oh, abigail anderson adjusting her glasses, sliding them up the bump of her nose with two fingers of her left hand—the one with her watch. a slight flex of her bicep with the movement, her white shirt just tight enough to make it noticeable.
just hot!! hot!!
no more words were needed, just the lingering tone of ellie’s voice as she lay back on that worn brown leather armchair—so vintage, so pretentious, like the ridiculous secretary glasses slipping down the bump of abigail’s nose.
feeling abby settling between her legs, els didn’t hesitate to part them, even though abby was perfectly capable of making her own way without brute force. slowly, yearningly, ellie’s limbs wrapped around abigail’s waist, pulling her even closer, craving more, more, more of her.
with her left hand, ellie sought abigail’s face, her thumb brushing against her cheek, while her other hand moved swiftly to unbuckle her own belt. abby’s lips trailed down ellie’s cheek, wet, slow, until they reached her neck—where, just before she could leave a mark, ellie caught her jaw and pulled her away, locking eyes with her.
she wiped the saliva from abby’s lips with her thumb, only to be met with her wicked response—abs parted her lips and sucked on it lightly. a moan slipped from ellie, barely a sound, despite the fact that their bodies were still fully clothed. yet she could already feel the discomfort in her boxers, the hairs on her arms standing on end, her head tilting back, overstimulated by the simple image of abigail—her loose hair, her white bra, her back blocking the light of the lamp in the room.
soft laughter spilling from her lips.
and ellie—speechless, entirely, at the resonant feel of abby’s chest against hers, the rhythm of her quiet giggles. the glasses stayed on, but the clothes… that was another story.
fuck stanley cups, we need to go back to traditional values (carrying whiskey everywhere in a metal flask)
Can you hear us? Can you feel what we’re going through? Fear. Hunger. Death. A never-ending siege. The silence of the world hurts as much as the bombs.
We're crying out to your humanity—please don't look away. Speak about us. Stand with us. We're not okay. We're trying to survive.
This is not a nightmare. It's our reality.
Don't forget us. Do something—anything. Share. Donate. Repost. Help keep us alive.
>> Our campaign is vetted by gazavetters list at (#291) Momen & his family
her fingers dampened by sea salt, caresses the hardened muscles of abby’s abdomen, tracing up and down with a slow, lingering touch that never quite progresses. the roughness of her fingertips, worn from years of guitar playing, contrasts with the slight stickiness of the melted ice cream she’d held earlier. it dripped between her fingers, careless from kissing abs, savoring her instead of asking for a spoonful, experiencing the bittersweet taste of lemon directly from her lips. the lingering sugar makes her touch subtly adhere to abigail’s skin, as if she wishes her hands would always leave a trace.
abby shudders at the slow, swirling movements that turn ellie’s caress into a circular path around her navel. her thumb explores, while the rest of her fingers linger just at the edge of her swimsuit, brushing the area but not revealing it, only hinting at the possibility. it would seem like an innocent, almost indifferent caress, if not for abigail’s response, which reflects desire; their legs are intertwined, and even her hand, placed firmly on the curve of ellie’s ass, is clasping it. she caressed her complexion slowly, longing for the texture of her slightly damp skin beneath her fingers, still entirely warm from sun exposure, both their skins drying lazily.
their limbs fit naturally together, ellie rested on top of abby, torsos pressed against each other. her head finds refuge in the hollow of abigail’s neck, avoiding the sun’s rays, reluctant to gain more freckles. abigail simply closes her eyes; the arm that isn’t absorbed in massaging her buttock remains draped over ellie’s shoulder, bent at the elbow, framing the space where she nestles. it’s a firm hold, but unhurried—not seeking possession, only presence. she embraces her not to capture but to feel her close, to chase the serenity that comes from having williams lying against her.
abby’s wet blonde hair, freed from its braid, spills in long strands over her bare, freckled shoulder, clinging to her skin. els, in turn, returns the gesture, making her shiver as the soft strands of her own short hair tickle abigail’s neck. a kiss on williams’ forehead to protect the intimacy.
what song do you think of when you see this wip? sound off below
i was back into only listening to unreal unearth when i started this piece so the saved file is just called unreal but i dont necessarily think its like.. Any of the unreal unearth songs lol. anywho what do yall think bc i'm curious
headcanon of mine!! just something dumb, nothing too deep. 😞
abby’s a total sweetheart, literally such a good, kind person. she’s always joking around with her friends and grabbing random little things for lev if they remind her of him (like a shark plushie she saw once). she falls asleep reading whatever book she’s into at the moment. talking to her is actually so fun — she’s got this great vocab and somehow turns casual dinner or morning chats into deep, philosophical stuff without even meaning to, just by sharing her own thoughtful perspectives.
she starts her day walking alice at the park, gets her workout in, says hi to people she passes, then finishes her shift at the hospital and makes sure to say bye to every single one of her coworkers, even if she’s gonna see them the next day. abby loves greeting people and having quick chats, always genuinely interested in how her close circle is doing — or even ending up talking to an old lady in the grocery line about the price of blueberries.
she doesn’t really swear unless she’s really mad. when she is, she’d rather throw out a ridiculously specific, painfully accurate insult or just pull a face instead of cussing. not like ellie, who somehow says “fuck” ten times in two seconds while trying (and failing) to explain something.
abby’s totally the girl you’d bring home to your parents — polite, gentle and truly kind. even when she messes around with her strength, it’s never aggressive or mean. she’s just soft, with such a big heart. and the way she loves? yeah… her girlfriend’s soo lucky. (cough cough ellie cough cough)
I just found out two local gay artists were found murdered in their home. fuck. jesus. I knew these guys. I own their art. I've attended so many gallery openings at their shop. they've meant so much to the community here. and they're just fucking gone? just like that?
and of course the cops are claiming it's not a hate crime.
what a fucking cruel reminder that we can't ever trust that we're safe, not even in a historic gay neighborhood in a liberal city in a blue state. Mickey and Jordan, you won't be forgotten. I'm sorry.
hi all. I'm making this post rebloggable again to add the gofundmes set up for Mickey and Jordan's funeral costs. They've raised a lot already, which I think is a real testament to how loved they were by so many people. Mickey's brother, who organized his fundraiser, has said whatever is left over will go to causes that were close to their hearts.
I think I'm going to turn off reblogs when both fundraisers reach their goal. This is such an intensely painful thing to keep seeing in my notifs.
just thinking…
ellabs butch4butch always wrestling, with abby letting ellie win—ellie grinning wide, quickly leaning over the table to give abby a playful pat on the cheek before pressing a soft kiss right there.
both of them always sharing the same worn-out brown leather jacket from joel, still carrying the scent of abby’s favorite cologne.
ellie just dropping to her knees, leaving wet kisses on abby’s toned stomach—one of her favorite places.
and abby? abby loves having ellie in a headlock, whether it’s just to mess up her hair or when she’s behind her, fucking her deep with thick fingers, pace relentless. ellie’s trembling, but abby keeps her upright, the pressure on her neck grounding her as she breathes heavy in her ear, warm breath trailing down her skin, sending a shiver straight through her, making the happy trail on her stomach bristle.
Ellabs photo booth ! <3
(really short and dumb, sorry 😞)
Both of them stumbled into the small photo booth, exchanging slow, wet kisses in rushed succession as Ellie eagerly pressed her lips against Abigail’s. As the red velvet curtain fell shut behind them, Ellie immediately settled beside her, squinting slightly at the light. Meanwhile, Abby pulled off her beanie, instinctively running a hand through her blonde hair in an attempt to smooth the long, messy strands.
Abby patted her own muscular thigh, signaling for her to sit there, but instead, Ellie tucked both legs up onto the blonde’s lap, settling into the cramped space. Abby, surrendering to the gesture, slid a hand to Ellie’s side, squeezing gently before tracing slow circles over the denim fabric with her thumb.