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atyourmerci · 2 days

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Softdom!abby X plus sized insecure reader ♡

Abby painting all the things she loves about your body

CW: smut, MDNI, softdom!abby, sub!reader, plussized!reader, reader is anxious, me making up shit ab artistry, face sitting, fingering, mult orgasms

♡ ♡

In your sun kissed painting room, abby lies against your velvet couch, her blonde hair glowing against her pale flesh. She often modeled for all of your class assignments so she was used to her spotlight.

She loved watching you at work, so concentrated as you perfected your craft. She would do anything for you, she just wanted to help her beautiful girl.

As your eyes are trained on the majority of a blank canvas you zone in on creating your base, knowing your girlfriend would stay still so you can get your perfect shot.

“Why don’t you ever let me pain you?” Is heard from behind the white canvas propped up on your easel.

It caught you so off guard your head peaks around the board to look at your girlfriend. hmmm? Comes out as an honest confusion.

She giggles to herself at how locked in you truly were, “why don’t I ever paint you?” She reiterates.

You giggle back at her question, “because you can’t paint for shit,” you toy with her playfully.

“And what if I wanted to try huh, maybe I’m not using the right medium perhaps,” she comes back with a sophisticated air to her tone.

“Yeah yeah okay, just sit and look pretty,” you say getting back to your work when you hear a rustling, seeing her get up from the couch to approach you, “don’t move! That was a perfect-,” before you could finish her hands are wrapped around your stomach as she kisses the side of your face.

You can’t seem to protest with the naked woman behind you, touches of her sun soaked skin drenching you. You lean into it, letting her do as she pleased.

“I want to paint you,” she says in between peppering kisses down your neck. You giggle at her insistence, “baby I think we’ve been over th-,”

“No, no I want you paint on you,” she whispers into your ear as her hand cups your jaw gently.

“N-now? Right now?” You turn to face her, she had to be joking, right? Abby watches you with doe eyes, nodding back at you.

“But it’s bright in here,” you say averting your glance, the pit in your stomach growing with anxiety of the thought. Your nervous tick of flexing your fingers beginning, and abby notices.

Taking your palms into her own and rubbing circles with her thumbs on top of your hands in order to soothe you.

“I know. I want to admire every part of you. I want you to see what I see baby. Is that okay?”

A white tapestry lies beneath your barren body, stripped of all the confines and masks you build up to protect perception.

There’s no real reason to hide from abby. She adored every inch of you. Every marking on your body was akin to threads of gold to her.

Now tracing them with your paintbrushes, creating flowers from the stretch marks on your stomach, one of the biggest insecurities you had.

You once tried to hide them, turning around to change, avoiding mirrors that may give away your secrets. She’d trace them in the safety in the darkness, admiring your body for taking care of you, protecting you when she couldn’t.

As she aimlessly paints away at your flesh she admires her artwork, not the paint itself, but her own human body sculpted for her eyes. She rambles on about how you represent the body of a Greek goddess, full and radiant.

Her light touches, soft words, and longing glances sending you into the deepest form of arousal you’d ever known.

To be loved is to be seen

Beginning to form dainty flowers amongst the stretch marks in your inner thighs you couldn’t take it anymore, breath getting heavier, her mouth beginning to gape at your dripping arousal…so close to her touch.

“Please sit on my face,” she sounded depraved, as if she’d die without it.

“B-but the paint,” you breathe out, not giving a shit, but knowing there would be a mess.

“I don’t fucking care, please baby,” she pleas, gripping into the flesh of your thighs.

You’d never done this, allowed yourself that vulnerability. You’d berate your thoughts, always worrying you’d be too heavy. What if she thought you were too much, too heavy for her? Would it change her mind about you?

She guides you above your mouth, paint smearing across her cheeks. You begin at a hover, attempting to make yourself lighter, more palatable.

“Baby all of you, please I need you,” you hear from her, tugging on your thighs to sit comfortably on top of her.

A sigh of relief floods you, releasing the tension and submitting to her completely.

If she could have eaten you whole, she would have. Sloppily licking down your cunt, pressing down your thighs to get as close as she could.

She made you whine and shake till your tired limbs gave out, falling down onto her, letting your body rest completely. Planting kisses on your forehead while she runs her fingertips through your hair.

“Let me do the work this time, just lay there and look pretty,” she says gazing down at you with a grin, knowing she’s stealing your line.

Your body sprawled out on the cloth, completely revealed to her open-mouthed gaze, sun kissing your sweaty flesh.

Driving her fingers into you she can’t help but stare at your pretty mess, paint covered, soaking cunt all of her. “Look so fucking pretty like this,” she coos, sending your head back in pleasure.

The feeling of full liberation, complete autonomy over your body, at the hands of her.

‘mine mine my girl my fucking pretty girl’ she can’t stop herself from babbling, watching as her piece of art comes to life.

Even after you finish from her fingers she can’t stop looking, obsessed, utterly enthralled at the thought of getting the honor of fucking a goddess.

Dried paint chips away at your bodies as the sun goes down. Bare bodies lying there for hours. Maybe you’d never leave this moment.

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou x reader #abby x you #dom abby anderson #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #plus size reader

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r3starttt · 3 days

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GOOD LUCK, BABE!

cw: tlou universe. Comphet Abby, slightly suggestive. Angst. Sad ending!!!

an: not proud!! forgive me if this sucks, I just needed to write this

Approximately three hours passed by since she left that good night kiss on the man sleeping next to her. Abby had been tossing around in bed endlessly, first being unable to sleep and then fighting with herself to stay asleep, trying to find calm and comfort within the torture her mind was going through. The endless corridor, the blood on the wall, her hands desperately gripping the dead body, her dad’s empty body. It had been a while since she’s got that nightmare, but so far, she had learned to manage it. Maybe because you weren’t there.

She jolted awake, her heart racing and her breaths coming in shallow gasps. It was in that moment of vulnerability that the floodgates of her suppressed emotions burst open. In fact, there had been plenty reasons for her emotions to burst. You being the main reason.

Settling herself in bed, trying to catch her breath as her elbows rested on the mattress, holding her whole weight. Her gaze shifted next to her, the man sleeping on her side still unaware of the situation. unusual considering he’d wake her up most times. At least he cared about her, it was real love coming from his side.

She had gotten used to this in a desperate attempt to find an explanation for everything. Forcing herself into believing it was her father the reason behind it all. Yet, despide the effort, she found herself haunted by memories that refused to leave her mind and heart alone at any time.

But oh she’s stubborn, so, for years she made it work. Abby had spent so long trying to fit into the mold her own mind had built for her, trying to convince herself she was fine, she had been burying her feelings, making anybody else responsible for them, anyone but herself.

Her fingers ran over the man’s hand, resting over her lap. Gently, she tossed it away, placing it over his own body.

The cold air hit her body once she moved the blanket down her knees, standing up. her arms moved as a reflex, hugging her own body. She needed the comfort.

With slow steps she got out the bed, then out of the room, her heart kept beating in such way it had became unbearable. All because of you.

Because she had gotten over the idea of her dad being ripped from her, she knew she wasn’t guilty, she had no control over it, there was nothing she could’ve done to prevent it or make it hurt less. But you, she could’ve done something for you, she had, indeed control about the whole situation and she could’ve done so much to prevent it, but she didn’t.

And not only was she the reason of it all but she could never apologize. And the last memory she had about you was painful, because of how she made you feel, because of what she said and what she did to you, because of what you replied to her. Because you were right, and she was not. And that broke her soul.

You knew her so well you knew how she’d end. With a man she doesn’t love, regretting everything she had ever done and feeling alone even when she’s not. Because that’s her. And you made sure to let her know that the last time you two ever spoke.

And so far, she was able to keep the memory blurry and locked somewhere in her. Until tonight.

You felt so warm, embracing her empty body, telling her everything would be just fine, saying sorry repeatedly for her lost. Maybe it broke her that it wasn’t just a nightmare, but a memory.

Because Owen didn’t even bother to ask her if she was right when he first saw her after her father’s dead. Not because he didn’t care but because he had no clue of what had happened. But you? you where there, you saw it too and never left her side after that, not until she pushed you away.

You met her when fireflies were still a thing, and never left her side since the moment you crossed paths. You swore you were soulmates, and she never said otherwise. She never did, not even now.

You were her childhood best friend, and she was yours, and god you two made sure everyone knew.

Her friends were your friends, her family was your family, you shared everything, knew everything about the other. And even after years both can agree there could never be a replacement for that, maybe because you met being so young but, the bond between both is a once in a lifetime kind.

After her dad died you were all left for her, well, the closest to family she had, she was never alone. And that was the problem, she had everything and everyone a human could wish for in such times like those, but it wasn’t enough for her.

It wasn’t enough because her mind always messed things for her, because her dad and what had happened to him kept making harm, not only in her but in others.

She got blinded by the pain on her heart, and even like that you never left her side, never.

You took care of her, waking her up if she had a nightmare, holding her until she fell asleep. Abby always felt so ashamed of it.

That until she felt the need of staying by your side, not only because you were all she had but because she felt something for you that just brought her comfort and love after so much pain. Because you were the only person that could make that pain go away and she eventually accepted the reason of it, or so she said.

Abby was the first to speak about it, the one to make all the first moves, impressively after all these years considering she was always quite conservative when she had to show she cared about you.

She kissed you for the first time ever, and you cupped her face with your hands to make it last longer, she looked so pretty, with her sheepish smile and a very small red tainting her cheeks, her eyes and nose very slightly scrunched. She made you cuddle with her for the first time and you covered both of you with the blanket, you moved your legs to place then between hers and you pressed yourself on her body, almost to remember her forever. You regret it now, because it worked.

You, on the other hand, tried to make the first move when people were around, at first believing she might be shy to tell people about you because she hated those clingy couples. Then, realizing she wasn’t ready to let people know. Now you know you should've left.

You always gave her time, giving her kisses whenever people wasn’t looking, taking advantage of your friendship with her being well known by everyone to hug her and stay close to her.

She would get mad- well, not really but asking you playfully to stop because she wasn’t ready. And you always understood.

Until drunk - which later she used as an excuse - she said she could never date you, not only because you were a woman and she wasn’t “into that” but also because your personalities only fit with each other because you two met so young. Your friends laughed at it, and you wanted to kill her right there.

As if the universe wasn't on your side, abby got closer to getting hat revenge she desired so much, and you knew it wouldn’t help to make of that a bigger situation in such important moment, so you let it go. You couldn't really blame her for anything after all.

She didn't mean to feel like this about you, or anyone else, and nor you or abby could call that a behavior you could blame someone for. You were her one excepcion in life, you thought instead of complaining about it you should've enjoyed it all.

Abby apologized later that week, you didn't know it was because she went to see Owen. You wish you never knew, you wish you never asked. Back then you thought the old abby was coming back. You were more than wrong, because she never left, she just changed, like everyone else did.

It wasn't later after that when you had to broken up with her. It happened before both of your lives changed forever.

You never wanted to, but it's impossible to not regret it all knowing your life- her life could've turned different.

"You're overreacting" her arms were crossed. She straightened herself, mocking you. You couldn't scream because there were people near you, Abby's friends, all sleeping.

She had brought everyone to a random place to get her revenge, and as much as you loved her, the whole scenario was ridiculous. You didn't understand why she needed everyone on her side, until you saw it.

And maybe you were overreacting, but it wasn't the first time Abby rathered to speak with Owen instead of you. And it made your blood boil because why would she even think about him as someone she can speak to when he wasn't on her side as much as you? When he's dating someone else and she's dating you?.

"You haven't spoke to me since we came here. I just wanna know, why him?" Abby chuckled, rolling her eyes. Just that and you felt like bursting into tears. Fucking ridiculous.

"Abby, answer-" she cut you off, running a hand over her hair, down her braid. The way she took a deep breath, how she didn't take you serious, It had become a normal thing for you and only that made you realize how stupid it was. How stupid you were for letting her treat you like that.

"You can't respect that I want to keep us private. You think I'm fucking cheating on you. I don't understand what the fuck you want from me" you impulsively stepped back. Thinking about an answer that didn't make you sound like the mean one, even though you knew she was the one making all the mistakes.

"You don't want us private Abigail, and you fucking know it" you still remember the knot on your throat when you spoke, there has never been such painful feeling. "We've been dating for more than a fucking year and you haven't said you love me, not even once. I'm the one overreacting, the one being clingy, the one being desperate for love. But you know why? Because my girlfriend is terrified of loving me"

She didn't say anything. But god how she remembers it all.

"You know how insane you're making me? I saw you kissing Owen many times while dating, and you want to keep me 'private' even after a whole fucking year?" Her lips shut together, forming a pout. You knew she wanted to cry, which only made you feel worst because you were the one supposed to cry. Not her.

"You can kiss every single man on earth, but know, it will always stay the same. Good luck with all your shit, Abigail"

The scenery your eyes saw some hours later were just the confirmation you needed to leave. She was angry, and in pain. Probably you were guilty of the morbid way that men got killed. Or, maybe not, but you couldn't change the sensation of guilt building in your stomach every time abby hit his skin.

Back at the base it all got awkward between everyone. The relationship between Owen and Mel got awkward, and that was related to you and Abby.

It was a sort of love affair situation that no one ever spoke about but everyone knew it had happened. Everyone felt pity for you and Mel, which made the hate towards her grow stupidly heavily.

You despised her and that man.

So, for you and your needs, you decided to take something from her one last time.

Having her underneath you, pleading for your touch, crying your name, confessing how she regretted it all and how Owen was driving her insane. One last time, you can't make you forget it.

Neither does Abby, regretting letting you go, more than anything she’s ever regretted.

Not only has she wasted her time with Owen but she had made him waste his time with her. She could’ve had you, she could’ve been awake on your side tonight. Knowing she took all those chances away from herself, it drives her insane every day.

But oh you told her so, and you gave her thousands of chances to not fuck it all.

Those words you said to her, they’ve been stuck forever on her brain.

#abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson angst #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x masc!reader #abby x y/n #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x black reader #abby anderson x chubby reader #abby angst

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abigails-gf · 3 days

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can you write reader and Abby watching a sad movie and Abby sees reader crying so she comforts her 💕

abby anderson x f!reader.

a/n: hiii nonnie !! thank you sm for sending this request. :3 i cry so much while watching movies. omg. the last movie i cried for was puss in boots 2 :(( saw it for the first time two weeks ago and it was so so good. cried when mama bear said that they'll love goldie even if she decides to give up on them for her wish n stuff. aah. anyway !! i hope you enjoy this. it's a bit short, but i think it's cute !! <3 also, 'm working on a longer request which (hopefully) will be up next week. and i'm sooo excited !! okiii byeee !! mwaaahh 💌💕

how you can help palestine, israeli themes in tlou, more ressources !

you and abby had decided to have a movie night once a week. you'd spend the night at her apartment, bringing some snacks with you. and she'd take care of dinner.

tonight, you two were watching a movie she had picked. you ate while watching the first part of the movie, and then cuddled on her couch.

"oh, no! what is she doing? she can't just leave them like that!" you said, talking about the main character deciding to leave her family. abby stayed quiet and squeezed your hand in hers.

as the movie progressed, nearing the end, she looked at you. you were focused on the tv, the glow of it lighting your face – she noticed tears falling down your cheeks. she chuckled. "baby..." she cupped your cheek as you finally turned to her, sniffling. "oh, honey..." she smiled softly at you as you shook your head. "'m sorry, it's so stupid. it's just a stupid movie..." she laughed a little and hugged you. "oh, baby..." she kissed your cheeks. "it's okay. don't apologise for that." she hugged you until the movie was over.

"it's already over?!" you yelled at the tv. abby giggled and caressed your arm. "calm down, baby. it's just a movie." you hugged your girlfriend as she kept on rubbing your arm. "this movie was shit."

abby laughed and kissed your head. "yeah. the movie was so shitty, you cried." she teased. you looked up at her, slapping her chest. "shh. don't make fun of me." she couldn't help but chuckle. "not making fun of you, baby. would never do that."

you rolled your eyes and kissed her. she kissed you back softly, pressing you against her. "sweet girl..." she whispered into the kiss. you smiled and kissed her some more, as her hands travelled to your lower back. "seriously, abby, don't you ever pick a movie like this." she looked at you and caressed your cheek. "next time you'll pick the movie." she said, giving you a peck. "don't like seeing my sweet girl cry." she kissed you once more.

you two laid down on the couch, cuddling. your head on abby's chest as she rubbed your back. "baby? you alright?" she spoke softly, starting to play with your hair. you didn't answer, soft breaths coming out of your mouth.

you had fallen asleep. abby smiled at the sight. she continued to play with your hair for a few minutes before gently getting up, putting your head down on a pillow. she leaned down and kissed your head. "goodnight, sweetheart." she whispered before picking up the dishes.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou2 #tlou x reader #abby anderson blurb #abby the last of us #abby anderson fluff

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nothing-tolose · 2 days

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Wood Stairs on The Coast.

warning: age gap (4 years). please lmk if there's anything i missed!

a/n: i wrote some words repeatedly im sorry, imsorry imsorry

daily click

You really hate yourself for sitting in the same spot again and again. Resting your butt on the wooden surface of the stairs, your eyes gazing at the ocean merely 270 meters from your house. You letting out a sigh as you bury your face in your arms, cursing yourself because you're still waiting for Abby to return, even though there's almost no chance and reason for her to come back to the little town where you live. It has been five years two months and two weeks since she left you with her promise to wait for her come back in 4 years, well, it was too far late. Now that you're a grown up, no longer the girl who once struggled with her homework, you work at a little bakery shop in your small town instead of pursuing university like most of your friends did. Being 21 years old, you feel old enough to date Abby that you've been waiting for almost half a decade since too young to have her back then. But does it truly matter when the promise remains unfulfilled? All hopes, birthday wishes, and prays you always mean it for Abby, hoping she'd be here soon with her feet touching the ground. You knew where her hometown was at, only if you get enough money, you swear you could go there and meet her. You don't even know if her promise is still worth for believing in or it's just a bunch of lies that you still hold tightly. You rejected the girls who confessed their feelings to you because you were waiting for Abby. Now they got their own girlfriends, you still here, sitting on your house's stairs, alone, not with Abigail Anderson, not with her being your girlfriend. You leaned on the railing, thinking about how much easier life was when she was with you, even if it was only for four months. The past five years hadn't been as amazing as the year before. You've heard great things here, but not as great as they'd be if she came back. Your house remained the same as it was a year ago; there was no chance of her getting lost. Night had fallen, and you sat by the window, facing the coast you've been staring while sit on the porch stairs this morning. The dim light in your room from a white bedside lamp—the gift from Abby for your 16th birthday—that you never turned off, day or night. The lamp served as a symbol of how long you'd been waiting; once it went off, it would be over. Your head leaned against the wall, sighing, "Should I stop, Abby?"

You promised yourself you wouldn't sit again on the wooden stair corner again, yet there you are, hand cupping your cheeks, the gentle breeze playing with your hair, forcing you to tuck hair strands behind your ear every single seconds. You have some rocks on the ground from the beach you visited earlier this morning. You've sorted them by size and now you're playing with them randomly, just to stave off your boredom, as if you were know that Abby won't come back, leaving you feeling hopeless now. You huffed, again. You tried not to care anymore about the promise. But no, you knew yourself better than anyone; deep down in your heart, you still cared enough for her. You were too focused on your mind, hands still playing with the rocks and sand, not hearing the footsteps approaching you. The footsteps stopped a few meters away from you. You raised your head, immediately stood up after you saw the owner of the footsteps. You couldn't say anything as if words had become trapped in your throat.

"You've grown up a lot,"

Without a second thought, you ran to her and hugged her tightly. Even though the promise was fulfilled much later than expected, it didn't matter anymore. She's here, Abby is here, Abigail Anderson is here. No words comes from your mouth, all that mattered was the hug, and she returned it just as fiercely. Her hands rubbing your head while saying "I'm sorry, you've waited me for too long." She was saying sorry to you, for countless times. You shakes your head, crying in between the hug. Abby cupped your cheeks, smiling, her gaze locked on your lips, "Can.. can I?" You didn't wait for her to finish speaking as you simply nodded, you want her to kiss you, you really want it. Your lips met hers, ending five years of loneliness without her. At last, she could kiss you without concern for age differences, and at last, you could having her being your girlfriend. "God, where was the girl who always asks me to help her homework?" You chuckled, along with her wiped your tears away on your cheeks after the kisses, "She's a grown up now, Abby."

"Please, please don't leave me again,"

"I won't, baby. I won't,"

Once again big thanks to Taylor Swift for giving me the idea.

#⋆˚࿔ nothingtolose 𝜗𝜚˚⋆#abby anderson angst #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson x reader #tlou abby #tlou2 #the last of us 2 #abby anderson fluff #abby x fem!reader #Spotify

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elliesonlyhoe · 3 days

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Yk what would be silly as fuck? If everyone just started dropping ellie/abby comfort fics in my comments rn. Like oh my god what the fuckkk? (PLWASE PELASE LLESSE OLESDE PLEASE OLEASE PLEADEM PLESSE PLEASSEEEEEEE PUH-LEASEEEEE.)

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dollyhao · 5 hours

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once more to see you; a. anderson

(short little angsty fic based off mitski's song. ive never done something like this so let me know if its good because i have other ideas.)

‘in the rearview mirror i saw the setting sun on your neck and felt the taste of you bubble up inside me’

abby watched you sleep as the sunrised, casting a orange glow to your face. she traces a finger down your arm as your face twitches from the slight touches. she can feel the way you kissed her skin last night like a lingering burn and how she returned them.

‘but with everyone watching us, our every move, we do have reputations’

‘we keep it secret, won’t them have it.’

abby knows you deserve more than sneaky meet ups in her room and on patrols but theres nothing she can do. if she wants to keep the respect and fear of wlf soldiers she can’t have them knowing about you two. abby refuses to let them turn what you two have together into something else. she's doing this for you; for both of you.

‘so come inside and be with’

‘alone with me, alone with me, alone’

you never complain as abby avoids eye contact with you or talks to you formally, like your just another soldier who has to listen to her commands. you let abby initiate intimacy so you don’t have another mishap like the last time.

so you let abby leave you little notes to meet her in empty rooms that aren’t used anymore. and accept as she pulls you into passionate kisses and tight hugs, her silent way of telling you she loves you.

‘if you would let me give you pinky promise kisses , then i wouldn’t have to scream your name atop of every roof in the city of my heart’

you watch abby as she gets close with owen, playfully hitting him, making jokes and laughing. you don’t remember the last time abby laughed with you. you watch and wonder if being in a relationship isn’t the problem for abby but that maybe it’s being in a relationship with you thats the problem.

your heart screams for her when she meets your gaze with a look of (fake?) disinterest. you want her to tell you she loves you like she use to before she went up in rank. you want to yell at her that this can’t be the way you are loved in such an already fucked up world; but you can’t bring yourself to stop the moments you do get together.

‘if i could see you, once more to see you”

abby hasn’t seen you give her a genuine smile in days. when your alone, you give her these half smiles and she watches you lip wobble the slightest bit as she walks into your room at midnight. but your still here, wrapping her into your arms as she pulls you down to lay on the bed with her.

so she takes in everything your giving her right now because your still here, even if your eyes are far away.

#abby kinda an asshole #wlw #lesbian #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #i 🫶🏾 abby anderson #abby anderson angst #angst #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson tlou #abby tlou #abby the last of us

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deepouterspacecandy · 23 hours

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Spared

I intended to write a short drabble about Abby being immune to Cordyceps, but alas, it morphed into approximately 5k words right before my very eyes. How does this happen? Anyway. I appreciate your presence, taking the time to read these fragments of my mind. Thank you for being here. I hope you enjoy. This is a darker, more angsty, gore-filled journey and, as always, it’s intended for 18+ audiences only. Violence and sexual themes.

A man on a mission, Dr. Jerry Anderson devoted himself to eradicating the plague that wreaked havoc on the world.

Developing a vaccine against Cordyceps consumed his life.

In their quest for answers, people would come from all corners of the globe, hoping to be included in his trial. Despite undergoing countless procedures and surgeries in a desperate pursuit of a cure, most patients tragically succumbed to the treatments themselves or to their initial infections. As the years passed and resources became scarce, his experiments progressively lost their footing.

Mere weeks before his untimely demise, Dr. Anderson conducted his last trial on a patient. The experiment unfolded in a way he never anticipated.

After receiving the injection, the patient, without previous exposure to the virus, experienced a perplexing mutation, developing far more than immunity to the perils of infection.

She possessed the ability to communicate with it and maneuver through it, like a ghost.

----------------------------------------

“You wanted to see me.”

Isaac extends his arm, signaling for you to have a seat at his desk. He swirls a decanter filled with a rich, dark liquid before pouring it between two sturdy glasses.

With a jarring crack against the maple surface, Isaac sets one glass before you.

“I don’t drink,” you say.

As you bring the potion to your nose, the pungent smell of the liquor assaults your senses, and you search for a compliment to give out of courtesy. Hoping to dissuade him from making further gestures of rapport, you decide against it.

“Is this an issue I need to be aware of?” he asks. “I have no patience for drunks.”

Leaning back in his chair, he peers at you intently over his glass.

“No, sir.”

Given the stories you’ve heard about his inebriated escapades, it’s quite ironic to hear such a statement from him.

You feel the uncomfortable burn of his glare, a demand for you to elaborate. Clearing your throat, you offer him a hesitant explanation.

“I prefer to keep my head straight. It’s important in my line of work,” you say.

Unimpressed by your reasoning, he leans forward and flicks your glass, producing a sharp sound that resonates through your chest.

“Do you smell smoke?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “But I’d really rather not—”

Silencing you with a raised hand, he swiftly cuts you off.

“Good. I don’t recall setting a fire. Have a drink,” he orders. “We have matters of discretion to discuss.”

As usual, his matters of discretion connect you to his hidden mercenary, a soldier you have treated multiple times throughout the years unbeknownst to your comrades. She’s Isaac’s most lethal weapon, a secret you wish you didn’t have to protect. What he is doing with her feels cruel, using her impenetrable body for brutal warfare and then leaving her isolated with her injuries, all while she waits for the next assignment.

It takes weeks for the roiling feeling in your gut to subside after meeting with her.

“When do you plan on ending this?” you ask.

Maybe the booze is taking effect, emboldening you beyond your usual self. It’s impossible to bite your tongue, the torment of watching this unfold gnawing at you.

“Excuse me?” he drawls.

“Sir, she’s alone out there. It’s not right,” you say, reluctantly downing the last remnants of the glass before pushing it across the desk. “There are factors you need to consider. Mental decline, her physical limitations. If you’d consider bringing her in, she’d make a promising squad leader.”

Trying to reason with him about her basic human needs will be futile, so as with every other matter, it’s more effective to approach the situation from a tactical standpoint. His perception of human beings as living entities is questionable as is.

“Do not underestimate her faculties,” Isaac says. “She’s built differently. This is the purpose she serves to keep her people safe, and she does it willingly.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but sir, if you’d just give me a minute.”

“Do I need to find someone else to handle this case?” he asks.

It’s a loaded question, a double barrel to your temple. The act of assigning someone else to handle her case doesn’t entitle you to be included in the mission rotation again.

Only you hold the key to the secret of her existence, and it will die with you.

“When do I ship out?” you ask.

“Tonight,” he mutters.

He turns his back to you, and you can hear the faint sound of liquid pouring into his glass. When he dismisses you by consuming it alone, you see yourself out.

----------------------------------------

The journey to the prison is a tumultuous one.

The absence of infected is a relief, but the spray-painted rattle snakes garnishing the buildings and the maze of explosives on the roadways dangle ominously in your face. With Bear, your devoted canine companion, you make it as far as the gas station before a spike strip shreds the front tires of your Humvee. The sunken road, slicked by rain and oil, causes the vehicle to lose traction completely, sliding sideways into the long-abandoned propane tank sitting at the edge of the freeway.

Warmth spills through your eyebrows, prompting you to reach up and touch your forehead to locate the source. Your fingers, stained bright red, begin to tremble as you observe Bear—his ears flattened with every dark hair along his spine raised in alarm.

It’s a matter of seconds before a pair of violent hands tear you from the vehicle and toss you into the dirt, jarring rock granules forcing your eyes shut. You blink them away until all you see is a mangled police visor staring down at you, its surface speckled with dried blood, a menacing baton swinging an inch from your nose. Though the mask muffles the voice behind it, there’s a barbed, frigid edge to his tone.

Bear lunges out of the cab, seizing the enemy by his throat and forcing him to the ground. It grants you enough time to scramble to your feet, only to be met with the disturbing view of an infected hoard stumbling toward you from the hillside, chains dragging behind some of them.

Your vision becomes increasingly blurry as nausea ferments in your stomach, twisting you inside out. You pilfer the rifle off your attacker, as a group of his mates emerge from the shadows. You lean against the Humvee, examining the firearm before chambering the only bullet attached to the limp body at your boots.

“Fuck ‘em up,” you command.

Bear is a missile, darting through the rubble, his target set everywhere at once. Next to Isaac’s best kept secret, your dog is a diabolical killing machine.

“Shoot that fucking dog!”

Your eyes narrow in on the enemy poised to strike Bear, and you steady your aim. The roar of your scream lingers in your ears as you fire the only round you’ve got. An aggressive swarm of infected are moving toward the chaos in a cluster of rot and tangled limbs and you’re frozen. A horrific slaughter, surpassing any level of violence you’ve encountered, breaks out in a flash.

The infected shred your attackers apart, ribbons of flesh and shattered bone coating the pavement. The moment you call out for Bear, the sudden noise turns a dozen vacant, pustule eyes on you.

With no weapons at your disposal, you frantically scramble onto the roof of the Humvee, scanning the surroundings for an escape route. A sea of infected pool together like a rancid colony of ants.

Some say that the pain from a Clicker attack is unlike anything else. Perhaps it’s their blind, frenzied hunger that makes them so vicious.

You’re on the brink of discovering it firsthand when the decaying corpse, with its outstretched arms and gnarled fingers, halts mid-motion.

The infected stop in their tracks one by one, haunted marionettes with abruptly yanked strings. Save for the sound of your own blood pumping in your ears, the silence becomes deafening. Their bodies writhe in an eerie synchronicity as you try not to breathe.

In rare form, you squeeze your eyes shut to escape the fear. The sudden weight of a hand on your shoulder causes you to swing violently in its direction, your fist caught by a solid, calloused palm. Your piercing scream permeates the silence before you instinctively clamp your hands over your mouth.

Despite your shock, the lifeless figures remain unaffected, and you squint to make sense of it.

“I don’t understand,” you say.

Through tangled locks of greasy hair, celestial blue eyes stare expectantly. Her intense gaze rakes over you, a familiar pearl-white streak marring only one iris. It’s been a while, but her angular face is a sight you remember well.

“They can’t hurt me?” you ask.

“They can,” she explains, reaching up to examine the gash on your forehead. “But they won’t.”

“Bear,” you blurt.

Using her thumb and forefinger, she turns your chin until you spot your dog at the edge of the hoard. You can feel his confusion as his tail wags anxiously, ready for your next command. The simple act of turning your head sends a tsunami of vertigo crashing over you.

Out of nowhere, your mind becomes a jumbled mess, making it a challenge to string coherent thoughts together. She senses your trepidation, and her hands immediately find your hips, offering stability as you falter.

“I’m dizzy. I need to get down,” you stammer.

Her grip tightens and you try to focus on the sharp sting of her fingertips digging into your skin. The world tilts, the infected shuffling and groaning as they slowly snap out of their trance.

“Breathe,” she says. “Stay with me.”

Darkness cloaks your vision before you can summon the energy to respond.

----------------------------------------

As you blink awake, the biting cold hits you first. The source of the unwelcome breeze draws your attention, as the chilly gusts sneak into the room through a slit in the concrete. It’s meant to be a window, but it falls miserably short of the mark.

You’ve spent countless nights inside this prison, mending the wounds of Isaac’s soldier in the dim, flickering light. It’s the first time you’ve landed yourself in her bed.

The blanket, enveloping you like a cocoon, is unpleasantly musty, and you peel it away. Rising from the rigid steel slab, the room spins, deterring you from getting on your feet. Your body feels heavy and sore, a relentless ache pulsating behind your eyes. You give it another shot and stumble to your feet, using the walls as a crutch until you regain your balance.

Bear sleeps peacefully at the foot of the bed, his gentle snores filling the room. It’s intriguing how he finds more peace in the prison than in his own home, but he certainly deserves some rest.

The clank of iron plates echoes down the corridor, and you follow the sound. Your bare feet recoil against the chilly ground, and you’re left pondering when exactly you misplaced your boots. The hiss of heavy breathing and the occasional strenuous grunt accompanies your journey from one cell to the next, guiding you down the hallway toward the sound.

You peek around the corner and wild blonde hair appears in your line of sight.

Chances are, she already senses your presence, but you give a gentle warning that you’re approaching just in case.

“How long have I been out?” you ask.

Performing dips on a rusted bench, she maintains her focus, her back turned to you. Muscles flex and bulge with each repetition and you notice she’s adopted fresh scars across her ravaged back since your previous visit. Without a word, she powers through her reps and smoothly transitions into her next set.

It took several visits before she would give you anything more than a frosty response. Despite the feeling of regression, it’s possible she just needs time to adjust.

“I noticed you grabbed my bag,” you say, idly fidgeting with your hands as you linger in the doorway. “Thank you for that—for all of it, really. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”

Her body stiffens into a plank, losing momentum in her push-ups. Beads of sweat roll down her face and drip to the ground, her solid body trembling. She takes a deep breath before releasing it in a huff, continuing her routine without pause.

“Have you eaten? I packed some spices I think you’ll like.”

With a frustrated growl, she shakes her head, trying to dispel the irritation. Your instincts tell you to leave her alone to finish her workout, but for some odd reason, you find yourself unable to hold back the torrent of words.

“I thought it’d be cool to start a garden here. Herbs are nice to cook with, you know? Some for healing, too. There’s a decent spot in the yard for it.”

“What’s next—rose bushes?” she mutters.

“Roses can be great for tinctures,” you explain. “It’s a learning curve, but you get great sunlight for them.”

She props herself up on her elbows mid-push-up and lets out a choppy breath. When she raises her eyes to meet yours, anger fills them to the brim, and the hostility is scalding.

“I want Isaac to stop sending you.”

The pain of the unexpected dagger is far more intense than you could have ever imagined. You often wish that Isaac hadn’t implicated you in his secret, but you’ve grown to care for this wounded soul.

“You might as well take me out back, then,” you chuckle humourlessly. “Because that’s a death sentence.”

“Give me five minutes,” she sneers. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Look, I didn’t ask for this,” you say, a kernel of truth wrapped up in a rather emotional reaction to her painful barb. “I’m his soldier, too.”

Springing up from the ground, she snatches her shirt off a nearby chair and pushes past you. Before she slips the tattered garment over her head, you catch a glimpse of a deep, jagged laceration at the base of her neck.

While you make a mental note of it, you ultimately decide against bringing it up.

Rather than hounding her when she clearly wants to be alone, you decide to hunt for that old claw bathtub, desperate for a soak and maybe a good cry.

----------------------------------------

This tomb scatters beauty, but you easily find its seeds.

The copper tub catches the flickering candlelight, and the gleam is otherworldly against the lonely shadows. The moment you step into the hot water, you can feel your skin buzzing with gentle licks of heat and your tired muscles begin to surrender to the relaxation it brings.

You can recall the day she dragged this old bathtub into the prison, the legs of it squeaking across the concrete floor as if the claws belonged to a corporeal animal. Showers alone proved ineffective in hastening her healing process and cleansing her wounds and, surprisingly, despite her initial uncertainty, she took your advice.

The candles differ from the ones you previously left behind, so you assume she still makes use of the hollow luxury when the mood strikes.

Submerging your head, you study the muffled sounds brought about by the density of the water. Everything is disparate beneath the surface, the low-pitched hoots of an owl muted and distant.

“I made food.”

“Jesus Christ!” you choke, body thrashing and creating a chaotic spray of water in every direction.

Your actions soak the woman standing beside the tub and, when she averts her gaze, droplets of water slip from her dirt-slicked lashes.

“Knocking helps!” you say, bracing your arms on the copper ridges.

“Count the doors in here—I’ll wait!”

Her sarcastic wit catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks sting as confused gaiety tugs at them.

“What’s that face for?” she snaps.

It’s difficult to discern whether she’s asking a genuine question or if she’s in a defensive stance, so you wager it’s a blend of both.

“You’re funny,” you say. “When you’re not being a jerk.”

This time, when her eyes meet yours, the fury dissipates. There’s something soft and temperate where you’ve only ever witnessed the bane of unforgiving steel.

The pads of her fingers are a deep pink hue, and it dawns on you that the porcelain bowl must be extremely hot. You gesture to the side table disguised as a wooden stump and she sets the dish down.

“Can I have a look at that?” you ask, reaching for her hands.

The tub and clever positioning shroud your naked body, but the rest is all about her and her sudden ardent manners. With her face turned away, she offers you her palms first.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” she says.

While inspecting the burn and its surrounding wounds, you notice her shoulders dropping.

“You can sit, if you want,” you say.

Upon surveying the area, you’re aware that the number of chairs matches the number of doors, prompting an apologetic chuckle. A tiny smile teases her mouth as she crouches at your side instead.

“You need to run this under cold water, okay? And I should dress these cuts, so they don’t get infected.”

“What about you?” she asks. “I tried to clean it out, but it’s ugly.”

She moves to touch the gash on your forehead, and her quick movements startle you. When you flinch, her hand lingers in the air until she decides to rework her pace, taking a more languid approach.

“It’s been forever since someone called me ugly,” you jest.

“Missed opportunity,” she mumbles, biting her bottom lip to keep her grin at bay.

“You haven’t polished off that honey I brought yet, right?”

Her expression resembles a guilt-ridden thief caught in the act, and you struggle to suppress a burst of laughter.

“I should’ve known better. Maybe you need a hive instead of a garden,” you say.

She snorts at your suggestion before grabbing the cloth hanging on the tub and dunking it into the water. Instinctively, her weathered hands shape the fabric to dab gently at your injury. The surface is bruise-tender and the pain throbs outward in torturous sparks. She cups your jaw with her other hand to keep you from squirming.

“What if I’m allergic to bee stings? Because that’s a death sentence,” she mimics.

“I’ll try not to throw you in then,” you say. “No promises.”

A wide, earnest grin spreads across her tough features, and you forget how to breathe for a spell. She’s filthy and in desperate need of a hairbrush, but she’s still prettier than anyone you’ve met.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

Isaac never refers to her as anything other than his mercenary, and every time you had considered asking her in the past, your better judgement advised against it. Her preference for anonymity is clear, but you have so many unanswered questions.

In a smooth motion, she glides the cool cloth across the bridge of your nose.

“Do you really want to know?” she asks.

Seeking a moment of connection, you grasp her wrist, pausing her ministrations. Her gaze meets yours with a sense of urgency and she doesn’t break eye contact.

Water trickles from your hands, twirling along her wrist and cascading down her forearm. She fights to keep her eyes open, a raspy hum building at the back of her throat until goosebumps skate across your skin.

“I really want to know,” you say.

Her nod is slow and deliberate, contemplating the price she will have to pay for her decision.

“Once you see me,” she warns, and it’s uncertain whether she’s cautioning you or herself. “There’s no going back.”

“I can live with that,” you whisper.

Just when it looks like she’s ready to share, her body tenses up and you can almost touch the impenetrable barrier rising between you.

“Your stew is getting cold,” she says. “I’ll grab you a towel.”

----------------------------------------

Away from the stadium lights, midnight is a mesmerizing weave of glistening diamonds spilled across an indigo sky. The sight of the Milky Way reminds you of her. That blemish etched along her iris—a celestial river carving through blue canvas.

You curl up on a bedroll in the tall grass and listen to the melodious ensemble of crickets and frogs, yearning for extra time in the countryside. There’s a sense of security here, with no sign of danger for miles. The tall and formidable walls back home do little to drown out the blood-curdling cries of the infected. Their presence is always looming, close enough to unsettle you, but never close enough to harm. It’s enough to disrupt your sleep, their ruined faces bleeding into your nightmares.

The once spirited and untamed landscape of home now only grows the carefully cultivated visions that Isaac orchestrates, depriving both his plants and his people of freedom.

Prior to Isaac recruiting you for his mission, you contemplated abandoning your ties to the WLF. You didn’t want to spend another moment on this planet living in a perpetual state of war, never knowing when you’d catch a stray arrow.

The peaceful ambiance of birdsong in the early morning tempers the harsh world for you. It’s a reminder that amidst famine and devastation, there must be more.

“You’re not sleeping inside tonight?”

Bear’s collar jingles, bringing you a sense of comfort as the dog keenly explores the prison yard before heading back indoors to nap. Your pup instantly feels at ease with the mysterious woman from the middle of nowhere, and you have no trouble comprehending why.

“I am,” you say. “I just wanted to see the stars first.”

“You don’t see much of that where you’re from?” she asks.

When you pat the ground, she sits cross-legged next to you like an old friend.

“Not really. It’s too bright in the city,” you explain. “I’m going to need to stitch that up—don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

While shooting you a disapproving look, she absentmindedly traces the cut near her collarbone before leaning back on her rugged arms. She tilts her head to study the cloudless sky, and it draws your attention to the neat braid resting at the nape of her neck.

A fresh and woody scent emanates from her, with a subtle hint of pine carried to you by the wind.

“I’ve always wondered why there are no infected here,” you say. “You keep them away when I’m around, don’t you?”

You know it’s her, the one responsible for it all, but you’re still in the dark about her methods. The extent of its impact on her remains elusive to you, but you’ve witnessed her increasing exhaustion. Her strength and abilities set her apart, but they also have the power to decimate her reserves.

“They’re closer than you think,” she says.

“If I get up right now and walk out those gates, am I in danger?” you ask.

“Yes,” she says, a look of agony flashing across her features. “But not for the reasons you think. I can’t—it’s people I can’t control.”

“I wasn’t imagining things, then?”

Her teeth grind in apprehension, as she plucks blades of grass from the ground to build a small mound above the laces of her leather boots. You let the gears turn, patiently waiting for her to come to her own conclusions. The struggle lies in wanting her to confide in you, wanting to divide the burdens that shackle her.

“I’m here,” you say. “Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

“What if I can’t?”

“I’ll still listen,” you say.

When she turns her head to face you, fragile threads of trust blur her stern demeanour, a courageous step taken in silence. She lumbers from the ground until she finds her feet.

“Where are you going?” you chuckle lightly. “You need rest.”

Brushing the dirt off her pants, she makes her way to the perimeter fence, beckoning you to follow.

Left untended, the field beyond it is a forgotten acreage of towering weeds, sun-stretched wildflowers wilting beneath the somber moon. The ringing chorus of quick, guttural frog croaks fades as a Runner emerges clumsily from the treeline.

Your heart skips as her rough fingers intertwine with your own, a bolt of sweet lightning cleaving through your chest. You can feel the strength in her grip as she guides your joined hands to the chain-link. She squeezes, pressing the tips of your fingers around the galvanized wire.

You’re left bewildered, staring at her, before she gestures towards the field with a subtle tilt of her chin. The writhing, infected body creeps nearer and your heart pounds. With every graceless step the creature makes, nervous vibrations fuse between your ribs. It stumbles, festering limbs lunging forward, and it takes every ounce of self control to keep from screaming.

The warm body at your side inches closer to ease your erratic breathing. Her composure is remarkable, as if she has performed this action countless times, a mastery of the dead—a striking juxtaposition to your tight, hard swallow resonating through the lonesome field.

Behind the disease-ridden shell, the faint traces of a woman’s features start to emerge as the battered body reaches the other side of the fence. The infected woman is so close to you that you can see the intricate network of veins in her eyes, and the red, inflamed rims of her eyelids where her eyelashes once were. Every muscle in your body freezes, not daring to twitch or even let out a breath.

The septic woman pushes her forehead to the fence, head tilting at an unnatural angle, seeming to study every detail of your face. The putrid odour hits your nostrils with such force that it’s impossible not to recoil. As terror grips you, it spreads like wildfire.

“How?” you rasp, your voice so faint, it’s barely a whisper. “Why isn’t she attacking me—doesn’t she want to?”

“It’s all she wants.”

Your attention falls to the soldier whom Isaac has bound you to restore, and you notice she is rapidly losing strength, her skin growing paler as the life force ebbs away.

“Okay, that’s enough. Make it stop,” you order, panic rising as her nose trickles a thin stream of red. “You know what? Fuck it!”

Without hesitation, you reach for the knife holstered on her thigh, sliding the sharp blade through the fence, until the spindly body collapses to meld with the soil.

----------------------------------------

Your hands move with care as you suture the wound above her collarbone, the heat of her breath fanning your face. Positioned behind her is a mural she painted, featuring a serene beach and a shipwrecked boat nestled against the coastline. Decorated with kelp and dappled with rust, the sailboat’s intricate detailing is striking.

“I’ve never been to the beach,” you say.

Her blue eyes, wide with curiosity, lock onto yours, and a huff of quiet laughter escapes her parted lips.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“I’ve never been, either,” she admits.

You take a step back to observe her, noticing the lines etched on her face that tell stories of resilience. There is a captivating depth that makes you long to delve further.

“Well, you had me fooled,” you say, reaching for the scissors on the surgical tray. “You’re a talented painter—I’m sorry I hadn’t noticed sooner.”

With a dismissive shrug, she makes it seem like transforming a gloomy prison into a magnificent cathedral of art is a piece of cake. Her artwork is so impressive that you would never guess she has spent little time at the beach.

“Nah, it wasn’t here last time,” she says, adjusting her stance and widening the space between her thighs to provide you with more room to work. “I thought I’d try something new. We’ll see if it sticks.”

You lean in closer, gently tending to the cuts and scrapes that have gathered along her shoulders and neck. Her skin, adorned with freckles, is a beautiful mosaic of its own. Some strands of her braid have unraveled, perhaps because of a lack of practice, but the untidiness complements her.

“I’ve always wanted to learn to braid hair,” you say, pondering for a moment if, for her, it’s a self-taught skill or something guided by someone more experienced. Her mother maybe. “It suits you.”

Her nose wrinkles skeptically as she lifts her hand from her lap, her fingers carefully tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” she asks.

Given the antics outside, it’s a valid question. You can’t think of a scenario that sent chills down your spine quite like that one. But with her by your side, you felt an unspoken sense of protection. She nudges you with her knee, her eyes narrowing in anticipation of a response.

“I think I am,” you confess, pulling the steel cart to the other side of her brawny frame to better access the supplies you need.

“And yet, you stay,” she asserts. “I guess you don’t have much of a choice.”

“I always have a choice.”

While you meticulously inspect her newest scars, cleansing the wounds that besiege them, she takes hold of your hand, motioning for you to stop.

“Abigail,” she says, worrying her bottom lip. “My name—if you still want it.”

In an instant, your inquisitiveness peaks, keen to uncover both her origin and the path that led her to this place. All in good time, you suppose.

“Abigail,” you say, appreciating how smoothly it rolls off your tongue. “That’s a really pretty name.”

You watch in awe as a blush creeps up her cheeks, giving her a rosy glow.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It doesn’t feel like it belongs to me anymore.”

“Maybe we can change that,” you whisper.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby

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ourautumn86 · 6 months

Text

46-58

abby anderson x fem! reader

summary; abby loses her match, and when her frustration takes the best of her, she takes it out on you.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, swearing, abby getting mad, harsh treatment, rough sex, name calling (whore, slut), spanking, clit slapping, fingering (r receiving), strap-on sex (r receiving), multiple orgasms, degrading and praising, abby being really rough, breeding kink (😵‍💫), abby uses reader like a toy, hair pulling, making out, finger sucking, cum eating, squirting, use of pet names instead of y/n…

abby was losing. and abby hated losing.

24-39. a 15 point difference.

“fuck!” she hissed, sending the ball flying against a wall, making the other team wince in fear. and who wouldn’t. abby, with her 6,3ft and muscles could make anyone shake in their place.

“anderson!” her coach reprimanded her, and she huffed. you were worried about her. you could clearly see she was frustrated. but at the same time you couldn’t help the way her roughness made you feel. your thighs pressed against the other as you bit down on your lip as you felt your clit throb. why did this turn you on so badly?

you had come to her game to cheer for her, her sweater —with her name on the back— engulfing you and almost hiding your pink skirt. you loved the size difference in between the two of you.

you loved watching abby play, there was something about it, about the way she moved, that made it impossible for you to pull your eyes away from her. she was good. she was the captain for a reason and due to that she always took it personal when the match would go sideways even if it wasn’t her fault. she was too hard on herself.

“referee please!” she yelled, huffing when a player from the other team hit her and yet he didn’t count it as a foul. next time he did indeed called it was when abby did a blockage. “oh come on! are you fucking serious?! i didn’t touch her!” one of her teammates went to her, stopping her on her tracks. “fucking dick…” she muttered, shaking her head. you squirmed when she tossed the ball to the referee a little bit too harsh, winning a warning from her coach. but she was too good, he couldn’t risk to sit her on the bench.

“come on abs, don’t get frustrated, it’s alright.” one of her teammates tried to cheer her up, and then her eyes were on you. her beautiful blue eyes. you trembled.

there were 5 minutes left.

the time was flying by.

30-43

the crowd was roaring, cheering for their respective teams.

“come on abby…” you muttered. she was chugging water, her whole body and strong arms covered in shiny sweat.

she did her best to diminish the point difference, running from side to side of the court and scoring as many points as she could.

but sadly enough, despite her best efforts, they ended up losing.

46-58

the glowing red numbers were like a mock to her face.

she cursed, sitting on the bench with her head in between her hands. her coach made his best to not let it consume her, as so did her teammates, but she was blaming herself. and she was frustrated… furious.

you watched as both teams shook their hands congratulating each other for the game and took their things to leave.

you left the stairs and made your way down to meet with your girlfriend, who didn’t even look at you and simply started walking towards her car, having you following her behind like a lost sad puppy.

she didn’t say a word though the whole way back to your shared apartment, the silence and heavy atmosphere inside the car making your skin crawl.

you watch her muscled back as you made your way inside the apartment, abby harshly leaving her bag on the floor. she could feel her blood boiling, her hands shaking in adrenaline and rage.

“abby.” you called out for her, touching her shoulder, gently. but there was nothing gentle in the way she was now pressing you against the wall, both of your hands on the side of your face.

“shut the fuck up.” she growled, taking your lips in a rough kiss that had your lungs begging for air. “i’m so fucking mad.” she groaned, sucking on your neck, and you whined, feeling one of her legs push up in between your own and against your throbbing cunt. “you know what i need right now, isn’t that right, doll?” you nodded. “yeah, you do. so you’re gonna stay quiet and let me fuck you, hm?” you moaned, nodding once again, feeling heat pooling in between your legs, her voice was low, dangerous. and you couldn’t help but want to satisfy her, to make her feel better. “atta girl.” she went back to kissing you, one hand taking a hold on your wrists to push your hands over your head as the other came down to the seam of her hoodie, pushing it up just to discover that you were wearing nothing underneath. “well would you look at that… you were ready for it, huh?” she chuckled, her free hand pinching one of your nipples, making your back arch and a whimper fall from your lips. “wether i lose or win i was gonna fuck you anyways, so why bother… isn’t that right, doll?” she teased you, grinding her thigh against your clothed and aching cunt. “but we both know that you like it best when i lose, right? you get off by me being mean to you.” her lips latched to your neck, slowly making their way up to your ear. “my girl just needs me to be rough with her, huh?” you shivered, nodding, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. she was right. “fucking answer to me when i speak.” the hand that had been rolling your nipple harshly spanked one of your thighs, making your skin burn and you let out a needy moan.

“yes, abby.” she hummed.

“good girl. now, why don’t you go wait for me in our bed, hm? and take off your clothes, want to see you spread and open for me once i get there.” you nodded, and she let go of your wrists.

you followed her command, getting to your bedroom as you heard the faucet of the bathroom opening. she had probably gone to clean her hands. you quickly got rid of your clothes, letting them aside on the floor before getting in bed, your back against the duvet and your legs spread for her to see your now drooling cunt. you wanted nothing more than to reach out in between them and touch yourself, get some relief. but you knew better. you knew abby wouldn’t like that, so you sat there, waiting for her to come to you.

she didn’t take long.

when she came back she was on her underwear and sports bra. muscles on display and pumped due to the recent exercise. you were drooling.

“look at you.” she shook her head, her eyes on your pretty cunt. her pretty cunt. “open up for me, darling, let me see you.” she said, and you blushed, letting one of your hands trail down in between your thighs, your index and middle finger making contact with your folds to spread them and show your twitching entrance to her. she groaned. “so fucking pretty.” you moaned. “and so wet… you’re soaked, princess. all that ‘cause i’m mean to you? you’re a slut.” your thighs shook at the name, your clit throbbed, awaiting to be touched. “you like it when i take it out on you, baby? when i use you like a little toy?” you nodded, making her need to fuck you bigger. “of course you do. ‘cause that’s all you are, my pretty little toy.” you watched as she made her way to the bed, abs flexing, strong thighs spreading. your back arched when her fingers met your exposed and open pussy, a whimper ripping your throat when she slapped your clit. “you just can’t wait to be fucked, can you?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she suddenly and harshly pushed two of her thick fingers inside your tight walls. “sucking my fingers right in like the whore you are.”

“abby…!” you whined as she started to fuck them in and out of you. they slid so easily. you were so wet for her. it was embarrassing, how much control she had over you.

“haven’t even started fucking you yet and look at how drenched you are.“ you moaned, your hips rutting against her touch, making her chuckle. “so desperate…”

“please, abby, please… fuck me, please.” you begged.

“want me to fuck you baby? want me to use you?” she inquired and you nodded.

“yes, please. use me. use me.” you pleaded, eyes tearing up. you needed her so badly it hurt. you were so turned on…

she took her fingers out of you, looking at how they shone with your slick before pushing them inside her mouth to taste you. you whimpered as she hummed.

“get on your knees baby, ass up.” she ordered, and you followed, laying with your tummy down against the sheets and your knees holding your ass up, your back arched as your chest rested against the mattress. you knew this was how she liked to have you, with both your holes showing. she relished on your muffled moans and cries against the pillows, how you’d hold the sheets in between your hands for support as she pounded her cock inside of you.

she put on the strap, buckling it around her hips as she stared at your drooling pussy, slick now pooling on your thighs in droplets. she groaned. she couldn’t wait to have you creaming her dick. it was big. around the 7 inches, and purple, with ridges and a great girth.

you gasped when you felt the tip tease your folds, bumping against your clit. abby was using your arousal to lube herself up. you could feel your cheeks burning at the sound of your slick folds engulfing her tip, the neediness of your twitching hole to be filled and fucked.

one of her hands took your hip as the other guided the strap to your hole, pushing in in a harsh and quick sudden thrust that had you gripping the sheets and screaming. “thaat’s it. fucking take it.” your breath got punched out of your lungs as she started to fuck you open on it, hitting your g spot with every snap of her hips. “be a good doll and sit pretty for me while i fuck you, hm?” you moaned, feeling your walls squeezing the silicone and sucking it in. her pace quickened, harshly fucking into you as she grunted. your moans were getting cut by each thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you tried to stay up on your legs, although you couldn’t. that’s why abby was there for, grabbing your hips with such strength that will leave the marks of her fingertips on your skin. “fucking shit. pussy so good taking my cock. look at it. fucked open and drooling for more.” you whimpered, your tits bouncing and hardened nipples brushing against the sheets, making your mind feel fuzzy.

you were a babbling and moaning mess, begging for more, pleading for her to take her anger out on you, to fuck you harder, faster.

she groaned, pistoning into you until you were nothing but a body for her to let her frustrations out on. shit. she was fucking your brains out. one of her hands gripped your hair, pushing you against the sheets to keep you in place, abusing you g spot over and over and over again.

“abby!” you screamed, your walls squeezing shut around her cock, your orgasm building up on your lower stomach.

“that’s it baby. louder. let me hear you. who’s cock are you taking, hm? whose pussy is this, huh?” she inquired, and when she didn’t hear and answer she spanked you, making your body jolt.

“yours!!”

“fucking right.” she growled.

“gonna cum!” you cried out.

“yeah? you gonna cum, doll? gonna cream my cock? gonna drip for me?” you nodded. “of course you are. now be good for me and let me have it. let me see you fall apart.”

she didn’t have to ask twice, your orgasm hitting and drowning you like a tidal wave, making your world turn white and your ears ring as your moans became louder and louder.

abby fucked you through it, never backing down and keeping the same intensity, what made your orgasm last what seemed like ages. and when you thought it would die down it just kept growing.

“abby, i’m gonna cum again, i’m gonna, oh fuck!” you cried out, feeling it turn into something else. your thighs soaking wet in your squirt as your back arched, her cock sliding in and out of your pussy so easily…

abby groaned, the back of the strap rubbing her clit in just the perfect way.

“there it is…” she muttered, relishing on the sight, on the sound of the splashing of your juices against her hips and strap. “pussy feeling so good is crying for me.” you took it. took her anger, her frustration… but it was…

“too much! too much!” you begged, one of your hands scratching at her abs as she kept fucking you, but it didn’t stop her, the hand that pressed your head down taking both of your wrists behind your back to pull from you and on her dick. you screamed, feeling her on your cervix, and squirting non stop.

“fucking take it. stop being a fucking baby and take it.” she grunted, feeling her orgasm approaching. “gonna cum so hard. gonna fill you up, princess, fuck a baby into this pretty pussy of yours. gonna leave you dripping for a week, doll.” you whimpered.

“yes, please, cum inside, cum inside! want your cum please, abby please…” you pleaded. and that’s what made it for her.

“look at you. completely cock drunk... yeah? you want it? then take it. fuck. fucking take it.” she groaned, harshly and quickly fucking into you as she hit her peak, watching you squirt like crazy as she came and soaked her boxers. she fucked the two of you through it. by the time she was finished the sheets completely soaked.

she let go of you, your cunt trying to still suck her in, making you whine as she pulled out of you and let go of your wrists, making you fall against the sheets. you were breathless, boneless. she had fucked you completely dumb. your whole body was shaking in exhaustion and the high of your orgasms.

your cum was coating the base of her strap in a white ring, and your cunt shone under the lights of your bedroom, puffy folds reddish and swollen due to her abuse.

it was needless to say that abby wasn’t angry anymore.

a/n; reader is me while my crush got frustrated playing today 😫🤭

#abby anderson x female reader #abby smut #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby x you #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem! reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x you

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trackinglessons · 9 days

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

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baksterly · 12 days

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as I promised)

if this post will gain 1k I will post the next art with Ellie and Abby, but what will it be is a surprise hehe. so get to work! I can only give a spoiler that it will be a game

upd: needed to crop the whole picture because It can be removed(

#artists on tumblr #digital art #art #sketch art #sketch #artwork #lesbian #ellie x abby x you #abby x y/n #abby fanart #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson #abby x fem!reader #abby x you #abby x reader

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bunniehrtz · 1 day

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“Touch me while your bros play grand theft auto” with Abby 😵‍💫😵‍💫

cw: cockwarming, titplay, risky business in front of your friends

i need to re-listen to the anthology

they’d been playing for hours. all 6 of them. abby, manny, owen, mel, nora and leah. you didn’t want to join in, you didn’t care about this game. didn’t see the appeal. however, you saw the appeal in abby’s arm wrapped around your shoulder, your head against her chest. you were getting restless and needy, as always. abby notices. she puts the controller down, everyone turning to look at her. you and abby were on an armchair, manny and leah on a sofa and owen, mel and nora on a duvet on the floor. “one second, just gotta do something,” abby says, picking you up to place you on her lap. you’re cuddling under a blanket, now feeling incredibly grateful. you gasp lightly as the bulge you’re sat on top of. your eyes go wide, looking up at abby. she smirks, picking the controller back up. you sink back down onto her chest, trying to ignore the ache in your core.

“anyone else want to play?” she asks, your eyes almost perking up at the question. manny takes the controller from her, everyone gazing at the screen, or their phones. her hands grip your hips, clearing her throat as she leans in to whisper in your ear. “don’t make a sound,” she bucks her hips up gently. your eyes shut at the feeling, biting down on your bottom lip. you hide your face in the crook of abby’s neck. leah spots this from the corner of her eye, furrowing her brows at you. “she’s okay, tired,”

abby says for you, and she looks back at the screen. abby lifts your hips up gently, pulling her silicone cock from her sweatpants. she leans back in. “you’re going to sit on this dick until i tell you to get off. okay, baby?” she orders, you nod immediately. abby peels off your pyjama shorts and your underwear, pushing you back down on her dick so, very gently. you have to bite down on abby’s shoulder to stop a moan escaping your mouth. the feeling of your teeth on her skin makes abby gasp and she quickly covers it with a cough. you let out a tiny giggle that forces abby to push you down. “abby!” you scream. you cover your mouth quickly, looking over your shoulder at everyone. no one even looked. “naughty girl,” she whispers, her hands coming off and out of the blanket, now behind her head. your eyes roll back, the sight of her toned biceps forcing you back into hiding.

minutes that feel like hours pass until abby’s hands snake back under the blanket, making their way past your hips, where you expected them to stay, up into your shirt. she starts kneading, groping your tits while maintaining a conversation like it’s nothing. her calm, soft face drives you crazy. you look up at her, trying to get her attention. nothing. your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you can’t dare open them. your breathing is heavy and if anyone were to turn around they’d see you both moving up and down with each breath. each soft whimper that leaves your mouth is punished by a pinch to your nipple, only almost forcing another out. “so needy. just wait until everyone’s asleep and i’ll fuck you so good, baby. gotta wait for it.”

#the last of us #abby anderson #tlou #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson smut #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby x reader smut #the last of us abby #tlou abby #abby x you #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson the last of us #the last of us smut

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atyourmerci · 19 hours

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I don’t care that you’re a stoner

Ceo!abby

Dr. A.A

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, mean!abby, sub!reader, light bondage (belt), tribbing brrr, talks of strap usage, tribbing breeding kink brrr, degradation, fingering, cum play

A/N: this is technically a drabble but I gave it a title bc that’s what Chappell deserves

◊

Why Dr. Anderson decided to come to you, your pathetic excuse of an ‘office’ instead of your usual frequent visits to hers, was beyond you. Following her around like a dog to her every beck and call. Having to call her doctor since she insisted on getting her doctorate in finance…fucking prick.

Even your credentials, your place in the hierarchy of the company didn’t exclude you from being her little bitch. She seldom gave you the decency of just looking at you when you did her dirty work. Filing her papers, calling her clients, getting her coffee, black of course, like she would drink anything with an ounce of happiness.

She never thanked you. She made it clear where you stood to her, below her. A bleeding, breathing, able-minded body. It could be you, or the next, as long as it was done correctly.

So nice of her as she glares at you from the door of your office that was always open. “What are your plans for tonight?” She says driving her veiny wrists into her slack pockets, her normal intimidating eyes driving into your soul.

“I should be done that paperwork by six, is there something else I need to get to you?”

“After that,” she remarks sternly, as if you should’ve know that, as if that was something she’d ever asked before.

“Uhh go home?” You answer dumbly, utterly confused by her insistence on your personal endeavors.

“Come out with us tonight. We go to max’s down the road,” it was a question with no opportunity for refusal. You didn’t say no to Dr.Anderson.

“Oh I don’t-“ you shake your head before she cuts you off.

“I know I can smell you. Seven. Tonight.”

Sprawled out, aggressively stripped of your outing dress, on her luxurious thousand thread cotton sheets. Dr. Anderson’s Louis Vuitton belt tied around your wrist, her attempt to regain dominance.

Even as she’s panting, muffled curses coming out as pleas as she grinds her soaking cunt against your own. Her clit is so swollen now, after completely abusing your hole. Her pent up arousal seeping into the sticky mess she created with her relentless thrusts earlier.

“Couldn’t fucking stop thinking ‘bout this,” she pants out, rutting into you like a dog in heat, her sticky white cum ruining her precious expensive sheets.

You can’t seem to find words to remark her pathetic admission, so completely fucked out from your previous orgasm.

Kneading your breast in her hand she brings her teeth to your neck, biting down on the thin flesh, sure to leave marks for everyone to see. But that wasn’t enough for her.

“Gonna cum in this needy pussy, let everyone know how much of a whore you are.”

A guttural moan leaves your throat, the thought of her marking you, claiming you as hers.

“Hmm the little slut likes that? Getting used as my fucking cumdump?”

The only thing you can seem to mutter out is a sad ‘mhmm’ as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

A ‘fucking slut’ is heard in the background as you feel her reposition herself, turning herself sideways inbetween your legs, throwing your leg over her shoulder. She reconnects your swollen clits, with the addition of sliding two of her thick fingers back into you. Slipping in with ease, coating her fingers with the mix of pearl slick.

“FUCK,” you come back to your senses at the new sensation, needing to hold onto anything but your hands are still bound by her belt.

“Still so fucking tight, need to stretch her out so it’ll only feel good when I do it.” Her pace beginning to quicken, her hips bucking into your thigh. Her teeth biting into the flesh of your thigh, holding back whimpers of your name.

“B-better take all my cum. Every last drop slut,” she begins losing herself, her thrusts only getting sloppier. Gripping into the flesh of your thighs to stabilize herself, trying to get you off again before herself.

“I-I promise doctor.”

Was what set her off, dropping her head back as her mouth gapes. “fuckfuckholyfuck,” her legs begin to shake, hot white cream dripping out of her pulsing hole, dripping down your clit and finding its home in your own twitching abandoned hole.

Huffing out as she regains her stability, realizing she’s losing time, her cum dripping down to her sheets and spreading. Not where she needed it.

She takes her fingers back to your cunt, scooping up what’s left, pushing it deep inside of you and keeping them as far as she can get.

“This is what you wanted huh? Nasty fucking mess stuffed with my cum,” she says with a grin of the devil herself. So pleased seeing you so dumb for her, another level of submission she could coax you into.

You give a pathetic nod, feeling her cum painting your walls as she’s deep in your cervix. She begins giving tantalizing licks to your clit as she watches your chest rise and fall.

“Abby please-“

Before you could finish you feel a rough grab on your belt adorned wrists, pulling you up to face her.

“Get the rest you missed.” She says pulling you down into the sheets, your mouth opening instinctively. Licking the cum soaked cotton sheets as she watches you from below her.

Once she’s satisfied she grips your jaw in her hand, guiding your gaze to her soaking cunt, still dripping with the mix of both of your orgasms-

“Every. Last. Drop.”

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby angst #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #dom abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou x reader #abby x you #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson x f!reader

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