My Sweet Abigail, These Crazies On Tumblr Don’t Understand You. Normalize The Soft, Gentle Abby That

my sweet abigail, these crazies on tumblr don’t understand you. normalize the soft, gentle abby that we all know and love, not the degrading abuser you guys love to write her as for some reason

If You Think Abby Anderson Would Hurt Her Partner Just Because She Can Deadlift A Bear, You Haven’t

If you think Abby Anderson would hurt her partner just because she can deadlift a bear, you haven’t been paying attention.

This powerhouse of a woman would drag a wounded stranger through a burning village and then apologize for getting ash on their clothes.

Listen.

Abby sees you flinch when a door slams, and her heart breaks in six different directions.

She doesn’t push for details right away and she waits. She gives you space to process. When you’re ready to talk, she listens like there’s nothing more important to her in the universe. To her, there isn't.

Abby is not the type to throw mantras at you without thinking. She doesn’t try to convince you that you’re safe with her, or that you’re safe now.

She shows you. Over and over again.

She gently untangles your trauma narratives and walks beside you as you unlearn the voice in your head that whispers it was your fault. She reminds you that love is not supposed to hurt like that, and surviving isn’t weakness. You’re strong as hell, and Abby helps you feel it.

And goddamn, if you freeze in public, this girl shifts into protective mode instantly. She’s got one arm around your shoulder before you even realize you need grounding. She knows what you need because she’s been in your shoes and it’s her priority to pay attention.

One of my personal favourites? She’s brilliant at building routines that work with your sensory needs. Bad day? No problemo. Abby has the lights low, all the cozy textures within reach. She’s your stability when everything shakes beneath your feet.

She isn’t a miracle worker, obviously. She is healing, too. She makes mistakes. They're never the kind of mistakes that force you to question her integrity and trustworthiness, though.

The first time you spiral, she asks what helps you. Hell, she may need to do this a few times over. The difference is, she memorizes your answers. This badass soldier gives a shit. She isn’t perfect, but she doesn’t leave you to suffer alone, ever. She reminds you that you’re not a burden and that your meltdowns aren’t brokenness.

With her actions. Because she shows up in a real way and not some regurgitated thing she saw go viral.

When you casually apologize for being too much, she looks at you like you’ve just insulted Mother Earth.

Okay and yeah, so she encourages you to hit the weights. It’s one of her personal coping mechanisms, and she’s fallen in love with it alongside the trauma that pushed her to pick up that first dumbbell. She wants you to know what it feels like to have quick access to taking your power back. But she doesn’t just slap you on the ass and tell you to hit the gym like some common douchebag. She wants to spend time with you and share her passions.

She lifts with you. She stretches with you. This girl wants to learn trauma informed exercise goals that aren’t about punishing your body because she has sure as shit punished hers. Abby wants better for you.

Maybe through this, she finds ways to be gentler with herself.

And my girl is a praise queen.

Enough said.

You did good. I’m so fucking proud of you.

In a modern setting, Abby definitely helps you set up your own bank account and encourages you to track your finances in a way that gives you full control over your safety and your future. She wants you to succeed, with or without her.

If You Think Abby Anderson Would Hurt Her Partner Just Because She Can Deadlift A Bear, You Haven’t

People assume far too much based on Abby’s build. I’ve seen her written like a man (at one point, most, if not all fics permanently fixed her to a strap-on, without ever acknowledging her actual body), fetishized as a monster, and stripped of her softness entirely.

Strength and tenderness coexist.

Writers who recognize this, understand the weight of characterization and how misrepresentation can be harmful.

I appreciate those of you who respect it and pour your heart into your art. It really shows, no matter how many kudos or whatever.

Keep going.

Abby would want you to.

More Posts from Jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw and Others

cowboy abs! this is actually my fav piece ive done in like. forever.

Cowboy Abs! This Is Actually My Fav Piece Ive Done In Like. Forever.
A Short Crossover Comic I Did To Celebrate Reaching 1k On Another Platform (almost 1k On Here Too Omg???)
A Short Crossover Comic I Did To Celebrate Reaching 1k On Another Platform (almost 1k On Here Too Omg???)
A Short Crossover Comic I Did To Celebrate Reaching 1k On Another Platform (almost 1k On Here Too Omg???)
A Short Crossover Comic I Did To Celebrate Reaching 1k On Another Platform (almost 1k On Here Too Omg???)
A Short Crossover Comic I Did To Celebrate Reaching 1k On Another Platform (almost 1k On Here Too Omg???)

A short crossover comic I did to celebrate reaching 1k on another platform (almost 1k on here too omg???) it was posted in two parts hence the “to be continued” but DAMN this took forever! So cool to see it all together!!

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever she could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining
No Lube, No Protection, All Night, All Day, From The Kitchen Floor To The Toilet Seat, From The Dining

(i know the strap game is other worldly)


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“abby shouldn’t have tortured joel/abby should’ve made it quick” have you never considered maybe she (and the rest of the salt lake crew) wanted him to experience all the pain he caused at saint mary’s? not just her dad’s pain or her own grief but everyone else’s, too?

Can we please stop comparing Abby's body to male bodies? It's kinda fucking gross. Thanks.

I hate this for her. I hate this for all my friends in the gym who face this daily.

Can We Please Stop Comparing Abby's Body To Male Bodies? It's Kinda Fucking Gross. Thanks.

Abby is a woman. Yes, a very muscular woman. But she has a vagina. She has feminine traits, too. She doesn't talk like a man. She doesn't act like a man. She does not, I repeat, does not look like a man.

The fact that this keeps happening is exactly why we need more muscular women in media.

Can We Please Stop Comparing Abby's Body To Male Bodies? It's Kinda Fucking Gross. Thanks.

Album dropping in 2025. 🤣

"There's No Way Abby Looks Like This. Totally Unrealistic."

"There's no way Abby looks like this. Totally unrealistic."

Beyond the functional aspect of her survival training, her daily life is a rigorous workout that mimics a lot of what you’d see in strength training. Combine intense physical activity with a nutritious diet and Abby’s discipline (and trauma responses)—voila. You’ve got yourself one badass military woman.

We're not even considering her genetics, which can pack a serious punch, too.

You can find nearly any type of sustainable food source at the stadium—fish, meat, cheese, eggs, milk, beans, rice, fruits, vegetables, you name it. She has access to calorie dense, protein-rich foods every day. And that's before taking into account the balanced, resourceful meals the cooks could create to maximize the food supply using various recipes.

I'd bore you with the approximate specifics of Abby’s dietary needs for muscle maintenance, but it’s way more fun to explore the game's world instead.

I highly recommend it, even. There’s so much to take in.

Yeah, it's kinda subtle in places, but many parts are really in your face.

An example of this? Isaac doesn't sweat losing a hatchery to the Seraphites. He’s confident the wild salmon they’re fishing will keep them covered. You just can't make that call when your soldiers are starving, in my opinion.

I don't want to randomly assume that most men who hate Abby are super salty about women who are more muscular than them, but... based on some of the reviews and gameplay reactions, holy guacamole.

"It's not about her being muscular!" Yeah, okay.

(Proceeds to mock her physical appearance forever.)

The fragile male ego is poppin', man.

Abby thinks dudes like this need to stop skipping leg day and grow a pair. 😏

"There's No Way Abby Looks Like This. Totally Unrealistic."

they prove time and time again media literacy is dead! i’ll defend her till my lungs give out (although i will always prefer game abby to show abby 😪)

the abby haters are already out here obnoxiously hating on her after s2ep2 and i’m truly in the trenches defending her against these close-minded hooligans this is horrible but i’ve gotta keep on going 💔 i’ve gotta be here to defend my bbg abby I HAVE GOT TO KEEP ON FIGHTING THROUGH THIS MENTAL TORMENT


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just wanna mention that mel and owen were never “wife and husband” or even engaged either though. not sure where that narrative comes from. and he and mel hadn’t seen each other in weeks/months by the time the boat scene happened between him and abby, where he had her under the impression he was leaving mel.

🗣️: "...Abby’s bad because she 'stole' Owen from his wife and child"

but if you look at the characters so narrow-mindedly, here's what happens: Abby, Mel and Owen were childhood friends (information from the official artbook).

Mel was a close friend of Abby, which is confirmed in the note lies in Abby's backpack in the chapter "Zoo". moreover, Abby arranged for Mel to become an apprentice to her father, the best surgeon in Seattle, where she studied, and after Jerry's death she became a good doctor.

how did Mel repay? as soon as Abby started having a hard time, and her personality began to split due to an unbearable desire for revenge, when even her closest person ended a relationship with her, Mel... began a relationship with Owen. despite the fact the breakup was clearly not Abby's initiative, and she NEVER stopped loving Owen.

so Mel's bad, then? NOTHING LIKE THAT !

since Abby's relationship with Owen was over, and Abby clearly no longer focused on them openly (after the breakup, she started things in the gym much more, because what else could she do in her free time except read and train), why would Mel suddenly think abt Abby's feelings when she has her own?

it’s the same with Abby. continued to love Owen all the time, she felt disappointed and jealous, seeing that her lover listens so sensitively to Mel's "wishes" (decorating the aquarium for Christmas). with her trauma, which literally destroyed her personality, i’m sure she had some kind of hypersensitivity too. why was she obligated to think abt Mel at the moment when Owen first opened up to her completely, expressing everything that he had accumulated over the years?

i can talk abt Owen for a very long time. in the Christmas flashback at the aquarium (where, btw, he decorated all aquarium for Mel), he sincerely wanted to distract Abby from the desire for revenge, so that she would finally relax and live at least one evening without the thought that she needed to kill someone. it’s all just for Abby.

each of them is selfish. everyone thought first of themselves, and not abt any moral principles. just like real people do. and that's why i love tlou - the most "humanized" characters, which are incredibly interesting to analyze from each side.

i hope people will stop making scapegoats of Abby, Owen and Mel, and finally get into their stories 🙏🙏

🗣️: "...Abby’s Bad Because She 'stole' Owen From His Wife And Child"
🗣️: "...Abby’s Bad Because She 'stole' Owen From His Wife And Child"

abby anderson x reader smut 𐙚

soft!abby / switch!abby x fem!reader /afab

cw: nsfw, slow lesbian sex, spitting, ✄

-mdni pls! 18+

・—— ・ ୨୧ ・—— ・ ・—— ・ ୨୧ ・—— ・

The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Outside, it had started to rain— light and steady, a soothing hush against the windows. The air in Abby's room felt thick with something unspoken— anticipation, yes, but more than that, trust. The soft patter of rain against the windows filled the space, a quiet rhythm that seemed to echo the thrum of your heart.

You were curled beside Abby in bed, wearing one of her old shirts with one leg tucked over hers, your hand resting gently on her bare stomach. Your touch lingered there, unmoving, like you were trying to ground yourself. Abby laid beside you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips — slow and gentle, like you had all the time in the world. Her hands framed your jaw as she deepened the kiss just slightly, savoring the feeling.

Abby didn't push. She never did. Every kiss was patient. Every touch asked for permission. She never took what you didn't offer freely.

"I want you," you whispered. Your voice trembled, but not with fear — with emotion. "All of me... it's yours. If you want it."

Abby nodded slowly, then leaned in to press a kiss to your temple - no rush, no pressure, just the press of lips that said I'm here, as she reached up to gently tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

When your mouths met, it was soft. Exploratory. Not hungry, but intentional. Abby kissed you like a promise, like she had all the time in the world. No expectations, just warmth. You melted into it, hands sliding up Abby's shoulders, drawing her closer, breathing her in— that familiar scent of pine and rain and something uniquely Abby. It calmed your nerves like nothing else.

Abby's thumb brushed gently over your cheekbone, her hand cupping the side of your face. The warmth of her touch alone made your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed not by fear, but by how safe you felt. Abby leaned in, kissing you softly, lips brushing yours with affection, no rush behind it— just patience, and presence.

"You don't have to be nervous," Abby whispered, her breath warm against your mouth. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," you said, a little breathless.

Abby's voice was low, near a whisper. "I just wanna love you the right way."

And she did. She kissed every part of you she was allowed to— your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, the soft dip beneath your ear. Each touch was patient, asked for with quiet looks, and granted with shy nods. Your breath would hitch, then settle, each time you gave permission. Your skin warmed under Abby's hands, softening beneath her like you were unfolding for the first time in years.

There was no fumbling, no rush. Just soft sighs and shivery exhales. Abby traced slow, careful paths across your skin— nothing more than the pads of her fingers, and sometimes her mouth, learning what made you relax, what made you laugh a little, what made your eyelids flutter shut with a tremble of trust. She cradled your face like something precious, her thumbs stroking soft arcs against your cheeks.

Her touch was full of intention— adoration, unhurried. She didn't rush past the layers. She traced your skin with her hands and her lips, memorizing the soft parts of you, the scar beneath your ribs, the slope of your hip, the tiny mole behind your knee. She kissed your thighs and told you you were beautiful. She whispered, "Tell me what you need.”

Abby guided you down against the pillows, climbing over you carefully, legs tangling as you laid back. Her hands never roaming without permission, every touch was intentional, soft, grounding. She kissed along your throat, your collarbone, the edge of your shoulder, feeling your breath stutter beneath her.

She whispered as she went, anchoring you with her words. "You're safe. You're mine. You're beautiful."

Your fingers clutched gently at Abby's sides, your body humming with nerves and anticipation, but not fear. There was something tender in the way you looked up at Abby— wide open, no defenses left.

Abby took her time, kissing you slowly as her hand trailed downward, slipping her hand under the hem of your shirt, pausing. "Can I?"

You nodded, cheeks flushed, voice barely audible. "Yes. Please."

Abby pushed the fabric up inch by inch, revealing smooth skin and the subtle rise and fall of your chest. She took a moment just to look at you — the flushed pink in your cheeks, the nerves in your eyes. She leaned down and pressed a kiss between your breasts, then over the swell of one, her hand resting lightly just below.

Her hand moved lower, fingers brushing along your stomach before settling between your thighs. She paused again, waiting for the nod, the quiet, "Yes," that you gave her. A soft gasp left you as she touched you, your back arching slightly, legs parting to invite her in.

Abby kissed you again as she slid her fingers down and found you already warm, aching, ready. Gently, she traced against your skin, just the lightest touch, until your hips tipped forward instinctively. She kissed you through it, tongue slipping into your mouth in a slow, careful rhythm that matched the movement of her hand.

You whimpered softly when Abby slipped a finger inside— slow, smooth, filling you just enough to make your breath hitch. Abby kept it gentle, curling her finger as she kissed the curve of your throat, your jaw, your lips again. She added a second finger when you asked for it, her other hand cradling your cheek like you were something precious.

Abby took her time. She whispered how good you were doing, how beautiful you looked, how proud she was of you. Her fingers were gentle but sure, moving with a rhythm that gradually built as she listened to your breath, your little gasps, the shaky way you whispered her name.

"You feel so good," Abby whispered, voice low, lips brushing your ear. "You're doing so well, baby."

You body tensed for a moment — but Abby kissed you just then, slow and anchoring, and you relaxed into it, into her. You let your head fall back against the pillow, thighs parting wider on their own, and let yourself feel.

Your voice was breathy, barely there. "Don't stop."

Abby didn't. She reached one hand between them to tilt your chin up, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

"Open your mouth for me," she said, voice husky.

Your lips parted. Abby held your gaze, then let a slow stream of spit fall onto your tongue. You whimpered, eyes fluttering closed, heat rushing through you as you swallowed.

She moved her fingers with a patient rhythm, listening to every sound you made — the quiet moan, the stuttered breath, the way your hips rolled into her touch. When her thumb brushed against your clit you gasped, your hand grabbing at Abby's forearm.

"Shh, I've got you," Abby whispered, kissing you again, "Come on, sweetheart. Let go for me."

You were trembling now, hips moving without thought, chasing it. Abby pressed her forehead to yours as she brought you higher, never once breaking contact, grounding you every second. You came with a soft cry, legs trembling, body arching beneath Abby as pleasure crested through you — not sharp or overwhelming, but deep, slow and controlled. You curled into Abby's arms immediately after, face buried in her neck like you never wanted to let go.

When it passed, Abby kissed your forehead, brushing sweaty hair from your face. "You okay?" she asked, voice low, eyes searching.

You nodded, smiling as you tried to catch your breath. "I didn't know I could feel safe like that. I didn't know sex could... feel like that."

Abby leaned in, nose brushing yours. "It's not just sex. It's us." She held you, arms wrapped around you, letting you melt into her chest.

When you finally stirred, cheeks still pink, voice a little shy, you whispered, "Lie down. Let me touch you, too."

"You don't have to-"

"I want to," you said, with just a touch of certainty in your voice now. "Let me take care of you."

Abby lay back as you curled beside her, tracing fingers down her ribs, her stomach, watching every reaction with quiet care. It was slower still, more exploratory, but filled with just as much intention. Offering her trust back, not only in words, but through every soft kiss, every shaky breath, and every time you whispered, "I want to make you feel safe too."

You shifted her gently, laying Abby back against the pillows, slowly moving over her, hands skimming across her warm, freckled skin, every muscle relaxed, open, steady. Her breath caught when you kissed along her collarbone, teeth grazing gently before your tongue soothed the spot. Taking your time, memorizing everything, brushing your mouth over Abby's throat, the swell of her chest, the strong lines of her stomach. Your hands were mindful, always watching for even the smallest change in Abby's breathing, the smallest flutter in her eyes.

When you finally slipped your fingers between her thighs, your touch was delicate, achingly gentle— learning what Abby liked, what made her shift, what made her sigh your name. She let out a breathy, soft sigh, her fingers tightening in your hair. She wasn't used to being the one held like this, touched like this, like she was precious. But you gave her that, slow and purposeful, lips and hands moving with a kind of gentleness she hadn't been shown before.

You moved with a rhythm that wasn't rushed, intentional, syncing your own breath to Abby's as you eased in slowly, curling your fingers and finding that spot that made Abby's hips twitch. Abby let out a breathy moan, one arm thrown over her eyes as if the feeling was too much as you kissed her shoulder and whispered, "I've got you.” Your mouth was never far from Abby's skin — murmuring things you weren’t brave enough to say in the light of day. I love you. You're safe. You deserve this.

And you meant it. When Abby came, it was quiet and deep — her body arching up, breath stuttering, your name on her lips like a prayer. Abby's breath caught, hips twitching up as she came undone beneath her, voice catching on a low, "Fuck, baby-"

You kissed the edge of her hip as you slowed your movements, not pulling away until Abby was completely spent beneath her. You crawled back up, draping yourself carefully across Abby's chest, heart thudding in tandem with hers. Abby's arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close.

You stayed like that for a while, silent, breathing together. And then you pressed a kiss to the middle of her chest, eyes fluttering shut. "You make me feel safe," you said softly.

Abby kissed your hair. "You are safe."

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Wrapped up in each other, hearts exposed and unguarded, you found something neither of you thought you’d ever get to have— healing that telt like love.

The sheets were a mess. You laid sprawled and breathless, skin flushed and still tingling from the way Abby had taken you apart. But your eyes never left Abby's face - her flushed cheeks, the wild strands of hair stuck to her forehead, the slight tremble in her arms.

You eached out and brushed your knuckles down Abby's stomach. "Again?"

Abby gave a lazy, crooked smirk, like she was going to argue, always hesitant, always putting you first.

But you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her jaw as you pushed yourself up and gently straddled one of Abby's thighs, easing the other between your own. Your bodies slotted together easily, slick heat meeting slick heat, thighs sliding into place with instinctual precision. The contact was immediate— teasing, electric.

Abby's eyes darkened. "Fuck," she murmured, already shifting to grind back against you. "You're soaked."

"So are you." you leaned in and kissed her, deeper now, slower, one hand cupping the side of her neck, the other holding her hip steady.

She started slow, rocking her hips forward, letting their bodies slide together in a messy, wet rhythm that made them both gasp. Your hand clenched at the sheets, your other gripping Abby’s thigh. She looked up at you like she was in awe — like you’d hung the moon and were now crashing it directly into her.

Your hips moved in tandem, slow and grinding, the friction delicious — slippery, messy, intimate. Every shift of your bodies drew a new gasp, a new moan, a new wave of sensation as your clits slid and rubbed with increasing pressure.

You kept your eyes on Abby's, your voice a low whisper between gasps. "You feel so good against me, babe."

Abby's lips parted around a moan, her head tipping back as her legs spread wider, instinctively trying to give more. Your clits met again and again with every glide, every messy thrust of hips. The pressure built steadily — the intimacy of it made it even heavier.

You dragged your nails down Abby’s back, gasping when she shifted the angle just slightly, making every movement rub directly against the most sensitive spot.

Abby whimpered as you kissed her jaw, her cheek, her mouth and you felt the shiver pass through you.

You let your hand slide along Abby's ribs, then up to cup her chest, pulling her in closer with a quiet whimper. "Fuck, Abs-"

Abby grinned against your lips. "You gonna come for me like this?"

You nodded again, breathless, your whole body trembling. "Don't stop."

"I'm not," Abby murmured, rolling her hips harder now, moving faster, chasing it with you. "Come for me, baby. Let me see you."

The pace quickened, not frenzied but desperate in a softer way — the kind of urgency that came from needing more closeness, not more speed. Her legs trembled, thighs flexing as your legs pushed against each other, slick with arousal, breathing heavy and open-mouthed against one another.

Your hands found each other's faces in the last stretch, lips barely brushing as you gasped, trembling and moaning into each other's mouths as the waves hit, twin releases cresting at once. You cried out, low and guttural, your hand gripping Abby’s shoulder as your body locked up, thighs shaking, back arching. The orgasm hit in a slow, rolling wave— the kind that left you gasping and open and utterly undone. Your body shuddered against Abby's, and Abby's grip on you tightened, holding you close, both of you panting.

Abby didn't stop right away. She rode it out with you, grinding down until you whimpered from overstimulation, clutching her tightly, your foreheads pressed together, sweat-damp skin sliding.

When it was over, you collapsed against her, and she wrapped both arms around you, holding you close, still trying to catch her breath. You stayed tangled, legs still pressed together, hearts pounding in sync, skin damp and flushed. You buried her face in Abby's neck as she breathed, pressing a kiss into your hair.

When you finally settled under the sheets together, skin still humming, you curled into Abby's chest. Abby held you there, her arm firm around your back, her chin resting in your hair.

"Thank you," you murmured, thumb brushing Abby's ribs where her heart beat steady.

Abby kissed your forehead. "You never have to thank me for being gentle with you." she whispered, holding you tighter, pulling the blankets over both of you, wrapping you up in warmth and safety.

You stayed like that for awhile, tangled in warmth and affection, drifting off with hands still clasped beneath the sheets.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

ahh okay that was my first time writing something like this and i’m honestly nervous about how this is gonna be perceived lmao but if you guys liked it i may be able to be persuaded to post more…

dt: @electricneonvalkyrie ✮⋆˙ since you dared me to


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