❥ She melts for the simplest touches. your fingers brushing through her hair, your hand against her scarred knuckles, the way you trace circles into her shoulders after a long day. It undoes her. She’ll sit there with her head bowed, letting you undo the armor.
❥ In bed, Abby is all dominance until you remind her she doesn’t have to be. She loves giving up control to you, loves when you pin her wrists or whisper what you want. She craves the safety of letting someone else take over — but only if it’s you. With anyone else, she’d never allow that vulnerability.
❥ She blushes (though she’ll deny it) when you call her “good girl.” There’s something about praise from your lips that cuts through every wall she’s built, makes her shiver even harder than when you touch her. You’re the only one who sees her like this, who knows that under all that strength, she aches to be cherished.
❥ Abby spoils you quietly — carrying your bag, making sure you’ve eaten, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you fall asleep. But she also adores when you spoil her back. She’ll grumble about you fussing over her, yet she leans into it every single time.
❥ She always smells faintly of cedar and clean sweat, and when she hugs you from behind, arms tight around your waist, she buries her face against your neck like she’s breathing you in. That’s when she feels safest. That’s when she whispers things she’d never admit with the lights on.
❥ Nobody would believe the way Abby looks at you when you’re alone. This woman who could break bones with her bare hands will sit between your thighs, eyes wide and worshipful, waiting for your next command. To the world, she’s unshakable. To you, she’s soft, pliant, yours.
❥ She acts like she’s on top of everything, but you catch her doing little things like burning toast because she got distracted watching you walk across the room. She pretends she’s unfazed, but her ears go red when you laugh and kiss her cheek for trying.
❥ She loves physical closeness in the most casual ways — sitting with her thigh pressed to yours, resting her huge hand on your knee while she’s reading, hugging you from behind while you’re cooking. Abby needs to feel you near; it keeps her grounded after everything she’s been through. Abby would kill to keep you safe, but what really unravels her is when you take care of her. When you patch up her scraped knuckles, or run your fingers through her hair until she falls asleep, Abby goes quiet in that way that means she’s fighting tears. She doesn’t know how to ask for softness, but she melts when you give it freely.
❥ Abby is loud when she’s letting go. She tries to muffle it by biting her lip, hiding her face in your shoulder — but if you push her far enough, she’ll beg. The kind of begging no one else on earth would ever hear from her, low and desperate, all for you.
❥ Praise ruins her. You call her a good girl and her whole body shudders like you flipped a switch. She’ll do anything to earn it again — faster, deeper, whatever you ask. For someone who dominates the outside world, Abby thrives on being told she’s enough for you.
❥ She secretly loves when you steal her clothes. She’ll grumble about it — “That’s my favorite hoodie” — but then she sees you wrapped up in it, drowning in the fabric that still smells like her, and she gets this soft, proud look like she wants to frame the moment.
❥ Abby listens more than she talks, but she remembers everything. You’ll mention your favorite snack once, and the next time she goes out, it’ll magically show up in the cupboard. You’ll tell her a silly story, and weeks later she’ll bring it up just to hear you laugh again.
❥ When Abby finally got her hands on you, it wasn’t careful or planned — it was desperate. She kissed you like she’d been starving, lips crashing against yours as her hands gripped your waist, sliding down until she caught a handful of your ass. The sound she made against your mouth was half-growl, half-whimper, like she couldn’t decide whether to devour you or collapse into you.
❥“I missed you,” she breathed between kisses, her voice breaking in a way that made your chest ache. The confession was raw, almost frustrated, like she hated how much she needed you. And you knew it wasn’t just about chores — it was about her whole world feeling incomplete without you in it.
❥ When your eyes dropped, you caught the way her pants were straining, her body betraying just how worked up she was. She noticed you noticing, and her head tilted back to meet your gaze, pupils blown wide. That eye contact hit harder than the kisses — she was pleading with her eyes before a word even left her lips.
❥ You pressed your hand against the bulge in her pants, feeling her cock pulse under your touch, and Abby nearly folded right there. She made a sound low in her throat, desperate and small, her forehead pressed to yours like she couldn’t take it. Her whole body trembled under the simplest touch, like she’d been waiting forever for this.
❥ But you didn’t give in right away. You held her gaze, steady and unrelenting, while your hand teased her through the fabric. Abby begged — not just asked, begged — for more. Every word was shaky, her voice catching, her hips jerking forward on instinct. You wanted her to scream for it, to break under the waiting, and from the look in her wide, pleading eyes, she was already close.
❥ Her breath hitched when your hand pressed against the bulge in her pants. The way her body reacted wasn’t calculated — it was desperate, raw, her hips jerking forward like she couldn’t control herself. Abby’s forehead dropped to yours, her breath shaky, her pupils wide, like she was trying not to beg already.
❥ You kept your hand steady, just teasing pressure through the fabric, rubbing slow enough to make her whine low in her throat. She tried to act like she could handle it, biting her lip, growling under her breath, but her body betrayed her. You could feel how hard she was, how badly she needed more.
❥ When you finally shoved her pants down, she gasped like she thought she was getting what she wanted — but you didn’t give it to her. Not yet. Her underwear stayed on, the thin fabric already damp, clinging to her. You kissed her through it, soft, deliberate, right over the tip. Abby let out a broken sound, half-growl, half-plea, her hands fisting the sheets so she wouldn’t grab you and take.
❥“Please,” she finally breathed, the word cracking in the middle, her voice stripped of all that strength she carried in daylight. It was the only permission you needed. You pressed your mouth against her, deeper this time, sucking until her thighs shook around you. The second you dragged her underwear down and took her fully into your mouth, Abby shattered. She came with a cry she couldn’t hold back, clutching at you like she’d break without you there to steady her.
❥ She’ll roll her eyes when you tell her to drink water, mutter “yes, ma’am” under her breath when you give her instructions, but the truth is she loves it. Loves the way you don’t let her get away with anything, the way you hold her accountable with nothing more than a look. She’ll push just enough for you to catch her, because surrendering to you is the only place she feels safe.
❥ Sometimes she tests you on purpose. Abby will pin you down, her teeth at your throat, grinning with the thrill of being in charge. But when you flip her, when you tell her she doesn’t get to decide — her eyes roll back, her body arches, and the dominance leaks out of her in shaky whimpers.
