⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - elle. she/her. femme girlkisser. sag. lover of my dog, dr pepper, and everything bagels.
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𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: 18+ only MDNI, angst, arguments, two idiots in love, oral (r!receiving), fingering (abby and r!receiving), dry humping/thigh grinding, bush supremacy and literally so much kissing.
𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 3.8k
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: I recently read the sapphic lady knights series by mariah rae birch and knight!abby has been rattling around in my brain ever since. this was something that was only meant to be a small blurb but… I got a tad bit carried away. but I need to give my bestie @undead-supernova all the flowers for helping me edit, listening to me talk her ear off about this fic and just always pushing me to be a better writer. ily august <3
The palace corridors are quiet at this hour, with only the echoes of your joined footsteps filling the empty space. The late afternoon sun dips lower on the horizon the further you walk, casting shadows across the stone walls.
Abby stays just a step behind you, close enough for you to feel the heat of her presence, but far enough to still remain untouchable. A profound silence hangs heavily between you, stretching out like an endless abyss.
That silence isn’t accidental—it’s deliberate. A new part of your arrangement that was decided for you, just like everything else in your life.
But Abby hasn’t spoken to you in two weeks, not since that night.
The night where you had somehow managed to thwart a kidnapping attempt. But it was also the night where she gathered you up in her arms and pressed you up against your chamber door, kissing you like she couldn’t stand the thought of ever losing you.
Only for her to turn around and act like it never even happened.
You couldn’t decide which was worse: knowing that she wanted you—craved you—or that she would rather punish you both than act on those feelings again.
That is what this felt like. A punishment, because, regardless of what happened, she was always there.
Waiting outside your chamber door every morning with dark circles under her eyes growing more sunken with each passing day. Trailing beside you in the palace’s lush rose gardens, her eyes sharp and focused as she surveyed the area for any signs of imminent danger.
And now, as she escorts you to the palace’s library, she’s silent and stoic as she follows you through the long, winding corridors.
Abby had foregone her armor for something far more practical: a pair of dark, fitted riding pants, leather boots and a crisp white linen tunic that she wore tucked beneath a navy doublet.
A golden emblem of a wolf is stitched over her breast pocket, a symbol of her allegiance to King Isaac. Her dark blonde locks are pulled back in her signature braid, but it’s looser from the day's wear. Her sword rests in its sheath against her hip, one of her hands perched atop the hilt—showing off that she is still a force to be reckoned with, if the occasion were to arise.
And yet, she’s softer like this. Displaying a rugged kind of beauty that you’ve always admired since the moment you first laid eyes on her. Ser Abigail Anderson was known widely throughout the ten kingdoms as the Iron Wolf, simultaneously revered and feared.
She knelt before the king and vowed on her own life to keep you safe from harm, and that was all it took for you to see beneath that hard, constructed exterior. To see the kind, gentle woman that lay hidden beneath, who was still frustratingly out of your reach.
But despite the fortress she’s built between you, there’s no denying that something had shifted between you that night. Between your roaming hands and eager lips, she wasn’t just your hired protector anymore.
And her refusal to acknowledge it hurt worse than you could have ever imagined. Every stolen glance felt hollow and cold, if she even dared to look your way at all. Her warm presence that had drawn you in like a moth to a flame was replaced with a rigid disposition.
But it was the softer moments, the ones where you could truly see past that stone cold exterior that hurt the most. The novels she continued to leave on your bedside table each week, which were hand selected for you with the utmost attention and care. While she was out in the training yard, you realized she was still using the silk handkerchief you had given her that very first day to blot the sweat from her brow the same way that you had.
It was beyond maddening, and none of it made any sense. Her silence and cold demeanor felt like rejection, but her constant presence and thoughtful actions spoke of something else entirely: a deep affection she was keeping hidden beneath that iron breastplate. It only left you reeling with each passing day.
But as days turned into weeks, those feelings of hurt and confusion slowly morphed into a burning resentment that settled deep within your chest. It was heightened with Abby’s incessant need to have you in her direct line of sight at all times.
You can feel the silence between you start to swell, growing heavier with each step you take. It's a suffocating and unrelenting sort of feeling, pressing down on you until you can almost feel your lungs start to burn.
You stop abruptly, and her steps immediately falter behind you. You can feel her release an unsteady breath, the sound tickling the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. You flick a quick but fleeting glance over your shoulder and the way she’s looking at you makes your stomach flip.
But she remains still, silent and the last of your patience evaporates.
“I think I can manage the rest of the way without the need of an escort,” you say as you whirl around to face her.
You can see the muscles in her jaw work as she looks at you, her brows pinching together in a scowl. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—” she starts.
“Oh, so you can speak?” you interject with a sharp laugh. “Could have fooled me.”
Abby sighs deeply and takes a step toward you, forcing you two paces back in an effort to keep your distance. And she has the audacity to look hurt.
“Please don’t do this,” she hisses, glancing over her shoulder. “Not here.”
You have to hold back another bewildered laugh. “Why? Are you afraid someone might overhear that the fearless Ser Abigail would choose to suffer in silence rather than chase what she wants? Where is the honor in that?”
She angrily runs a hand down her face. “It’s better this way,” she says, not fully meeting your eyes. “For both of us.”
Her words slice through you like a dagger, but the way she’s refusing to look at you only twists the blade in deeper. “Better for us?” you question. “Or better for you?”
The question hangs in the air between you, charged and full of indignation.
Her mouth twists, but her eyes don’t leave the ground. “There is no us. I’m sworn to protect you. It cannot be anything more than that.”
“You’re a coward.”
Her head immediately snaps up, her eyes narrowing as they bear into yours. “What happened that night was a mistake, I never should have crossed that line with you. It will not happen again.”
Her words are the finishing blow to your already crumbling disposition. “Right,” you whisper, your throat tightening and your eyes stinging. “I really wish you would have figured that out before you convinced me otherwise.”
You start to turn and she grabs your wrist.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” you choke out, yanking your wrist free and taking off down the hall.
Behind you, Abby curses sharply but regains her composure enough to chase after you. Her footsteps are loud and heavy against the polished stone, rivaling the way your heart pounds in your ears. She’s already gaining on you. You quickly hike up the many layers of your gown in your fists and force your legs to move faster as you tear down the empty corridor.
You ignore each call of your name, not bothering to think where you’re headed, only that you need to get as far away from her as possible. A passage leading to a winding staircase stretches before you and you quickly duck inside, taking the stairs down two at a time.
You just barely reach the landing when a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground, whisking you out of the open stairwell and down a dark, empty corridor.
“Put. Me. Down,” you seethe, trying and failing to wiggle out of her tight embrace.
“Calm down and I will,” she chides, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.
A shiver of delight races down your spine and you go practically boneless in her embrace, the last of your defiance disappearing with it.
“Fine,” you whisper defeatedly.
Abby loosens the iron grip she has on your waist and slowly lowers you to your feet. She doesn’t give you another opportunity to run as she backs you into the cold wall, bracing her palms on either side of you, caging you in.
She’s so close that you can feel her warm breath fan across your mouth with every slow exhale—a ghost of a kiss—and your lips part.
It’s hard to make out her expression in the dark of the hall, but as your eyes slowly start to adjust you notice the deep rosy flush sweeping across her cheeks…and the way her eyes have unmistakenly fallen to your parted lips.
“What are we doing here, Abby?” you prod.
What am I to you?
Abby releases another deep sigh, her eyes slipping shut as she bows her head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you regret it?” you whisper.
“No. I—” She grits her teeth, leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m trying to do my job, to keep you safe. I cannot allow my own feelings to complicate things more than they already have.”
“Why do you see them as a complication?”
“Because I don’t think I would survive if I had to lose another person that I love.”
The words are spoken softly, a confession that she never intended to reveal to you. Abby meets your gaze, releasing her hold to take a step back, fear and uncertainty in her eyes.
You reach for her, cupping her face in between your palms. “But you won’t lose me.”
She quickly shakes her head, removing your hands from her face to wrap around your wrists. Not to restrain you, but to ground herself. “You have people after you. You cannot promise me something like that,” she counters, unable to keep her voice from shaking.
“You have sworn your life to protect me, Abigail. Why won’t you let me do the same?”
Abby just stares at you for a moment, unblinking and tense as a silent battle wages behind her eyes. Then she stalks forward, the last of her restraint shattering as she closes the distance between you and crashes her lips against yours.
She claims your mouth with the kind of desperation that leaves you feeling lightheaded, and you surge into her, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Her warm hands encircle your waist, splaying across the dip in your spine to pull you flush against her chest. Abby eagerly swallows your small gasp, releasing a strangled noise of her own when your fingers thread themselves into her braid to give an experimental tug.
The way she grounds out your name has liquid heat pooling in your middle, her lips leaving a trail of wet kisses over the curve of your jaw…down your throat, until she reaches the crook of your neck. Her teeth skim over the sensitive flesh there, earning her another breathy whine.
“Abby,” you breathe, your fingers digging into the taut muscles of her shoulders. “Touch me, please.”
Her fingers grip the layers of fabric keeping you apart, hiking up your gown as she hitches your thigh around her hip. The hilt of her sword digs into the soft flesh there, but you hardly mind when you feel her hand dip between your legs.
Abby’s hand cups your mound of curls in her warm palm, her calloused fingers gliding through your slick center with ease. You grip tightly onto her shoulder with one hand, the other fisting into the soft fabric of your gown. Your hips jolt forward unexpectedly as she continues her descent, her fingers ghosting over that sensitive bundle of nerves—a place only you have touched.
You only explored yourself in the seclusion of your bed chambers, where you’d bury your hand between your thighs and sink your teeth into the pillows to keep your whines from reaching the beautiful knight standing guard on the other side of your door.
“Oh God,” you gasp softly, lashes fluttering when she brushes her fingers over that aching spot again. “That’s—Right there.”
The corner of her mouth crooks up into a satisfied grin, but when her touch suddenly falls away you nearly whimper from the loss of contact. Abby hushes you with a firm press of her mouth before she drops down to kneel before you.
“What are you—” you rasp, but the heated look she sends you has the words dying on your tongue.
She quirks her brow up in a silent question, her fingers trailing over the back of your hand where you’re still clutching tightly onto the rumpled fabric of your gown. A pulse of white hot desire thrums through you, but instead of answering, you lift the fabric higher.
Abby eagerly ducks beneath the layers of your dress skirt, her lips pressing a tender kiss to the skin just above your knee before she gently guides your leg up to rest over her shoulder. Her movements are slow but deliberate, each kiss and drag of her fingers are enough to have you trembling before she even gets her mouth on you.
And when she does? You melt.
She goes slow, taking her time to explore the most sensitive parts of you with her tongue, almost as if she's trying to make you feel all the things she’s too afraid to admit aloud.
I want you, I need you, I’ll love you till my dying breath.
Abby releases a muffled groan against your core when you cradle the back of her head, the vibrations sending another jolt of arousal through you. She presses the flat of her tongue harder against your sensitive bud and slowly guides a finger inside you.
Abby’s hand stills once she’s slipped the entire digit inside, and while you appreciate her chivalry, that is not what you need right now.
She groans when you start to grind into her palm, your breasts straining against your bodice with each shuddering breath. “Please,” you plead. “I need more.”
And more is what she gives you.
Abby slips another finger into your dripping heat and your body welcomes it, your eyes nearly rolling back from the sheer sense of relief you feel when she buries herself to the hilt inside you. Her tongue circles back over your throbbing center, the sound of each wet thrust echoing down the empty corridor.
“God, that feels…” you trail off with a gasp, your knees starting to shake. “You feel…” But any semblance of thought leaves your mind when she curls her fingers up and rubs against a spot that has you completely coming apart at the seams.
Abby eagerly works you through each shuddering wave, finally relenting with one final flick of her tongue that has your hips jerking back. You can feel the small puff of breath when she chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the plush skin of your inner thigh before she guides you to stand on both feet again.
When she emerges from under your gown to rise to her feet, her hair is a complete mess and you can’t help but giggle at the sight. The corner of her mouth quirks up in a grin as she snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against her chest. Her other hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, the pad of her thumb brushing over your lower lip before she leans back in. Her lips are warm and wet when they meet yours, the taste of you and her overwhelming your senses.
“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of doing that,” Abby confesses, pressing another urgent kiss to your swollen lips. “How many nights I had to stand outside your chambers, hearing you touch yourself.” Another kiss. “The sheer willpower it took to keep myself from barging in there and claiming you with my mouth.”
In one fluid motion, you have her pinned to the wall, allowing your lips to eagerly mouth over her bared throat while your fingers fumble to loosen the ties of her trousers.
“You should have,” you mumble against her jaw, “God I wanted you to.”
Abby is panting, soft ragged breaths that have her breasts surging against your own as your hand slips down past her waistband to untuck the soft fabric of her tunic.
“What else did you dream about?” you murmur, grazing your teeth along her jaw before nipping gently on her earlobe. “Please tell me.”
The low moan that she tries to stifle only encourages your wandering hands. They slide up and under her tunic, over the warm, contoured planes of her stomach. You feel a burst of confidence when she shudders beneath your gentle touches, her back arching into your palm when you cup one of her breasts.
One of her hands that had previously been occupied with gripping the fabric bunched at your waist captures your other wrist before it can finish its ascent. You start to pull away to look at her then, worried you had done something wrong. But Abby doesn’t let you stray very far, reeling you back in until your chests are flush.
Her cerulean eyes are nearly black with a hunger you’ve never seen before—her full lips and chin still slick with a mixture of you and her saliva. Her hair is mussed and wild and she looks downright feral, sending another rush of pulsing heat between your thighs.
Abby’s touch is firm but still gentle as she guides your hand up to her mouth, slipping two of your fingers past her lips and swirling her tongue around them. You release a soft whine when she begins to sucks on them, and you can feel her hum of approval against them.
After a long, erotic moment, she finally releases your slick fingers with a soft pop, maintaining eye contact as she coaxes them back down and past the waistband of her trousers.
“It was this,” she whispers finally before capturing your lips in another desperate kiss. “I dreamt of you doing this.”
She thrusts her hips into your palm, and you’re met with a mound of soft curls and wet heat. You moan into her mouth as you slide your fingers lower, gathering more of the slick that has pooled at her entrance and circling it back up and over her sensitive bud.
“I thought of you every night,” you confess, the sound of her stifled moans spurring you on. “How you would feel…what you would sound like and, God,” you sigh, “how you would taste.”
It was true, you had thought about her far too much. Of what it would feel like to kiss her…hold her…spread her out on your silk sheets and taste every inch of her. You were plagued with these thoughts and fantasies for months, and now that one of them had come to fruition, you were going to savor it.
Abby releases a string of curses under her breath, tilting her head back to rest against the stone wall. You can’t help but admire the way her eyes screw shut in pleasure, and her lips part with each drag of your fingers. But your gaze eventually drifts lower to watch the rise and fall of her chest and back down to where your hand is still inside her trousers.
The sight alone has you squirming against her, unintentionally grinding your hips into hers in desperate need of some friction. The action pulls a strangled groan from her throat, as it forces your fingers to press harder against her swollen bud.
“That’s…fuck—” she chokes out, her hips beginning to buck up frantically against your palm. You meet each of her thrusts in earnest, your fingers rubbing tighter circles against her until you feel her completely lose control.
You stop once you feel her legs start to tremble, cupping her in your palm as her body sags back against the wall. Abby releases a soft, satiated sigh and leans forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder.
You both stay like that for a long moment, no words, just holding her close as her breathing returns to a normal pace. But it’s not long before you feel her hands beginning to grab fistfuls of your gown, dragging the soft fabric back up to expose your bare thighs. With one gentle nudge, she spreads your legs apart with her knee, sliding it home right between your thighs.
An offering.
“Only if you want it,” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. The ache between your thighs reignites with a sudden vengeance, and your frantic nod urges her to press her knee up against your aching center. “Take what you need.”
You release a breathy gasp, gripping onto her shoulder with your other hand and rocking your hips down onto her thigh. Every one of your nerves feels like a live wire, and each frantic grind of your hips is tipping you dangerously closer to the edge.
“There you go,” she murmurs, her teeth lightly nipping at your exposed collarbone. “You’re doing so well for me, love.”
Her soft praise and the feel of her thigh flexing against your dripping core unravels you completely and you sink your teeth into your lower lip in an attempt to stifle your moans from spilling freely down the corridor.
She holds you close as your body writhes against her, slowly dragging her fingers up and down the length of your spine. Once the euphoric haze begins to clear, you come to the delightful realization that your hand is still buried inside her trousers.
You release a soft hum, pulling back far enough to hold her gaze as your fingers descend one last time. Abby’s hips twitch involuntarily as you lightly brush your fingertips over her bundle of nerves, and she bites back a moan when they dip lower to gather more of the slick that’s pooled at her entrance.
Your dutiful knight has been reduced to a panting mess once you slip your hand back out of her trousers, holding up your fingers to admire the mess she left behind.
“Come here,” she says, pulling that familiar handkerchief from her breastpocket and reaching for your wrist. “Let me.”
But you stop her with a subtle shake of your head, pushing away the offered handkerchief and slipping your fingers inside of your mouth to greedily suck each digit clean. Abby’s eyes darken at the sight, her jaw muscles flexing and you let out a small giggle.
“You will be the death of me,” she mutters fondly, pulling you in close to bury her face in your bosom.
You release another soft laugh and thread your fingers through the loose hair at the nape of her neck. “Well, at least it’d be an honorable way to go,” you tease and Abby nips the top of your breast in return.
BUTCH!TRINITY who genuinely can't keep her mouth shut, but tries so hard for you because she's afraid of hurting your feelings more than anything.
BUTCH!TRINITY who doesn't let you carry bags, packages, boxes or any other objectively light items simply because she doesn't want her princess to strain herself.
BUTCH!TRINITY who constantly forgets the lunches you leave in the middle of the kitchen table, where they're literally impossible to miss, but she still somehow manages to leave for her shift without food. Either she's incredibly forgetful, or she does it on purpose, just to see you a little earlier than after work.
BUTCH!TRINITY who genuinely adores it when you show up at the hospital in some cute outfit, attracting stares, leaving a kiss and lipstick mark on her cheek (that she won't wipe off) and telling her how inattentive she is.
BUTCH!TRINITY who is a total guard dog. She doesn't care if there's a six-foot-tall guy in front of her. Did he insult or hurt you? Touch you? You'll have to tearfully drag her away from him because you know you'll go crazy if she gets hurt.
BUTCH!TRINITY who actually stood up for you once, smashing some drink idiot's face into a brick wall because he managed to sneak up on you while she went to get drinks. Sure, she got her pretty face punched after that too but at least she held you in her lap while you tended to her bruises.
BUTCH!TRINITY who loves seeing you being jealous. Not with the dynamic of you pinning her against the wall and proving who owns her, but just quietly watching for a while. Leave lipstick marks on her collar, nail scratches on her back and biceps, make her wear your bra strap around her wrist like a bracelet. Kiss her in front of everyone, not roughly, not possessively, just long and deep, while your hands slide down the back of her neck.
Subtop BUTCH!TRINITY who can be such a pain in the ass, talking shit and teasing, but as soon as you tell her to get down on her knees and start touching yourself, she breaks down. Begs letting her to touch you and swears she'll make you feel so, so good.
BUTCH!TRINITY who adores it when you wear her clothes. You're just drowning in her t-shirts, sweaters, or flannels. And especially if you're wearing only her shirt and nothing else.
BUTCH!TRINITY who’s very shy about saying "I love you" first. She's still a little insecure and afraid you might not say "I love you" back, even though you always do. Just give her some time.
BUTCH!TRINITY who lets you color her tattoos. She'll probably ask for it herself, but when you mention it later, she'll say you were hallucinating.
BUTCH!TRINITY who's obsessed with pussy. Seriously, you often have to push her head away just to get her to give you time to rest after several orgasms on her tongue. Bonus points if you straddle her face, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure.
BUTCH!TRINITY who loves her strap. She loves every dark blue inch disappearing into your pussy or mouth, it doesn't matter. Trinity obsessed with keeping you on her dick and constantly whines into your neck about putting her baby inside you, maybe even two of three.
BUTCH!TRINITY who’s big spoon mostly but she'll definitely look at you with those eyes and pouty lips when she wants you to hold her in your arms. Hug her, hold her close to your chest, and that bear will become a tame dog.
it’s too early, about 7am as you guess with how the sun’s casting through the curtains. you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, a shirt that feels different yet comfortable, and a weight on your thighs…and maybe a bit of drool?
there’s a bit of shuffling under the blanket, feeling the weight on your thighs move a little as though to adjust position. it embarrasses you more that you feel yourself bare, your eyes scanning the room to see your underwear on the floor along with your bra and the pieces of clothing you wore last night.
you look around the room more, trying not to move so much before a particular picture frame causes your breath to hitch.
“shit.” you mutter, eyes widening a little.
her familiar voice mumbles underneath, her voice filled with grogginess and sleep that has you melting into a puddle again.
you lift the blanket up to peek at her lying down in between your legs.
abby’s cheek is squished as it rests on your right thigh, her firm hand caressing your left. your eyes widen fully as you see her in between your legs like that; connecting the dots from your encounter last night. it doesn’t help that you’re completely naked down there as a blush creeps all over your face.
but god, her shirt smells amazing. it smells like her pine soap and that cologne she uses that gets you so hot and bothered. you urge to close your thighs, but if you move, she’ll wake up completely and you’ll embarrass yourself more.
you stop peeking underneath the blanket and just lie down there before you feel her teeth sinking into your inner thigh. you immediately look under the blanket again, and there she is, softly nibbling as her hooded eyes look up at you.
warning(s) - profanity, nipple/breast play, pussy eating, fingering, pet names (baby, good girl), praise kink, dirty talk(?). 18+ only, minors & men dni.
Mel’s favorite thing while eating your pussy is you having a shirt on during it. Her warm hands are resting over your stomach as her fingers rub against it, feeling your skin through the clothing. She loves the way you squirm around, your thighs wrapping around her, legs pulling her closer while her fingers tug on the shirt. It drives her crazy when you don’t have a bra underneath, your breasts jiggling with every thrust her tongue or fingers give you.
Your nipples get hard immediately from the texture brushing over them repeatedly, moans escaping your lips as you get louder. Your cunt is dripping with your arousal while Mel’s tongue sucks it up.
Her hands need to be occupied with something, which, at times, she rests them on top of your nipples, her thumb rubbing them in circles slowly against your shirt. Her tongue sliding in and out of your pussy, your folds feeling good against her lips. Her moans are getting louder because she knows she’s making you feel good.
Mel might have control over your body in moments like this, more than she realizes, but she turns so weak for your pretty moans and whines. Whatever you have to complain about, she’ll listen. She loves hearing your voice as her fingers and mouth fucks you to exhaustion.
“I’m just so tired- fuck, right there, Mel.” You whimper, placing a hand over hers as her index finger moves to your nipple. Rubbing it, her thumb rests on the side, rubbing your shirt back and forth against your skin. Mel hums, twirling her tongue around your clit, before her lips suck at it and press kisses, sliding her tongue down to your folds. You moan as your back arches from the bed.
“I’m listening, baby, keep going.” She whimpers, her tone making your pussy pulsate. You whimper and gulp, struggling to get words out.
“S’just, so much work, so much shit.” You whisper, your voice going hoarse. Her tongue and lips are teasing at your clit while her middle and index finger curls in your cunt, hitting your g-spot while your swollen lips are being kissed.
Your hips buck up, riding Mel’s tongue. She loves it when you use her, loves it when her nose hits against your clit, you can feel it when she sniffs you a little. Your legs are struggling to stay still.
Mel then spits on your pussy, watching it drool down with your arousal. She lets her tongue ride with your movements, circling your folds, not missing a thing. Mel’s middle and index finger, pumping your cum out slowly, wanting it all over her.
“That’s it, baby, such a good girl for me. I got you, it’s okay.” Mel rasps, her cheeks red with sweat forming on her forehead.
You whimper and grip the sheets, closing your eyes, Mel’s fingers at your nipples pitch it a little before rubbing it. You open your eyes and look at her, your stomach turning, seeing her eyes on you. Admiring each reaction you give her, you could feel the smirk almost appearing on her face, that side of her coming through now. The one where she revels in your pleasure, simply because she cannot get enough.
“G-Gonna cum, fuck you feel good.” You moan, jerking your pussy against her mouth harder, needing whatever she could give. Mel sucks at your pretty pussy, tongue, and fingers, keeping at the rhythm that you liked.
Surely enough, you slow down, body exhausted and covered in sweat. You breathe heavily as your pussy pushes out cum, coaxing her fingers and tongue. Mel’s tongue brushes over your clit, watching you jerk even more.
Once you think Mel is fully done, her fingers bring up your cum, and stuff it back into your pussy. Staring at the way some leaks out of your pussy, licking the rest of it before pulling her fingers and tongue away from you.
You look at her, so fucked out and tired, the way she wanted you to be. No more stressed about work or anything else, because she has that taken care of too. She knows how easy it is to be overwhelmed, just like you’re her remedy, she’s yours.
“You okay?” She mutters, moving up to hover over you. You glance at her biceps, muscles slightly flexing. You nod, then look at her face, “Thank you.”
You see a slight smile on her face, deeply appreciating that she can make you feel better. Mel leans closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Get some rest, I’ll get us food.” You nod and watch her move off the bed. You drag her blanket over you as you watch her turn the dim lights off and shut the door behind her.
at the start of your relationship, abby would never just come to you when she’s feeling needy. no, she’d rather walk around in her too-tight tops which are thin enough for you to see her bra underneath.
she’d rather pull out a coin and start idly playing with it, rolling the quarter between her knuckles like second nature and passing it between hands. she’ll make sure it pulls your attention to them — her pretty, thick fingers that were knuckles deep inside you just a few days ago. two of her fingers felt like three of yours, your gummy walls stretched around them and clenching whenever she told you how you’re soaking her fingers, such a messy girl.
she’d rather be ‘too late’ to go to the gym, as if that ever happens, which forces her to work out at home. her legs are spread obscenely wide as she sits on the edge of the bed and does her bicep curls. she can feel you watching her, her muscles straining against her flimsy shirt like it’d tear. she lets out small noises at each curl, the same way she was doing when she had you between her legs and moaning along with her at the taste of her pussy.
she’d rather choose to go any way that allows her to subtly brush up against you. you’re standing in a narrow path? she’s already there trying to squeeze in behind you and ‘move past you’ with her hands settled on your waist. her hand splays at the small of your back, the way it did when she had you bent over for her with your face buried in the pillows. she pressed down and made your arch deeper than you thought possible, thrusting deep into you with her strap. her other hand snaked around you to rub your clit just right.
she’d rather offer to help with your makeup when you’re about to go out, doing your lips isn’t so hard anyway. you’re sitting on the bed as she stands in front of you. she has your chin between her thumb and index finger, tilting your head up as she outlines your lips with liner. you don’t know when, but eventually her hand ends up gently wrapped around your throat as she drags the lip gloss wand along your lips. she’s asking about your day, maybe…? you’re not paying attention anymore, just nodding dumbly as you look up at her with half lidded eyes.
abby will always carefully lay out the crumbs for you, make the work easy. just take the bait, baby. she’ll do it till she sees that familiar look in your eyes, the one that begs her to just stop and keep going at the same time.
she’ll make it seem like you’re the one who couldn’t help yourself and started it all. tch, always so needy, aren’t you? shh, it’s okay. she’ll take care of you. just lay back. that’s it, good girl.
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a/n: soo i was making the meme at the top but seeing that picture of abby made me go Insane so. Yeah. i ended up writing this 💗 soft dom abby for valentines hellll yeah !! enjoy !!
★ Loves laying on your chest. Boobs are like her favorite thing ever so her favorite way to destress is obviously nearly suffocating against them
★ Likes to just hold your boobs sometimes. She'll be half asleep scrolling on her phone just holding one of your boobs. You're not quite sure why she likes it so much, and you know if you press for answer she'll just make up some outlandish exscuse or pout
★ Demands head scratches every night before going to bed. If you say no, she'll pout until you relent
★ Loves paying for you to get your nails mostly because her nightly head scratches are better
★ Gets genuinely irritated if you don't let her hold the door for you, and is, of course, super dramatic about it
"So you hate me and want me to die"
and
"What's the point of me being your girlfriend if I can't get the door for you???"
★ She's obviously just being sassy and not really serious, and her pouting is a little funny
lowkey would love to see loser!abby touching herself to !pornstar reader every night to go to sleep
love loser! abby who's too locked in to actually bother talking to girls (though we all know it wouldn't be hard for her to get a girlfriend with those arms)
tags: NSFW, abby x reader, loser! abby, camgirl! reader, modern au, college au
Abby feels so bad everytime she jerks off to her roommate (you), but you're just so pretty and sweet and she really can't seem to help herself. She's so pent up from her classes (med school really isn't for the weak) and her shitty job at the local gym, coming home to you all smiley and sweet naked her feel so aware of how much a loser she is compared to you.
When simply getting off to the thought of you doesn't work anymore, Abby ends up looking up your description on a porn website (like a horny teenager because she's just too desperate to get off). When she finds a shitty home video of a girl that looks just like you, she thinks she's found her holy grail until the post nut clarity hits and she realizes it is you. The walls are the same shitty beige as your room, the bedspread is that same floral pattern, and there's the stupid band poster you've had up since you moved in over a year ago.
Abby's not quite sure what to do with the knowledge that her sweet roommate makes porn in their free time, but she can't really complain when it gives her real material to think about.
She spends about a week avoiding you, too embarrassed by how she's been unable to stop thinking about the way your tits bounce as you fuck yourself with a dildo, but she forces herself to get used to it.
When you start doing livestreams, Abby knows it's all over for her. She'll be out studying when her phone buzzes, and she's too horny to not watch even though she is in the library.
Brightness turned all the way down, Abby hunches over the stupid cubicle of her college library and watches as you, with your face just out of frame, flirt with the live chat.
"Since I've reached a thousand followers, which thank you by the way," you murmur all sweetly, your pretty lacy bra stretched over your chest. The way you're sitting emphasizes your hips and thighs. All Abby wants to do is press her face between them. "Thought I'd do a little giveaway! Winner gets a private video call with me." Abby pales, and she knows she's so fucked.
