through the upper limb section before tomorrow or dr. park is going to—”
“abby.”
your voice was still soft, but there was a thread of command in it now, a quiet insistence that made her stop mid-stride.
she looked at you, chest rising and falling a little too fast, and you saw the war happening behind her eyes.
the part of her that wanted to keep pushing, keep grinding herself into dust, and the part of her that was so tired she could barely stand.
you held out your hand.
she stared at it for a long moment, her gaze flickering from your palm to your face, searching for something.
permission, maybe. or forgiveness for what she was about to do. because you both knew where this was going.
you’d been dancing around it all evening, the tension building with every frustrated sigh, every time she ran her hand through her hair and tugged at the roots.
finally, she crossed the room. not gracefully—there was nothing graceful about the way she moved, all coiled tension and barely leashed hunger.
she dropped onto the couch beside you, the cushions dipping under her weight, and before you could say another word, her hands were on you.
rough.
that was the first thing you registered. the roughness of her touch, the way her fingers dug into your hips and pulled you closer, not gently, not asking.
she kissed you like she was drowning and your mouth was air, hard and urgent, her tongue sliding against yours with a desperation that made your head spin.
you tasted coffee and mint and something sharper underneath, something that was pure abby when she was at her breaking point.
you moaned into her mouth, and the sound seemed to crack something open in her.
she pulled back, breathing hard, her forehead pressed to yours, and when she spoke, her voice was low and rough, scraped raw.
“you don’t have to do this.” it wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t quite a statement either. it was a test, a last chance for you to say no.
you answered by reaching down and gripping the hem of her tank top, pulling it up. she let you, raising her arms just enough for you to tug it over her head and toss it aside.
her skin was warm, flushed, and you ran your palms up her stomach, over the ridges of her abs, feeling the muscle twitch beneath your touch.
“i want to,” you said, and that was all the permission she needed.
she pushed you back against the arm of the couch, her body covering yours, one hand sliding up your thigh under the hem of your shorts.
her fingers were hot, insistent, pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and she watched your face as she did it, cataloging every micro-expression, every flutter of your lashes.
“you have no idea,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear, “how bad i need this. need you. been sitting there all night, trying to memorize nerve pathways, and all i could think about was getting my hands on you.”
her fingers found the edge of your underwear, and she didn't hesitate.
she pushed the fabric aside, sliding two fingers through your slickness, and a low, guttural sound escaped her throat.
“fuck, baby. you’re already so wet for me.”
you gasped, your hips bucking into her hand, and she smiled. it wasn't a nice smile. it was sharp and hungry and full of teeth, and it made heat pool low in your belly.
“been thinking about me too, huh?” she didn't wait for an answer. she pushed two fingers inside you, not slow, not gentle, and the stretch made you cry out, your back arching off the cushions.
“that's it,” she breathed, her forehead dropping to yours as she began to move, her fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that was all frustration and need. “take it. take all of it. i need to feel you come apart on my fingers, need to watch you fall apart for me.”
she was relentless. her thumb found your clit, pressing hard circles that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
and her fingers curled inside you, searching, finding that spot that made your vision go white.
when she hit it, you screamed, a broken sound that was half pleasure, half surprise, and she groaned against your throat.
“there it is. there's my good girl.”
but there was nothing gentle in the way she said it. it was a taunt, a tease, and she drove into you harder, faster, until you were a mess beneath her, moaning and writhing and clutching at her shoulders like she was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.
you came with a sob, your body clenching around her fingers, and she rode you through it, slowing only when your legs began to shake.
but she didn't stop.
she pulled her fingers out, brought them to her mouth, and licked them clean, her eyes never leaving yours. the sight of it, the casual, hungry way she tasted you, sent a fresh wave of arousal through your already oversensitive body.
“get up,” she said, and her voice was different now. lower. rougher. the voice of someone who had moved past desperation and into something darker, something that demanded.
you obeyed, your legs unsteady as you stood. she rose with you, her body crowding yours, backing you toward the wall until your spine hit the cool plaster.
her hands found your shorts, yanking them down along with your underwear, and she didn't bother to be careful. the fabric caught on your ankles, and she kicked it aside, leaving you bare from the waist down.
“turn around,” she said, and you did, pressing your palms flat against the wall.
you heard the rustle of fabric behind you, the soft thud of her sweatpants hitting the floor, and then her body was against yours, all heat and muscle and the hard length of her pressing against your thigh.
she was big. you knew that already, had felt her in your hands, in your mouth, but feeling her pressed against you like this, knowing what was coming, made your breath catch.
“you ready for me?” she asked, her lips brushing your ear, her hand sliding around to grip your hip.
you nodded, but that wasn't enough for her. her hand came up, fingers wrapping around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a reminder of who was in control.
“use your words.”
“yes,” you breathed. “yes, abby. i'm ready.”
she pushed into you in one smooth, brutal motion, and the sound you made was animal.
she was so deep, so impossibly deep, and the stretch was overwhelming, a burning fullness that made your vision swim.
she didn't give you time to adjust. she began to move immediately, her hips slapping against yours, her grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your pulse throb.
“fuck,” she groaned, her forehead dropping to the back of your head. “feel that? feel how deep i am? you're taking me so well, baby. taking all of me.”
her pace was punishing, each thrust driving her deeper, kissing your cervix with every stroke.
you were babbling, nonsense words and broken moans, your nails scraping against the wall as she fucked you standing up, her body a wall of muscle behind you, her breath hot against your neck.
“that's it,” she growled. “let me hear you. let everyone hear you. want them to know who you belong to.”
she reached around, her fingers finding your clit again, and the combination of her cock pounding into you and her fingers working you was too much.
you came again, harder this time, your body convulsing around her, and she groaned at the feeling, her pace faltering for just a moment.
“fuck, yes. squeeze me just like that.”
she didn't slow down. if anything, she sped up, chasing her own release, and you could feel her getting close, could feel the way her thrusts became sloppier, more desperate. but she wasn't done with you yet.
she pulled out, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness. she turned you around, her hands gripping your thighs and lifting you, wrapping your legs around her waist as she carried you to the couch.
she dropped you onto the cushions, not gently, and climbed over you, her body covering yours, her cock pressing against your stomach, slick and hot.
“i'm not done with you,” she said, and her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, her hair falling loose from its ponytail and hanging around her face. “not even close.”
she pushed into you again, and the angle was different now, deeper, and you cried out, your hands flying to her shoulders.
she began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that was somehow more devastating than the frantic pace before.
she watched your face, watched every expression of pleasure and pain and ecstasy, and she drank it in like she was starving.
“look at you,” she murmured, her voice rough. “look at what you do to me. i was losing my mind out there, and all i had to do was come home to you.”
she leaned down, her lips brushing yours, and the kiss was softer than anything she had done tonight.
it was almost tender, a stark contrast to the way she was fucking you, and it made your heart ache.
“i'm gonna cum inside you,” she said against your lips, and the words were a promise, a threat, a plea. “gonna fill you up. you want that?”
“yes,” you gasped. “yes, abby, please.”
she drove into you harder, faster, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and you could feel the coil tightening in your belly again, a third orgasm building, and you were so close, so close—
“cum with me,” she demanded, her voice breaking. “cum with me, baby. now.”
you shattered.
your vision went white, your body arching off the couch as you came, and she followed a second later, her hips stuttering as she buried herself deep, spilling inside you with a groan that was almost a sob.
she collapsed on top of you, her weight a comforting pressure, her face buried in your neck.
for a long moment, there was only the sound of breathing, harsh and uneven, slowly evening out. her hand found yours, lacing your fingers together, and she pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
“thank you,” she whispered, and her voice was small now, vulnerable, stripped of all the roughness and demand. “i needed that. needed you.”
you turned your head, pressing a kiss to her temple, your free hand coming up to stroke her hair.
“i know,” you said softly. “i know.”
she shifted, pulling out of you with a wince, and you felt the warmth of her release trickle down your thigh.
she reached for her discarded tank top, using it to clean you up with a tenderness that made your chest tight.
“stay,” she said, and it wasn't a command this time. it was a request. “stay the night. please.”
you smiled, pulling her down beside you, arranging yourselves on the too-small couch, tangled together in the aftermath.
“i wasn't planning on going anywhere.”
she kissed you again, soft and slow, and when she pulled back, her eyes were heavy-lidded, the tension finally gone from her shoulders.
“i love you,” she said, and the words were quiet, almost an afterthought, but you felt them in your bones.
“i love you too, abby.”
she tucked her head under your chin, her arm wrapping around your waist, and within minutes, her breathing evened out, her body going slack against yours.
you lay there in the dim light, surrounded by textbooks and flashcards and the evidence of her hard work, and you held her.
you would wake her in a few hours, make sure she ate something, quiz her on the brachial plexus until she had it memorized. but for now, you let her rest.
for now, you let her have this.
─── 🏹 CONFIDENTIAL ENDING MEMORANDUM: hello my angels. i hope you enjoyed. if you would like to see more like this, turn on your notifications and join the taglist. stay safe and get more gay. xoxo, the sacrificial lamb.
𝐦𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 (13/50): @iadorefineshyt @pretty-u @y1ppeeyur1 @ryuwifes @almadellie @unicornclit666 @ajs-blogz @webwand3rer @un1c0rntam3r @blackdykegirlblogger @hopefullydoingokay2 @mermaidslament @dearbaes
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