im thinking about gf!ellie surprising u while ure sleeping and she crawls in next to you and wipes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead until you wake up… and she just babies you and holds you and and and
(so izzie . u know i was very happy to receive this ask. u cooked twin :3)
it starts with a double take. she got home from patrol and checked on you like usual, saw u were asleep, and tried to go ahead with getting herself comfortable again — but she finds herself glancing back immediately, as if the sight of ur lashes fanning across ur cheeks took her hostage. she's so whipped she sits over you n stares for an unacceptable amount of time, grateful you aren't conscious to witness it. she almost doesn't wanna touch you in case you wake, and she ruins it :( but she can't help it.
so she warms up her hands a little first, because she'd be murdered if she woke u up with freezing ass hands on you!!! and then she cradles ur cheek, the calloused pad of her thumb swiping over ur bottom lip. she bites her own very lightly, feeling her cheeks start to burn, bc what the fuck do you mean this is her gf? she somehow pulled this? the cuteness aggression begins (and i do believe ellie would suffer from cuteness aggression big time! she's gotta squeeze and kiss and bite everywhere bc you're so cute!) .
kisses everywhereeee. on ur forehead, ur cheeks, the tip of ur nose, ur lips, eyebrows, gosh, she'd kiss every individual eyelash if she could. that's how u wake up, being treated to a barrage of hungry kisses all over your face, and when she realises you're awake she pulls away to apologise — but that only exaggerates the look on her face, how large her pupils are just looking at ur sleepy, dazed face.
"hi baby!" she chuckles a little, even more so at your confused, "hi," back. the affectionate attack continues, with ellie laying down next to you and pulling u into her arms. "you sleep good?"
u nod, face squished up against her chest. the rest of the afternoon is spent just like that, remaining so sleepy and comforted by ellie's love. her hand never ceases its circular motions on the small of ur back, and she just keeps on peppering kisses over ur forehead and mumbling about how pretty u are <3 it's this vicious cycle — cuddles, compliments, kisses, even little love bites -> u becoming shyer as a result -> her finding that so adorable that she can't stop! ughhhhhhh ellie ellie ellie ellie ellie . . . bite me
A/N: hi guys! i am still alive and well, dont worry. i had some life ending exams and i still am not done with them. so if yu never hear from me again i got murdered by education. anyway. i will be more free and done with them fully by the end of the first half of june. so wait for me for a bit. i heard you all. i received crazy amounts of asks about boyfriend part two. so here it is. i hope you like it. as always, i have not reread it. because i am pretty sure that if i did, i would not like the plot. so deal with it.
You don’t text Ellie for nine days.
Not because you don’t want to. You type out messages at 2 a.m., delete them, type them again, then throw your phone across the room like it’s personally betraying you. The bag she sold you sits in the back of your desk drawer like evidence. Every time you look at it you remember the purple glow on her ceiling, the way her shoulder felt against yours, solid and warm through two layers of fabric, and the casual way she said “you’re just gay” like it was the weather.
Your boyfriend, Jake, is still perfect on paper. He brings you oat milk lattes before your 8 a.m. lectures, kisses your temple when you’re stressed, asks about your stats grade like he actually cares. You kiss him back and feel… nothing. Not disgust. Just flatline. Like kissing a very nice pillow.
So when the second Friday after That Night rolls around and your roommate is out at some frat thing, you smoke way too much alone in your dorm. You’re not even sure why. One hit turns into four, turns into coughing so hard you see stars, turns into lying on your back staring at the popcorn ceiling while your thoughts scream.
Everything feels too loud. The way your skin prickles under your clothes. The memory of Ellie’s freckles. The fact that you googled “how to know if you’re a lesbian” at 3 a.m. last Tuesday and then immediately cleared your search history like the FBI was watching. You’re high as hell and suddenly the walls are closing in and the only person who knows the ugly crying version of you is Ellie Williams, weed dealer and apparent part-time gay crisis counselor.
You pull on a hoodie over your sleep shirt (some oversized thing Jake left here) and shove your feet into sneakers without socks. Your hair is a mess. You don’t care. You text her before you can chicken out.
you: hey it’s cass’s friend. the one who cried in your living room. you around?
The reply comes faster than you expect.
ellie: yeah. door’s open if you’re quick
You almost laugh. Almost.
The walk to her duplex feels longer this time. The air is colder, late October biting through your hoodie. Your hands shake in your pockets the whole way. When you get there the door is cracked open like she said, warm light spilling out onto the porch. You knock anyway, polite to a fault even when you’re disintegrating.
Ellie appears in the doorway wearing the same faded black t-shirt as last time, or maybe a different one. They all look the same. Her hair’s messier, like she’s been running her hands through it. She’s got a joint already burning between her fingers.
“You look fucked up,” she says, not unkindly.
“I am,” you admit.
She steps aside without another word.
Inside it’s the same purple LED glow, but the coffee table has more chaos now—empty energy drink cans, a sketchbook open to some half-finished drawing of a moth, a controller on the floor. The couch has a blanket thrown over it like she was napping there. It smells like weed and the faint piney soap she probably uses.
You hover in the middle of the room like an idiot.
Ellie drops back onto the couch and looks up at you, one eyebrow raised. “You here for more weed or another emotional breakdown? Because I charge double for therapy.”
“Both?” Your voice cracks. You laugh at how stupid you sound, but it comes out shaky.
She studies you for a second, that same assessing look from last time. Then she shrugs. “Whatever, man. Sit.”
You sit. Too close maybe. Your thigh almost touches hers. She doesn’t move away.
She passes you the joint without asking. You take it, fingers brushing hers, and this time you don’t cough as hard. The smoke curls in your lungs and spreads out like warm syrup. The high you already had doubles, triples. Your body sinks heavier into the cushions.
For a while it’s quiet. Just the low hum of whatever indie rock playlist she has going and the occasional car passing outside.
Then you start talking.
“I keep thinking about what you said,” you murmur, staring at the ceiling. “That I’m just gay. I can’t stop thinking about it. I tried to… I don’t know. Unthink it. But then Jake kissed me yesterday and I felt like I was cheating on someone I haven’t even met yet.”
Ellie exhales smoke through her nose. “Damn. A tale as old as time.”
“Yeah. Damn.” You take another hit. Your head is swimming. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. You’re basically a stranger. But you’re also the only… person like me that I know. And I’m so fucking high right now.”
She chuckles softly. “I can tell.”
You turn your head to look at her. She’s already watching you. The purple light catches in her eyes, makes the green look almost unreal. Her freckles stand out more up close. You count them without meaning to. One near the corner of her mouth. Another on her eyelid.
“You’re really pretty,” you blurt.
Ellie blinks. Then she laughs, surprised. “Okay, you’re really high.”
“I mean it.” Your face burns but you can’t stop. “I noticed last time but I was crying too much to say it. You have nice hands. And your arms look like you could… I don’t know. Carry stuff. Heavy stuff.”
She rubs a hand over her face, smirking. “Jesus Christ.”
“Sorry. I’m being so weird.”
“You’re not.” She pauses. “Well. You are. But it’s fine.”
The silence stretches again, but it’s different now. Thicker. Charged. Your heart is hammering so loud you’re sure she can hear it. The high makes everything feel immediate, every nerve ending awake. You’re aware of the way your hoodie rides up on your stomach, the brush of your bare thigh against the couch, the way Ellie’s knee is only inches from yours.
“I’ve never kissed a girl,” you whisper.
Ellie goes still.
You keep going because the words won’t stop. “I’ve thought about it. A lot. Like… way too much. In class. In the library. When Jake’s asleep next to me. I feel disgusting about it but I can’t stop.”
She turns toward you fully now. Her expression is unreadable, that casual “whatever man” mask cracking just a little. “You’re playing with fire coming here like this, you know that?”
“I know.” Your voice is barely audible. “I just… I needed to tell someone. And you’re here. And you’re… you.”
Ellie stares at you for a long moment. Then she mutters, “Fuck it,” under her breath.
She leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. You don’t.
The first touch of her lips is soft. Tentative. Nothing like Jake’s confident, practiced kisses. Ellie’s mouth is warm and a little chapped and tastes like weed and the cherry chapstick she must use. Your brain short-circuits. You make a small, embarrassing sound in the back of your throat.
She pulls back an inch. “Still okay?”
You answer by kissing her again, clumsier this time, more eager. Your noses bump. She laughs quietly against your mouth and tilts her head, guiding you. One of her hands comes up to rest lightly on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. The other stays on the couch between you like she’s trying to keep some control.
It’s silly. You’re both a little too high, a little too awkward. Your teeth click once. You don’t know where to put your hands so you settle for gripping the front of her t-shirt like it’s a lifeline. She tastes new. Different. Better. The realization hits you like a truck: this is what it’s supposed to feel like. This spark, this melting warmth low in your stomach, the way your skin feels electric where she touches you.
Ellie makes a low sound when you press closer, half sigh, half something else. She deepens the kiss, tongue brushing yours shyly at first, then bolder. You melt into it. Your brain is full of static and stars and the smell of her, smoke and soap and something uniquely Ellie.
When you finally break apart you’re both breathing hard. Your lips feel swollen. Her eyes are darker, pupils blown wide from the high and something else.
“Shit,” she mutters, resting her forehead against yours.
“Yeah,” you agree, voice shaky. A giggle bubbles up out of nowhere. “That was… I just kissed a girl.”
Ellie grins, crooked and real. “You did. How was it?”
“Terrifying.” You laugh again, the sound giddy and loose. “Really good. Can we do it again?”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “You’re being greedy.”
You kiss her again before she can say anything else. This time it’s slower, more exploratory. You map the shape of her mouth, the little scar on her bottom lip you hadn’t noticed before. Her hand slides into your hair, fingers tangling gently. When she tugs just right you shiver so hard she notices.
“Easy,” she murmurs against your lips. “We’re not doing anything crazy tonight. You’re still figuring shit out.”
“I know.” You kiss the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the freckles on her nose because you can. “I just… I needed this. Needed to know what it felt like.”
Ellie lets you. She even tilts her head so you can reach more of her face. You end up half in her lap somehow, hoodie unzipped, her hands resting respectfully on your waist over your shirt. You kiss until your lips are numb and your jaw aches and the high starts to level out into something softer, warmer. Every so often one of you pulls back and you just look at each other, breathing the same air.
At some point you end up lying down, your head on her chest, her arm around your shoulders. The couch is too small for both of you but neither of you moves. Her heartbeat is steady under your ear.
“You’re gonna have to deal with your boyfriend situation,” she says quietly after a while, fingers tracing slow circles on your arm.
“I know.” The words feel heavy but not as terrifying as before. “Not tonight though.”
“Not tonight,” she agrees.
You tilt your head up to look at her. “Can I come back? Even if it’s just to… talk. Or this. Whatever this is.”
Ellie looks down at you, her expression uncharacteristically soft. “Yeah. You can come back.”
You smile and hide your face in her shirt. She smells like home in a way nothing else ever has. Nothing is solved. But for the first time, curled against Ellie Williams on her worn-out couch with the taste of her still on your lips, the future doesn’t feel like a trap.
It feels like a question you’re finally brave enough to ask.
synopsis: you're making your way back to your apartment with your girlfriend, abby, when you notice your mom has paid you an unforseen visit.
cw: hurt/comfort, talks of homophobia, bad parent-child relationship, tinge of religious guilt, internalized homophobia
an/: sorry ig...🤠 just been in one of those closet lesbian moods, yk how it goes. also ik this song is ab grief but it lowkey fits here, too.
tags: @pomm3verte
Hiding was mever something you ever enjoyed. Not in games. Never in reality. Yet it had become such a fundamental part of your life up til this point. Hiding away your interests at the risk of being "found out". Hiding what you truly felt about things so as to not "make a scene".
By far, the hardest thing to have to hide, was your feelings for a one Abby Anderson.
From the moment you met her, with her soft smile and reluctant presence, you knew you could come to love her. And it reigned true, Abby and your relationship having been going steady for the past 3 years.
You were hesitant at first to pursue her, knowing that where you stood at the time, you couldn't promise her an open and confident love. A love where you could be all you wanted to be and do what you wanted to do in public. You were already miserable in this lifestyle. You couldn't imagine subjecting her to the same torture.
Luckily for you— unfortunately, for the cause— Abby was more than okay with just being your best friend in shared company and your girlfriend when it was just you two. In turn, her support and confidence in your relationship gradually made you open yourself up more, feeling yourself getting more receptive to the idea of coming out.
Plus, the town you moved to was known for being one of the better ones in terms of progression, so it was a massive win for you guys. Kissing in public was still something you'd be cautious about, but it wasn't a larger than life obstacle to overcome anymore.
Regardless of the newfound freedom you'd found in your new home and life with Abby, one thing you'd always been regretful about was never being able to formally introduce her as your partner to your parents. Sure, they'd heard of her in the time you still lived at home, a few years prior to you two making it official. But they would never know the true nature of your relationship.
Not until, today.
"You're such a hornball, Abby!" you squealed as she opened the passenger door of her car for you to exit.
"I might be," she replied, leaning in close, "But don't pretend you aren't excited to find out what I have planned for you later," she finished, kissing you deeply on the lips.
Normally, you'd be opposed to being so intimate outside closed doors, but your neighbours were pretty much used to it. Anyone walking in and out of the lobby had probably seen you both, many a time before.
"Stooop, the ice-cream's melting. We have to get inside," you "protested", not quite pulling away from her.
You made your way to the elevator where Abby immediately couldn't keep her hands— well, lips, since she insisted on holding the grocery bags— off of you.
You giggled at every touch, dragging out her name in response, "At least wait till we get inside," you tried.
"I don't see you complaining," she planted another kiss on your neck, watching your eyes flutter closed because, yes, you in fact weren't complaining.
When you made it to your apartment floor, you two all but ran to the door, fumbling with the keys to try getting inside as fast as possible so you could do all the things you couldn't do amongst general public.
"Hurry up babe," she whined, kissing on you from behind.
Your hands trembled with excitement, "I'm trying!"
As soon as the lock clicked, you pushed the door open, letting Abby in first. You watched as she dropped the bags to the floor and, without another thought, pulled you into her embrace.
"Someone's eager today," you teased, twirling you guys around so her back was to the door.
She looked down at you, letting your foreheads touch, "I just love you, is all."
You rose to your tipped toes, wrapping your arms around her neck, kissing her lovingly, when you heard a shift and felt Abby tense. Opening your eyes, you found her looking past you, so naturally, you turned to see what the problem was. Maybe Cheese, your cat, had made a mess again. What you hadn't expected to see was your mother, stood in the living room, staring at the two of you.
Your blood ran cold as the keys fell from your, now weak, hands.
She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to know.
Words betrayed you as you just stared right back at her, mouth agape. By the time your brain caught up to you, she had already left, slamming the door on her way out.
"Babe?" Abby tried, feeling the way your frozen frame started to tremble.
"Oh god," you blinked, realising what just happened. A broken sob left your mouth as you exhaled harshly, "Oh god.."
You broke down right then and there, Abby immediately catching you before your legs gave out, whispering consolations in your ear.
"It's okay, baby, it's okay," she tried calming down your now hyperventilating self to no avail.
"She-" you tried in between breaths and cries, "She saw. She knows, she-" You knees grew weak at the situation.
Abby promptly led you to the couch where she dared not leave your side. You continued sobbing into her chest, as she rubbed your back and cradled your head. "I know baby, I know. But it'll all work out eventua-"
That caught your attention, "No the fuck it won't?" you responded slightly pulling away from her, roughly wiping the nonstop tears flowing down your face.
"How is this supposed to work out, Abby?" You sniffled, looking at her confused and angry.
"Honey, I-"
"She's gonna hate me now, you know that right?" You raised your voice, becoming increasingly irritated at the notion of things "working out". "She's never gonna speak to me again, she's gonna tell my whole family to never speak to be again. My dad...he's- he's gonna fucking hate me now," you cried.
And maybe it was what you needed to hear, but it didn't help in the moment.
"If they truly can't accept this part of you, then it's their loss. They don't deserve you, sweetpea."
It hurt. It hurt to hear her be so right when all you felt was just all sorts of wrong. It felt wrong to be okay with losing out on family. It felt wrong to be angry.
It felt wrong to be like this.
You knew what the reaction would be. You knew the outcome. Yet you still chose this life that you've come to resent in this very moment.
"Hey," your girlfriend pulled you out of your thoughts, "Don't spiral on me here. What're you thinking, huh?"
You didn't even know what to say.
I'm thinking that I shouldn't be with you. I'm thinking being a lesbian is a bad decision i made, and I should go back to the way God wanted me to be.
It was awful to be thrown back into those patterns. All from one stupid little house visit.
"Why was she even here?" You settled for, "She doesn't come over unannounced. And she doesn't have a key as far as i'm concerned." All valid questions you had now that you'd calmed your breathing and signigucantly reduced your sniffles.
Abby continued holding you close as you muttered questions of your mom's sudden appearance to yourself, driving yourself crazy trying to work out the logistucs of everything.
"Hey, hey," She tried, "For now it doesn't matter how she got in, okay? For right now, you just need to breathe."
You reluctantly obliged, taking deep breaths mirroring your girlfriend's demostrations.
Trying to relax right that moment felt anything but productive. Even though you knew that the rest of your family finding out was inevitable and quite frankly, wasn't gonna make you any less gay, it still felt like your mom was a ticking time bomb.
Like, maybe if you just got to her before she could get the chance to tell anyone else, you'd have a chance to salvage your relationship. But that was wrong, of course.
You recalled being a child watching an episode of 'Say Yes to the Dress' on TLC featuring a lesbian couple.
"Hah, if one of my children ever said they were a lesbian i'd kill them," You remembered your mom saying with a wide smile as the whole family laughed.
All those little moments over the years where it was more than clear where everyone stood on the matter, came back to you. Disgusting. Wrong. Ungodly.
Yet somewhere deep down, you hoped it could all be reversed.
You knew that wasn't true. It never would be. It was just wishful thinking; the dregs of your love for your mother—your family— clouding your judgment.
They'd never love you the same. And that was just something you had to live with.
"It's all over, Abby." You sobbed into her chest for the third time that evening, the reality of the situation washing over you, your chest rattling against Abby's strong hold as your cries grew.
"It's okay, let it all out," she padded at your back, shedding a few tears of her own.
"Listen to me, okay baby?" she spoke into your hair, "None of this is your fault, okay? You don't need to feel guilty for any of this. And you sure as hell don't need to apologize to them. If anything, they owe you an apology for showing you just how conditional their love was."
It was as if she'd read your mind. It was, though, because you'd both talked about this scenario many times before. How you would react, how you'd move forward, your thoughts on how you'd try to mend things if you were to ever try. Never did you think it'd actually be coming true.
"I'm so sorry it had to turn out this way. You deserve so much better, and so much more than they've ever given you. I know it won't be the sam, but you know my folks are always there to support you. I'm always gonna be here for you." she assured, stroking your hair, "And one day, in time, things'll be better. For now.. it's okay to hurt. I know this really sucks, but just remember, nothing is wrong with you. You weren't made wrong, you aren't being sinful. You just..are. And you're beautiful. All of you."
With her words and sincerity, your heart melted like the long forgotten tub of ice cream left by the door.
😬hope that was okay..... uhhh, yeah. thanks for reading, and for everyone being so patient, i literally didn't know how to write the comfort parts cus that's such a foreign concept to me especially for a situation like this lol, but I got it done.. somewhat. i think.
𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: 18+ only MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, established relationship, horror elements, descriptions of bones breaking/snapping, blood, kissing, scenting, abby’s boobies.
𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 7.2k
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: holy shit it’s done! this really was a labor of love because I wanted to give up on it many, many times over the past week. but I really need to thank @justanotherabbystan for brainstorming and helping me work through the parts of this fic that made me want to rip my hair out. so I’m dedicating this one to you lana <3
p.s. I also want to further expand on this au with blurbs and headcanons and some other one-shots to show abby’s shifts, her regaining her control and the progression of their relationship. but I hope you all enjoy this one xx.
An empty bed.
That’s the first thing you’re aware of when you begin to stir, your palm reaching out across the mattress in search of the steady, familiar warmth you’ve come to expect. But you find nothing, just an empty space right where Abby should be.
The sheets are still warm and for a moment you just lay there, waiting for any indication that she’s still here. The soft thud of her boots, the tug of a zipper, a muffled sniffle but you’re only met with resounding silence. Your eyes flutter open, the dimly lit room slowly coming back into focus.
“Abby?” you murmur around a yawn.
No answer.
You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you glance around your shared space. It looks the same as you left it a few hours ago, nothing amiss besides her presence. Moonlight spills through the slits in your curtains, the clock on your bedside table showing just after midnight. Your gaze drifts over to her side of the bed, and a feeling of dread instantly washes over you.
The sheets are ruined, a series of long slashes tearing deeply into the mattress beneath. You trace a finger over them and your heart thuds erratically because you swear they look like claw marks. But the stains of crimson that litter the shredded fabric has bile suddenly rising up your throat.
Abby’s hurt. She came back from patrol like this and didn’t say anything.
Damn her and her stubborn pride.
You spring from the bed in an instant, suddenly wide awake as you reach to pull on whatever clothes are closest. You nearly stumble as you pull a pair of worn sweats over your bare legs and frantically shove your feet inside your boots, gripping onto the back of a chair for support.
Your fingers grasp onto the rough collar of Abby’s jacket slung over the back of the chair, her pack resting untouched on the floor beside it. That feeling of dread coils tighter in your stomach when you notice her gun is amongst the belongings, tucked safely inside its holster. That’s how you know something is very wrong.
Abby Anderson is a force to be reckoned with, one of the strongest soldiers in the WLF’s ranks but she’s not invincible. Nor was she stupid enough to go off on her own, completely unarmed and injured. So what would have pushed her to that point, where she would leave without even saying goodbye?
Something tightens in your chest when you think back on when she slipped into bed with you just a few hours earlier, the movement stirring you enough from your sleepy haze to reach out for her. You felt her stiffen beneath your gentle touch, heard the harsh intake of breath before she carefully guided your hand up to rest on her shoulder.
“S’everything okay?” you ask, blinking up at her.
“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she’d said, pressing a kiss to your brow before pulling you closer. “Just a little sore, I’ll be fine.”
Deep down, you knew it was more than that.
But you’d been too tired to argue, and now you really wish you had.
You reach for her jacket, slipping your arms through the too long sleeves and snatching up the firearm to tuck it inside the innermost pocket. The scent of peppermint and pine wraps around you, but it does little to soothe you as you rush out of the room.
The stadium is quieter this time of night, only a few stray soldiers milling about. On any other occasion you’d find it sort of peaceful, but now the hum of the overhead lights only seems to set your nerves alight. Every instinct inside you is telling you to run, to move faster—she needs you.
But you keep your pace steady, your breathing even, a mask of complete calm. The last thing you need is to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself. So you let your feet guide you further down the winding halls, already knowing the way. There’s an unused maintenance tunnel hidden beneath the stadium, leading well past the high walls and watchful eyes of the WLF.
Abby had shown it to you months ago, the first time the two of you had snuck out to the aquarium. She’d found it by complete accident, late one night when sleep had continued to evade her. She’d said it was yours, a discreet way out in case the two of you ever needed it…and it was clear tonight that you did.
You give one quick glance behind you to ensure you’re still alone before you throw open the door and duck into the empty stairwell. Your heart thumps unevenly as you race down the steps, no longer caring how loudly your footsteps echo up the stairwell. The sound follows behind you, rivaling each heavy thud of your heart. But you don’t stop until you finally reach the landing, throwing open the basement door and stumbling into the dimly lit hallway.
The smell hits you immediately, the air thick with the scent of rust, mildew and something metallic that clings to the back of your throat. The lights above you flicker with each step you take, offering brief flashes of the path ahead before you’re bathed in darkness again. It’s so much eerier than you remember, all of your senses heightening as you trudge forward.
The exposed pipes above you hiss and groan every so often, which only adds to your feeling of unease. You’ve never been down here on your own before, so used to the comfort and safety that Abby’s presence always provided. But now you find yourself jumping at every shadow, unable to discern what’s real from the horrors your mind continues to conjure up.
Something suddenly scurries across your feet, causing your breath to punch out in a sharp gasp as you slam back against the opposite wall. But the sight of the small, harmless mouse has a startled laugh bubbling past your lips.
Pull yourself together, you scold yourself. You’re no use to her in this state.
So you take a deep breath and keep moving, forcing down the fear that threatens to consume you whole, until it’s just a dull ache beneath your ribs.
You’re nearing the end of the hall now, where the corridor splits off in two different directions. Your eyes linger on the faded arrows, the words above labeled Maintenance Access and the other Storage.
That’s when you notice it, a smear of crimson across the wall.
The panic slams back into you like a freight train, because it’s fresh, still wet enough to catch in the muted light. Abby had just been through here, but you don’t find any comfort in that sudden revelation. Your feet carry you faster down the hall now, your boots sloshing wetly against the cracked cement.
But as you round the corner you discover it’s not just one small smudge, she’s left a bloody trail.
The marks drag unevenly along the wall, the color looking unnaturally bright against the pale brick. You follow them further down the corridor until the trail abruptly ends, not far from the entrance to the maintenance tunnel. But your eyes linger there for a moment, on the scattered, bloody palm prints that have smeared in some places where her hands must have slipped, like she was struggling to even hold herself upright.
“Goddamnit, Abigail…” you hush under your breath, turning your gaze back to the door.
The sight of it makes your heart stop.
The rusted door—hinges and all have been crushed, dented inward like someone had taken a battering ram to it. The handle is missing, torn clean off as the edges of the door curl in on itself like something pried it open. Nausea stirs in the pit of your stomach as you take a step closer to further inspect the damage and discover a near perfect indent of a shoulder in the metal.
And your thoughts can’t help but drift through the early signs of infection you were taught to recognize: extreme aggression, unnatural strength, the complete loss of control…
But you immediately shove the thought aside before it can take root. There’s no way it could be true.
Then why would she leave you like that? A small voice in the back of your mind sneers.
Releasing a harsh breath, you step forward, reaching for the curled edge and pulling. The metal groans in protest, scraping against the cement floor but it opens a little wider for you to be able to squeeze inside. But as you slip through the narrow gap, the metal catches on the sleeve of your jacket and pulls some of the threads loose. You curse softly, but keep moving until the darkness of the tunnel swallows you whole.
The air feels different here, hollow and cold. The corridor seems smaller, emptier than you remember and even as your eyes slowly start to adjust, that feeling doesn't relent. Instead it presses down on you, like the walls themselves are closing in now that there’s no one to shield you from the dark. The panic threatens to bring you to your knees but you swallow it down, reaching out a hand, allowing your fingers to drift along the cold cement and letting it guide you.
Despite the lingering darkness, you can still picture her here. Walking just a step ahead of you, pulling you down the narrow tunnel, her fingers tangled with yours like she never planned on letting you go. The not so subtle way she’d glance over her shoulder at you, her eyes shining with warmth and affection that was only ever meant for you. And how you’d continue to pull her to a stop, reeling her back in to steal soft, breathless kisses that echo with your shared laughter.
But Abby isn’t here and you can feel the weight of her absence with each step that you take.
Your fingertips brush over the curved edge of the wall and you follow it, rounding that final corner. At the far end of the tunnel, moonlight spills in through the hatch above, bathing everything it touches in a harsh, pale glow. That feeling of dread instantly slithers back into your veins, because that hatch is not supposed to be open.
Why would she leave it open?
Your hazy memories from the last few hours begin to surface now, slow and unrelenting.
The way she held you a little tighter than usual, the hushed ‘I love you’ she pressed into your hair right before you drifted off and the way she lingered after, like she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.
Each one only solidifies the horrifying truth you’d been too afraid to face until now.
She'd been bit.
The realization settles deep within your chest, suffocating and heavy because she wasn’t just being affectionate, she was saying goodbye.
Hot, angry tears blur your vision and you’re unable to stop the moisture from slipping down your cheeks as you take those last few steps and grab onto the rusted rungs of the ladder and start to climb.
The night air is crisp, the gentle breeze stinging your damp cheeks as the familiar smell of fresh rain and pine fills your nose. The forest stretches out before you like a dark and endless abyss, only the smallest slivers of moonlight lighting your way. But it’s way too quiet, you realize the deeper you descend into the trees. There’s no chittering wildlife, or the soft hum of cicadas to drown out your racing thoughts.
It’s like the forest itself is holding its breath.
Dead leaves crunch beneath your boots as you walk, your eyes scanning your surroundings for any sign that she’d been through this way. They land on a tree just a few paces ahead, and you instantly pick up your pace until you’re able to see it more clearly. You swallow thickly, reaching out to trace your fingers over the four long scratch marks that are embedded into the bark.
“Abby?” you call softly.
Silence.
So you continue on, noting how the ferns up ahead were wilted and crushed—she’d been here too.
There’s a sudden, loud snap that stops you dead in your tracks and you move on impulse, quickly ducking behind a fallen log. You hold your breath, straining your ears to listen for that haunting whistle that would inevitably sign your death warrant.
But the forest falls silent again.
There’s no flicker of flames from a torch, or arrows slicing through the night air. So you wait a heartbeat longer, still not fully trusting that you’re safe. When nothing happens, you carefully rise from your hiding place and continue deeper into the trees.
Another sharp crack echoes up ahead and you immediately turn toward it.
“Abby?” you call again into the darkness, and the answering yelp has you taking off in a full sprint, no longer caring about the possibility of Scars or infected because she needs you.
Branches whip past your face and bite into your cheeks but you don’t care, you force your legs to carry you faster. There’s a break in the line of trees up ahead, the opening of a small clearing. She’s close now, you can hear each choked breath that leaves her, every painful whimper and it fractures something deep inside your chest.
You burst through the line of trees at the edge of the clearing and stop dead in your tracks.
Abby is crouched near the base of a tree, her back to you as she keeps one hand braced against the trunk while the other clutches onto her side. Her hair is loose, spilling wildly over her broad shoulders and down the middle of her back. Slivers of moonlight shine through the canopy above, casting the rest of her in shadow.
“Abby?” you whisper, taking a tentative step forward.
Her head instantly snaps up and when she turns to face you, your stomach twists. Her eyes look wrong, but not in the way you’re expecting. They aren’t bloodshot, there’s no yellowing around the irises, in fact they’re almost too bright. The moonlight reflecting off them in a way that feels more animal than human.
Abby mutters your name low in her throat, almost as if it pains her to speak. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
You take another step. “Neither should you.”
She ignores the accusation in your tone. “Turn around and go back to the stadium, now.” The sudden authority in her voice leaves no room for argument.
Your anger flairs. “I’m not some soldier that you can order around, Abby. I’m not leaving you like this.”
“Why are you always so stubborn?” she growls.
“Why are you?” you fire back, taking another step into the clearing. “You disappear in the middle of the night and expect me not to—”
Abby doubles over with a sharp, choked sound and the anger evaporates from your body as you rush forward.
“Don’t come any closer.” She snarls, but it’s not anger lacing her words. It’s fear. “I fucking mean it.”
But you don’t listen, taking another step toward her hunched form and it’s only now that you realize she’s shaking. Violently.
“Abby, look at me.” you press, nearly close enough to reach out and touch her. “Whatever this is, we’ll find a way to deal with it, together. Just tell me—”
“No,” she says through gritted teeth, something dark and primal bleeding into her voice.
Something that doesn’t sound human.
“Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
“Because I don’t know what this is!” she shouts, hunching further into herself as her body fights off another violent shudder.
“So it’s not…cordyceps?” you ask slowly.
But there’s no relief that comes with the small jerk of her head.
Abby suddenly struggles to her feet, using the tree as leverage, gripping onto it so hard that the bark cracks beneath the pressure of her palms. She moves several paces back before you can stop her, her movements jerky and uncoordinated like her body is becoming foreign to her. She’s only able to make it a few more feet when her legs give out and she falls to her knees. You rush toward her panting form without thinking about the consequences.
“Stop, please,” she pleads, something shifting behind her eyes. “Something’s happening and I…” Her fingers dig harshly into the earth beneath her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
That stops you in your tracks.
You’ve seen Abby take down grown men with her bare hands, kill her way through hoards of infected with startling ease but you’ve never seen her look so overcome with fear as you do right now.
“You won’t.”
She just shakes her head.
“I can’t fight it anymore,” she says between clenched teeth. “You need to go, now.”
But you just shake your head, “I told you I’m not leaving you.”
Abby screams in agony as she collapses forward, her spine arching painfully as her knees buckle beneath her. But you can’t do anything but stand there and watch in utter horror as her limbs twist unnaturally, the bones snapping and reshaping themselves beneath her skin. Sharp claws sprout from the calloused hands that cradled you mere hours ago, her flesh stretching to accommodate her newly elongated limbs.
Dark fur begins to push through the skin along her arms and down the back of her neck as her body expands, shoulders widening. Her t-shirt strains against her chest, the worn fabric unable to withstand the sudden growth and it splits apart at the seams. Her breath comes out in harsh, painful grunts, each one sounding more animalistic than the last and you have to force yourself to look away.
But the sound of your name has your head snapping back up as she forces herself to stand on shaking legs, looking at you with a pained expression.
“Please,” she pleads, a sudden raw edge to her voice. “Baby, please just go.”
But you’re frozen in place.
“Go!” she shouts, her voice distorting into something vicious and unrecognizable.
The last of her control fractures as she seizes, her whole body contorting in a violent convulsion that threatens to tear you apart. She looks at you one last time, her eyes glassy and pleading before they squeeze shut and her body forcibly gives in to the change with a final sickening crack of her spine.
Then the forest stills, and it’s over.
Abby doesn’t move for a long moment, keeping her head bowed as she sucks in several deep, ragged breaths. Every muscle is still twitching, the aftershocks of the transformation rippling under her skin like a live wire. Every part of you longs to run to her, to pull her close and hold her through the tremors but your feet are still rooted in place.
A soft breeze suddenly whips through the trees, rustling the leaves overhead and stirring up your hair. Abby immediately goes rigid, muscles flexing as she lifts her head to meet your wide-eyed gaze, and your stomach sinks.
Her eyes are glowing, golden and bright, leaving no trace of the deep blue you’ve come to know. Her silhouette is all sharp angles and corded muscle, a glimmer of sharp teeth and claws in the moonlight. She doesn’t look like the woman you fell for anymore—she’s a force of nature, something so powerful that the forest itself seems to cower in her presence.
And yet, there’s something so familiar about the way she holds herself, the hunger in her eyes. It’s disarming and terrifying all at once.
A low, warning growl rumbles through her chest when you move, instinctively reaching out for her despite every instinct in your body warning you to turn and run.
“Abs?”
She doesn’t respond, merely tilts her head as she takes a slow, measured step toward you.
“Abby…” you try again, softer this time. “It’s me, you know me.”
She begins to pace in a slow, predatory circle that makes it feel like the world is closing in around you. She moves with a terrifying grace, keeping her head low and eyes locked on you as if she’s measuring the distance, calculating exactly how long it would take to get to you. A lion closing in on a cornered gazelle.
Her gaze suddenly drops to your throat, sharp and deliberate as it fixes on where your pulse thrums beneath your skin, and the lack of recognition there has your throat tightening.
“Please,” you plead, your voice trembling. “I know you’re still in there.”
Her claws flex at her sides, the tendons in her neck straining as if she’s being pulled in two different directions. Then her body lowers into a crouch, every muscle coiling tight, with a mixture of intent and restraint—like she’s actively fighting to resist even as she prepares to strike.
And for a moment, she hesitates, her expression shifting, softening with a familiarity that makes your chest ache.
But it doesn’t last.
Something inside her finally snaps and she doesn’t hesitate this time, she lunges.
You stumble away from her with a startled gasp, your heel catching on an upturned root and throwing you off balance. But with nothing to grab onto to stabilize yourself, you fall backwards. You hit the ground hard, the back of your head slamming against something smooth but solid. A searing pain shoots up the back of your skull, and your vision swims.
You don’t have any time to recover before she’s on you.
Her body is a warm, solid weight that presses against your ribs, her claws grappling in the dirt on either side of your head. Another low growl erupts from deep within her chest, but she’s close enough now that you can feel the rumble of it. Her muscular thighs bracket your hips, pressing you into the cold, damp earth but your bodies align in such a way that ignites heat between your thighs.
This position is too familiar, too intimate. So when Abby’s mouth dips lower, her nose nudging against your jaw, you don’t hesitate to bare your throat to her. Her sharp fangs graze over your thundering pulse, and you tense—waiting to feel them tear through your soft flesh.
But it never comes.
The pressure of her teeth are suddenly gone but she doesn’t retreat, she hovers, her mouth mere inches from your throat. And when you turn to look at her, you realize her eyes are screwed shut, teeth clenched to the point of pain as she fights a battle waging inside her.
You don’t think when you reach out to carefully cradle her cheek. “Abby?”
Those golden eyes flash open to meet yours and she grabs your wrist, pinning it in the dirt above your head in a movement far too fast for you to be able to dodge. Then she’s leaning in again, her nose nudging against the fabric bunched at your shoulder—her jacket.
She stays like that for a heartbeat, just breathing you in.
Then the hand holding your wrist captive loosens and she reaches lower to grip onto the side of the jacket, like she’s trying to ground herself there. Your heart thuds erratically when she releases a soft, human sounding sigh before burying her nose deep into the collar. Something akin to hope flares inside your chest when she mumbles your name against your skin, the sound a distorted mixture between a whine and a growl.
“Yeah,” you breathe, releasing a small, choked sound when she affectionately nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “I’m right here, Abs.”
But the tender moment shatters as quickly as it came.
Abby tears herself away from you, retreating so quickly that you can’t tell which direction she went. You force yourself upright, a little too fast, as a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you. The back of your head throbs as everything blurs and tilts around you, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and take a few steadying breaths while you wait for the feeling to pass.
When the world slowly drifts back into focus, you’re already searching for her.
“Abby?” you call, rising unsteadily to your feet.
The edges of the clearing are bathed in shadow, but you don’t need to see her to feel the weight of her presence, lingering somewhere just beyond the tree line. You take a small step out of the center of the clearing, approaching the edge with slow, cautious strides. You strain your eyes as they scan through the darkness, only settling once you see a flash of gold between the trees.
Another warning growl cuts through the silence when you take a step into the shadows.
“Stay back,” Abby warns, her voice broken and raw—like she’s still getting used to speaking again.
But you ignore the warning, stepping closer. “You keep saying that.”
She releases a gruff noise that sounds oddly like a snort. “And yet, you still aren’t listening.”
You can see her silhouette now, tense and guarded as she watches you closely.
“I’m not afraid of you,” you murmur, taking another step closer.
“You should be.”
There’s no real bite behind her words, only fear and regret bleeding through.
But this time you don’t allow yourself to falter because you see her now—the Abby you fell in love with. The gentle, broken woman you held close when the nightmares kept her awake at night, who didn’t think she deserved any of the love you offered. She was still there, hidden beneath the sharp claws and thick layers of fur.
“It doesn’t matter,” you say simply.
“It doesn’t matter?!” She fumes, that dark edge creeping back into her voice. “It doesn't matter that I almost—”
“It doesn’t matter to me what you are!” you shout.
Your words land with the force of a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs.
“I love you, Abby,” you continue, quieter now as you step closer. “Nothing is going to change that.”
You can see the inner struggle she’s having, the way she starts to retreat with each step you take but she doesn’t stop until her shoulders press into the rough trunk of a tree. Her chest heaves, each breath sharp and uneven as she buries her claws so deep into the bark that it splinters—like she’s trying to anchor herself there.
When she says your name again, the warning in her voice starts to waver as you continue to close the distance between you. It’s a staggering, strange reversal of roles as the prey begins to advance on the predator, forcing Abby to face the very thing she’s been trying to protect you from: herself.
“Why didn’t you leave?” she whispers, the most human she’s sounded all night.
Your throat tightens. “Would you have left me?”
Abby doesn’t answer, but the look in her eyes says it all.
“I told you before, I’m not going anywhere.”
“What if I lose it again?”
“You’re still here,” you say, softer. “You stopped.”
“Barely,” she mutters through clenched teeth.
You reach up to gently cradle her jaw and the tension there loosens ever so slightly. A slow, shaky exhale follows, like she’s been holding it this entire time.
“You really should stay back,” she asserts weakly, leaning into your touch.
“I know,” you reply.
You both stay like that for a long moment, trying to familiarize yourselves with each other again. Her breathing has finally slowed, claws loosening their death grip on the trunk to hang at her sides. But they tremble, seemingly torn between wanting to reach out and touch you, but not fully trusting herself to do so yet.
So you make the decision for her, carefully guiding one of her clawed hands to rest against your hip, and her breathing stutters. You can feel the heat rolling off her in waves as you step further into her space and the wild look that flits across her features makes your blood pump faster, but this time it’s not from fear.
Abby inhales deeply, that hunger settling back into her golden eyes.
“I can hear your heart,” she mutters, voice still rough around the edges. “This is a bad idea.”
“Probably,” you hum.
But you don’t pull away, you press closer.
The first brush of your lips is hesitant, cautious in a way you haven’t had to be before. Abby is tense beneath your touch, but she doesn’t push you away—she holds you there. Your mouth hovers over hers, your breaths mingling together and you fight the urge to deepen the kiss, not wanting to push her too far.
“Still with me?” you ask softly.
And she answers by closing the distance with her mouth.
Her lips are warm and wet when they meet yours, her breath releasing in uneven huffs as she pulls you flush against her chest. The kiss is clumsy, but full of so much raw need that it makes your whole body tingle. Her sharp teeth catch on your lower lip, lightly pricking your skin and the metallic taste that fills your mouth pulls a needy whine from your throat. Abby’s responding groan quickly morphs into a low growl that vibrates through her chest, her grip tightening around your waist.
In one swift motion she spins you around, pinning you back against the trunk. The splintered bark bites through the jacket and scrapes against your skin but you welcome the sting. Her mouth is back on yours in an instant, hot and frantic like she’s pouring every ounce of her frustration and longing into the kiss. So you reel her in closer, your fingers sliding up into her hair out of pure instinct and you tug.
Her body suddenly goes rigid beneath your hands and she wrenches her mouth away with a deep growl.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt, attempting to step out of her embrace but her grip tightens on your waist.
“Don’t. Move.” Abby hisses, and this time you listen.
You become immobile in her arms, barely daring to breathe as she tries to regain some of her control back. She leans in with another low growl, her nose skimming along the collar of the jacket before she buries her face there, each labored breath warming your skin. And with each deep inhale you can feel her start to settle, her grip on your waist loosens, and she slowly lifts her head to meet your gaze.
“Guess I got a little carried away, huh?” you say.
You see the corner of her mouth twitch.
But beneath that raw and unbridled desire, you can see the fear still lingering in her golden eyes.
“Abby?” you breathe, and you feel her grip tighten on your waist.
“Don’t…” The word comes out as a partial growl. “You can’t say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want me, not…not like this.”
“What if I do?” you counter.
Abby releases a shuddered breath. “No,” she says through her teeth, every one of her muscles tensing. “It’s too dangerous. I could have killed you, I still could.”
You nod, features softening. “I know that, and I’m not saying tonight. But I do want you, Abby, in whatever way I’m still allowed to have you.”
She meets your gaze, uncertainty and longing lingering in her eyes. You slowly lift your hands toward her face, still cautious—giving her the opportunity to pull away.
“I trust you,” you murmur.
“I don’t.”
That admission fractures something deep within your chest.
But she doesn’t pull away, so you gently cup her cheeks between your palms. Her eyes flutter shut, her body leaning further into the comfort of your touch. You allow your fingers to carefully explore her sharpened features, sweeping across that familiar bump on the bridge of her nose, where she'd broken it many years ago. The freckles that fan out across her cheeks, and the faded scar above her left eye.
All the things that still make her yours.
A deep purr suddenly rumbles through her chest when your hands slip lower, threading your fingers through the soft fur at the nape of her neck. The sound has you gasping aloud, a rush of heat settling in the pit of your stomach. Her golden eyes flash back open, hungry and wild as she inhales deeply.
“You’re not making this very easy, you know.” Abby grunts, that familiar twinge of sarcasm lacing her tone.
You don’t offer her a reply, but simply lean in until your foreheads brush. You slide a hand back down her shoulders to her chest, where you can feel the frantic flutter of her heart beneath your palm.
“It’s not going to be easy,” you murmur. “But I’m not running away now.”
Time passes strangely after that, seconds that melt into minutes which blur into hours. Sleep doesn't come easy, or at all. You feel yourself drifting in and out, waking whenever her body goes rigid beside you, a low growl slipping past her lips like she’s unable to stop it.
And in those moments where she becomes restless, muscles tensing like the animal within is threatening to unleash itself—you somehow always bring her back to herself. A gentle hand on her shoulder, your fingers threading through her loose hair as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.
That’s where you stay the rest of the night, bodies tangled together at the base of an old maple tree.
When the first rays of dawn begin to break over the horizon is when you feel her body start to change. But it’s not a violent, brutal transition like before—it’s more like a release.
The tension leaves her shoulders, her tight grip on the jacket loosens as she fully comes back to herself.
And the forest itself breathes a sigh of relief.
“Hi,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep.
She hums softly in response, her breath tickling the exposed skin of your neck. The sound is so completely human and so entirely Abby that it makes your heart flutter.
“You okay?” she asks, lifting her head from your shoulder. “Your heart is racing.”
You can already feel the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “You can hear that?”
“Is that weird?” she asks, almost sheepishly.
“No, it’s just…new.”
She nods thoughtfully and leans her head back against the trunk of the tree, her eyes slipping shut—a pillar of stoicism.
“Are you really alright though?”
You can hear the question hidden beneath, and it makes your throat tight.
Did I hurt you?
The back of your head throbs in response, your lower lip still a little tender as you run your tongue over it.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you su—”
“Abigail,” you interrupt, resting a hand on her clothed thigh. “I said I’m fine.”
Her brows furrow as she glances down at you, her eyes searching your face. But as you meet her gaze, you notice the flecks of gold that now linger there, which contrast brightly against the deep cerulean of her irises. Her frown deepens when her eyes flick down to your mouth and she reaches for you, her thumb ghosting over the small slit in your lip.
“That was me.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
So you nod, unable to deny that fact.
Abby leans closer then, gently cupping the back of your neck to get a better look but you can’t hide the way you flinch away from her touch. She instantly pulls her hand back, noting the sticky flakes of blood that cling to her fingertips.
You see a plethora of emotions flit across her features then: horror, anger, disgust, regret.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and you can feel how she starts to pull away from you.
Not just physically but emotionally too. It’s the way her voice wavers, her eyes becoming distant and unfocused as her hands start to shake. But you won’t let her, not this time—not when you just got her back.
You move before she’s able to get too far, pushing her shoulders back against the trunk and swinging a leg over her thighs to settle onto her lap.
“No, you don’t get to do that.” you snap, your tone harsher than before. “You don’t get to pull away from me again. Not after everything we just went through.”
Abby looks taken aback by your sudden outburst, but the uncertainty and regret still linger in her wide eyes.
“Did I…” she trails off, unable to put those thoughts into words.
“No, you didn’t.”
Your answer seems to release some of the renewed tension in her shoulders.
“Can I?” she asks, motioning toward the back of your head. “I just…I need to make sure.”
You nod, scooting closer on her lap until there’s barely any space left between you. Her fingers are gentle as they slowly slide up the back of your neck, stopping their exploration when she feels a small bump near the base of your skull, the gash still sticky and swollen and you wince beneath her touch.
“I am so sorry,” she repeats and her hand lingers there, her thumb lightly ghosting over it as if she could take the pain away by sheer will alone. “The last thing I ever wanted was for you to get hurt.”
You lean in then, closing the distance and leaning your forehead against hers. Abby’s eyes squeeze shut, her muscles tensing but it’s not because she is afraid of losing herself again. But rather she’s trying to come to terms with how the monster she became last night is the same person who is allowed to hold you like this.
Her hands slide back down your neck to your shoulders, her eyes fluttering back open to meet yours. But Abby’s gaze suddenly drifts lower, landing on the patch that reads A. Anderson that’s sewn into the breast pocket of the jacket you’re wearing.
“Were you wearing this the whole night?” she asks.
You nod, a questioning look on your face.
“So that’s why,” she mumbles, so softly you almost miss it.
“What?” You ask, shifting slightly.
Abby’s fingers curl around the sleeve of the jacket and she lifts your wrist to her nose, inhaling deeply.
“There was so much…” She seems to be struggling to find the right word. “Noise, it made it almost impossible for me to recognize you.”
You can hear the guilt in her voice, and the way she won’t fully meet your eyes.
“And every time I thought I was going to…” she trails off, swallowing hard. “I smelled it on you.”
“Smelled what?”
Her eyes flick up to meet yours.
“Me.”
The weight of her words sink in, anchoring you both to the reality of what really happened last night. That the jacket that’s wrapped around you wasn’t just comfort, or instinct—it was a lifeline. A tether. Something that kept pulling her back each time she slipped too far beneath the current.
“It brought you back to me,” you murmur.
Something shifts then.
The heaviness of the night seems to lift all at once, taking all of the fear and uncertainty with it. The space between you suddenly feels smaller now, more intimate and Abby pulls you closer without warning, arms tightening as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.
“Uh, Abby?” you squeak, caught off guard.
“Hmm?” She hums, her warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.
“It’s uh—” you rasp, struggling to get a breath in as your chest tightens. “A little hard to breathe.”
She tenses for a moment, then immediately loosens her hold.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Abby pulls back far enough to look at you and rests her hands on your hips, her touch suddenly a lot more hesitant than before. “Did I hurt you?”
You shake your head, releasing a small breathy laugh. “No, just give a girl a little warning next time.”
“Right,” she mumbles, her thumbs absentmindedly drawing small circles against your hips.
You shift in her lap, opening your mouth to speak again when your eyes flick lower and—
Oh.
A small smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth.
“You know…” you drawl, slow and casual. “I’m definitely not complaining, but I, uh, think you’re missing a little something.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—”
Abby follows your gaze and curses under her breath.
You can’t stop the giggle that bursts from your chest when her cheeks instantly flush and she quickly crosses an arm over herself in an attempt to cover her bare breasts.
“Oh come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen them before,” you tease, with a slight wiggle of your brows.
“God, you’re such a perv,” she mutters fondly, giving your side a gentle squeeze.
“What? Can you really blame me?”
Abby huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she tries to feign annoyance but the way her eyes have softened gives her away. She pulls you an inch closer, the heat of her body a grounding reminder that she’s really here with you. That she chose to stay.
“I probably wouldn’t be much better,” she says thoughtfully, glancing back over her shoulder for a moment. “But you know, I really did like that shirt.”
When she turns back to you, the slight pout on her lips has another giggle slipping past your own. A gentle breeze slips through the trees just then, carrying the sound of your laughter and blowing some of her hair across her face. But her pout only deepens and you beam at her, reaching up to tuck those loose strands back behind her ear.
“Hey, do you know how hard it is to find decent clothes around here? Between your thievery,” she pauses, playfully tugging at the hem of her jacket. “And now this, I’m not going to have any left.”
You roll your eyes, still smiling as you slip off the jacket. “Alright, alright, come here you goober.”
You carefully slide the jacket over her shoulders, your fingers brushing along skin that’s still too warm. Her muscles tense for a moment before they begin to ease under your gentle guidance, and you feel her truly surrender to your touch.
It’s a quiet sort of trust—the way she lets you handle her, to see her vulnerability, and how she allows you to bridge the distance she fought so hard to maintain. Abby isn't just letting you put the jacket on, she’s letting you back in. Your hands linger a little longer than necessary as you adjust the collar, smoothing the fabric over her arms before they settle at the zipper.
You glance up to find her already watching you, her eyes holding such intensity and reverence that it feels like she’s stripping you bare. But you hold her gaze as you slowly drag the zipper up, the soft, familiar sound filling the space between you. Her breath hitches when your knuckles accidentally graze the underside of her breast and a different kind of hunger darkens her eyes.
“Better?” you ask softly.
Abby doesn’t answer right away.
Instead she leans in, cradling your jaw and kisses you.
Only this time when she presses her mouth to yours, it’s all familiar, no sharp teeth or urgency. Just the desire to feel, to be close.
“Still with me?” she asks, leaning her forehead against yours.
warnings and disclaimers, (enemies to lovers), porn w plot (yay), a word count of 15k+?!, wlw content, mean!abby, jealous/delusional!abby, mentions of reader’s hair, abby being a book wormy, abby describes the reader as a goddess (once), fluff, angst, different povs, bullying, light workplace mistreatment, SEXUAL CONTENT, mean/softdom!abby, sub!reader, semi-public sex (hospital’s office), panties stealing, spanking, cunnilingus, fingering, hair pulling, masturbation, usage of a vibrator (once), scissoring, squirting, nipple play, degradation, body workship/praising, overstimulation, usage of pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, good girl, dirty girl), cum eating, mutiple orgasms, DARK CONTENT, stalking, act of stealing narcotics, cursing, jealousy, alcohol/drug consumption, mentions of inflicting harm on others, acts of frame-up.
TAPE THAT MOUTH SHUT, this is probably one of the biggest/questionable pieces of art i’ve done. though it’s FINALLY fucking done idk how to feel honestly. i just feel like i have such an emotional bind to each and every piece of work i have done. this is my baby, the full nine months and everything, and now the world will see her for her. i feel like a mother watching her baby go off to kindergarten. :”(
ONESHOT PREVIEW | ABBY ANDERSON’S MASTERLIST
PRESENT TIME
saints mary’s hospital - 2:30 am on a saturday morning
the saying goes, “it’s not about how you start, it’s how you finish.” didn’t quite apply. time seemed to move in a blur, making it impossible to piece together a coherent thought. the room filled only with the echoes of your loud, wanton sounds mingling with abby’s, far removed from anything deemed professional. however you weren't concerned with those details, not at all. with the way abby was able to extract those sounds from your throat was almost painful.
almost.
abby derived an addiction from your pleasure. each moment of ecstasy seemed to fuel her further, driving her to amplify the tempo and depth of her ministrations. as the room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh meeting flesh and intertwined heavy breaths, something stirred within abby. something unfamiliar, uncharted. normally, she would exhibit unrivaled confidence during intimate encounters, but with you, it was different—more intense, deeper. a desperate craving to be perfect, to ensure you'd never seek anyone else, but her. she’d hate to admit it, but the realization gnaws at her: the longing for you even after this is over.
"who's making you cum tonight?" abby questioned the obvious, but her arrogance tone underlined the strong need for reassurance. your moans were her only response, and while she adored the sweet sounds, she craved more. a sudden shift in her fingers’ movements made you yell out, "you, abby.” your words punctuated by cries of pleasure.
abby's fingers, now confined within your tight grip, sensed the growing tension, the impending eruption, the imminent of your orgasm. "uh-huh, come for me," she ordered, "let me hear who’s making a mess of you."
the warnings of your impending release came with fervor, each thrust hastening to the inevitable snap of the tightening band in your abdomen. then when it did, a cry rang out, loud and clear, as her name left your lips in tandem with your essence painting her features. in this haze of euphoria, you suddenly find a sense of clarity, wondering how in all worlds did you end up in this situation, in the arms— or rather the mouth of your boss?
MONTHS BEFORE
saints mary’s hospital - 3:20 am on a monday night
the staff room was still mostly quiet, the faint sounds of a few muttered conversations and the soft hum of the fluorescent bulb created a low hum of background noise to complement the bigger situation in hand. you had just finished discarding your dirty gloves and discovered that some residue had clung to your uniform, prompting a soft groan of disgust to escape your lips.
you picked up another clean uniform and quickly changed into it, your mind wandering to the series of events that led you to this moment. working in a hospital meant dealing with a never-ending slew of new problems each day, some imprinting themselves in your memory more vividly than others.
and this time was memorable—at least for the night —for an aggravating sense. it was a vomiting incident in room nine that not only you witnessed, but you were also permitted to clean up after. fun, you thought sarcastically as you trudged your way with a bucket and sponge. nonetheless here you were, the aftermath, running a hand through your uniform to smooth out any wrinkles with your other hand on the doorknob, taking a long, exasperated intake prior to stepping out.
with a final exhale, you turned the knob and stepped out into the main hospital ward. the familiar sounds of hushed conversations and the constant hum of machinery filled your ears as you walked through the hallways.
with your desk in your line of sight now, your body starts to move faster as the thought of getting some much needed rest sets in. despite that, you took a quick glance around, searching for her presence, but finding no resemblance.
a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you settled into the plush chair, the cushions embracing your tired body. hands squeezing the pads provided on the arm’s office chair, this was heaven. but satan herself wouldn’t let that alleviation last for long, she never does. not in this hospital. your body suddenly tensed up and jerked forward as the sound of a hand slamming into the surface of your desk reached your ears. fuck, you thought, your head automatically turning to see the horned asshole with the little tail stuck up her ass.
“what the fuck was that back there, huh? i’ve had people complaining left and right.” she spoke, her face contorted with anger. you knew that was a lie, only there to further embarrass you in front of everyone. the “great” abby anderson was known to make something bigger than it actually was. but you’d be lying if you didn’t say that disruption left you breathless, seemed like all and any explanation that could clear your name left you, but even if you did, would it even work? or would abby deem it as a barely acceptable excuse, or quote “a three year old can lie better than you” excuse?
you could hardly breathe, your mind racing to try to explain yourself. every mistake seemed to be met with harsh criticism, and it was taking its toll on you. your voice wavered as you stuttered out a singular word in response: “what?”
abby’s expression only hardened further, her voice mocking your supposed ignorance. “couldn’t you see the medication you gave her was gonna result in nausea?”
each word was enunciated with sharp frustration, as if you were supposed to have known better, but you didn’t know. it wasn’t stated on the patient's file that she’d react like that. you followed protocol, knowing the consequences if you didn't, and followed through based on the information in hand. you weren’t in the wrong, and you explained that to abby.
though she didn’t seem to care at all, instead her words echoed through your mind like a painful reminder; you keep it up, and you’ll end up on your ass in front of this hospital.
her threat sent a pang of dread through you, and the loud thud of her office door shutting only added to your sinking feeling. you let out a heavy sigh, bringing your hand up to your eyes and rubbing them, trying to ward off the exhaustion and anxiety swirling within you.
your thoughts were interrupted as you realized the truth behind abby’s threat. you had a proven record as a dedicated and skilled employee, and deep down, you knew abby knew it too. there was a reason she couldn’t just fire you on a whim —she needed a valid justification to complete that pesky employee termination form sitting on her desk.
as you pondered on these thoughts, you let out a resigned sigh, the threat suddenly feeling less intimidating and more like a broken record you heard over and over again.
FIVE DAYS LATER
saints mary’s hospital - 11:01 pm on a saturday night
there was a newfound sense of comfort that accompanied your realization. although abby’s words still stung and cut deeply, you now had a silent reassurance— a knowledge that her threats were ultimately empty, that mere words could do nothing. your mind was now at ease, knowing that despite her harshness, she couldn’t truly harm you. the thought gave you a strange sense of power, even as she spewed her usual cruelty.
with your profound resilience, you found yourself feeling more lively and vibrant than before. you no longer fretted over every small mistake or worry constantly about doing your job wrong. your once reserved and introverted self now blossomed, making connections and building friendships where there had been none before.
amelia, the colleague who sat beside you for a year, but whom you had never truly spoken to, was now a friend, and the two of you formed a bond beyond just work-related interaction.
“darling, it’s wishful thinking that the inferno herself would let you off so easily,” amelia teases, the soft pads of her fingertips dancing along the keys of her keyboard. her familiar british accent rolls off and into your ear, making you scoff.
“it’s just for a day.” you mumble, your hands flipping the page to the never-ending paperwork waiting for you. you stop and look at amelia who’s now reclined in her chair, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.
“oh love,” laughed amelia, her playful jab at your wishful thinking only making her more endearing. “i’d love to entertain your rather ludicrous idea, but in doing so would be criminal!”
her words stung a little, you knew she was right, but hearing her say it out loud had you clenching your jaw slightly. abby would never agree to letting you take a day off from the hospital, it seemed like the whole place would fall apart without your presence.
and while it felt like an honor— at times. you longed for just one day off, a single day to rest amongst the countless days spent diligently working at the hospital. how criminal could that be? as amelia called it, you felt your shoulders sag and nodding quietly in resignation. your features must have betrayed your disappointment, as amelia swiftly noticed and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.
amelia smiled sympathetically, her eyes soft as she saw your frustration. “cheer up, darling. it was just a quip.” she said softly, her tone filled with comfort.
you tried to hold back your tears when you spoke, your voice faltering as you looked up at amelia. “It's not that. i just… work my ass off, and don't even get the recognition i deserve.” your words trailed off as you let out a frustrated sigh. “and it's not like i’m just looking for that.” you pause to mend the right words together. “just some sort of break from it all.” you quickly sniffle, attempting to hide the tears that had escaped from your eyes during your confession. your embarrassment was evident as you turned away, trying to compose yourself. “god, i’m sorry for this.” you sighed heavily, reaching for a tissue to wipe away your tears.
amelia pats your shoulder, her voice filled with understanding. “no, no, i get it, darling. you need a break as much as anyone does in this bloody facility. perhaps more than hamburger-munching samson over there.” she quips, referring to a less than efficient employee.
you let out a tearful laugh, your grin still tinged with sadness. “yeah.” you agreed, your voice heavy with resignation.
amelia smiled warmly at your smile, her hand giving your thigh a comforting pat. “go ask her, and if she doesn't oblige, tell her i'll cover for you.”
her sweet words of offering to cover for you had you fighting back tears again, determined to not further burden her with your crying, and managed to let out a shaky chuckle.
you try to protest, feeling a pang of guilt for potentially inconveniencing her. “you don't have to do that.” you say softly.
however, amelia is resolute, dismissing your objections with a firm, yet gentle push. “no darling,” she replies firmly. “i don’t, but i want to. now go on.” her insistence is unwavering, and you can see that she will not take no for an answer.
with a resigned sigh of “okay”, you straighten your shoulders and approach the entrance to abby's office. a quick glance back at amelia sees her raising her thumbs in a gesture of encouragement to go ahead. you return a grateful smile before turning back around and lifting your hand to knock on the door. but before your knuckles make contact, the door swings open, revealing abby.
you freeze in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of abby before you even had the chance to knock on the door. you realize you must look like a fool, standing there frozen with your arm raised in the air. feeling a sudden pang of self-consciousness, you quickly lower your arm and bring your other hand up to cup it gently, almost as if you could somehow conceal your awkward position.
abby’s smile catches you off guard, surprised to see her display such genuine happiness at your surprised arrival. "oh—there you are.” she says.
you stand there, slightly confused by her unexpected demeanor. her next words, spoken calmly, further perplexed you: "come in." this gentle tone is unfamiliar coming from her, as she's never used it with you before, reserving it only for the presence of supervisors.
she leaves the door open for you, a silence gesture for you to enter before taking her seat at her desk. "i was going to call for you, but it seems like you heard my call telepathically." she quips, chuckling at her own joke.
you internally scoff at her stupid joke, quietly shutting the door behind you as you enter her office. "well, don't just stand there, sit." she instructs, her smile still uncharacteristically cheerful— almost eerie. you can't help but wonder if this is all just an act, a facade that will undoubtedly crack like it always does, given abby's fiery nature. however, you comply silently, watching her sift through documents on her desk.
you struggled to keep yourself from asking what she was searching for after you caught a glimpse of it being the employee files. your heart began to race as an oppressive silence enveloped the room, fueling your nerves. was she looking for your file? was this gonna be the moment when she’d reveal the anticipated reason to use on that dreaded employee termination form? your mind swarmed with questions, each more pressing than the last. how much more can you deal with this suspense looming over your shoulder like the grim reaper.
you attempt to speak in a firm tone, but your voice betrays you, wavering at the edges. “why are you so happy?” your own curiosity battling with a sense of reluctance to hear the answer.
“and why are you so gloomy?” she taunts with a smirk, chuckling. “put a smile on that face for me, yeah? you’re gonna do me a big favor.” she admits, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she mentions the word “favor.” finally finding the paper she had been searching for, she slid it across her desk in your direction. the paper contains the resume of someone you’re unfamiliar with, and your curiosity piqued.
"this is cassidy mcclair," she pauses. "and you'll be her mentor for the week. she's the new replacement nurse after what happened to poor old sadie." a pang of irritation stabs at you as abby uses a condescending tone when mentioning sadie. her untimely demise still weighed heavily on your mind.
you inadvertently let out a scoff as you cross your arms, immediately regretting the impulsive action. abby glances up at you, arching her eyebrow before speaking.
"is there a problem?" her question rhetorical, signaling her indifference to your potential objection. however, you're determined to express your feelings, regardless if rhetorical or not. you werent gonna give some half-ass smile and nod. after all, it wouldn’t be the first time your opinionated mind got you into trouble, as abby so often reminded you.
you respond with a defiant tone, your words clearly expressing your dissatisfaction. “yeah, there is actually.” you retort, your arms remaining defiantly crossed. “you’re supposed to do this. not me.”
abby chuckles at your boldness, her expression growing serious as she responds, “that was rhetorical, surely anyone with a hint of common sense would catch on. frankly, i don’t give a fuck if it is.” she dismisses your argument, beginning to organize the documents on her desk, grabbing the paper in front of you without sparing an eye, her attention now focused elsewhere. despite your differences, you remain silent, yet seething within at her dismissive response.
“be here at eight pm sharp on monday.” she adds, ending the conversation on her terms.
so much for a day off..
AN HOUR AFTER
hospital’s break room - 1:17 am on a sunday morning
after your unsolicited meeting with abby, your emotions were overflowing and the need to confide in someone was at an all time high. though the term 'confide' may be a stretch, considering you practically unloaded your frustrations to the mere mention of "hey, heard you had a meeting with the boss?"
“she didn’t even let me speak, once!” you exclaim, frustration seeping through each and every word, punctuating your sentence with lifting your pointed finger.
talia responds with a sympathetic tone, saying, “she tends to do that..” her words trail off, and you can almost feel the strain in her voice, knowing that she’s the unsuspecting recipient of your pent-up frustrations.
“right! god, she’s so fucking…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe her. “infuriating!” you say louder than anticipated.
she looks up from the coffee maker, surprise etched on her face as other heads turn towards you, startled by your outburst. you sheepishly mutter an apology before letting out a dejected sigh. trying to lighten the mood, you force a smile and lean against the counter. "so, have you had to do any of abby's dirty work too?" you quirk an eyebrow.
the long haired girl chuckles at your antics, her gaze fixated on the coffee maker as it slowly fills her cup with the dark, yet energizing substance. she turns her attention back to you, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "yeah, actually.” she replies, her voice filled with good-natured sass. "but she made the task sound much kinder when she assigned it." she jested.
you jokingly say, "oh, fuck you," to which she responds with a playful eyeroll, but then curiosity takes over. "but really?" you ask curiously. "how'd it go?"
a dreaded sigh escapes talia’s lips as she recounts her memories of being assigned to mentor a new employee. the mirth vanishes from your expression as she begins to share her experience, the once lighthearted atmosphere replaced by a sense of foreboding.
“oh, terrible," talia responds through the sigh, her laugh edged with strain before looking back at the coffee maker, which is about a quarter away from being done. "sometimes, i wondered what would be inside her head if i were to cut it open. a brain made out of putty, or no brain at all?" her words make you wince as you begin to imagine what your own experience might be like. the idea of being a mentor to a complete idiot was less than appealing.
talia takes notice of your nervousness and quickly tries to reassure you, saying, "but i assure you, your experience won't be like mine." she offers a nervous smile, hoping to alleviate your concerns.
you respond with an uneasy chuckle and a reluctant "yeah.” not truly convinced by her reassurance. you know that only time will tell if her words will hold true, and so you find yourself resigned to the fact that you'll have to impatiently wait until monday to find out.
THREE DAYS LATER
your home - 6:03 am on a monday morning
the incessant blaring of your alarm felt like background noise for the past three minutes, though you've been wide awake for about ten minutes prior to its start. last night, sleep eluded you, as anxiety and exhaustion plagued your thoughts. you had hoped that your previous activities on your day off would tire you and help you sleep, but unfortunately, that was not the case. you had laid awake for an extra hour, struggling until sleep finally took over.
your anxiety, semi-dissociative state can be attributed to your "big day" ahead, as abby had nicknamed it. the thought of the unknown had you sweating bullets. not to mention, your boss’s words that stayed with you like crazy glue, stubbornly stuck in your mind. with reluctance, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom.
as you turn on the faucet, the soft meows of your kitty-cat, charles, reach your ears. your face lights up with a smile as you turn and spot him. you kneel down, showering him with a few gentle pets as he responds with a pleased purr. "hey, buddy," you whisper, planting a kiss on his head. you then stand up to check the water temperature, only to huff in frustration when it doesn't meet your desired level. turning to the kitty by your side, you murmur, "i know, bud. lemme feed you while i wait for the water."
the kitty yowls eagerly and paws at your legs, anticipating its food. you repeatedly tap the can's bottom against the bowl until the food finally falls free, landing on the plate. the cat's excitement escalates as it watches you kneel down to place the plate on the ground. chuckling, you observe the kitty pounce on the food as soon as it touches the ground.
“eat up, spud.” you give your feline friend one last pat before walking away to the bathroom. you undress and check the water's temperature once more, finding it to your liking. with a satisfied nod, you step inside, letting the hot water wash over you and momentarily rinse away your worries for today.
AN HOUR AND HALF LATER-ISH
saints mary’s hospital - 7:28 am
what was meant to be a calming shower had obliterated your sense of time, leaving you in a scrambling to finish your morning routine. with a start, you realize it was nearly seven-thirty, and sprung into action, throwing your clothes on at an almost superhuman speed. you had never dried your hair this quick before in your entire life. yes, abby had mentioned to be there at eight, but you knew that translated to "be there before eight."
you arrive at the hospital just before eight, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, knowing all too well that you wouldn't make it through the day without it. you quickly exit the elevator, stepping into the lobby to find abby engaged in conversation with a red-haired woman.
the ginger had her hair braided, resembling abby's but with more volume. her fair complexion was adorned with freckles, resembling a sky full of stars. like many others on this floor, she wore a blues-and-white uniform, with a small cat pin attached to her shirt pocket. her colorful keys hung around her neck, and her radiant smile oozed an infectious energy, effortlessly drawing a reciprocating smile from you as you approached.
your smile momentarily falters as you overhear abby's sarcastic, yet condescending tone. “oh, there's the princess!" she exclaims, closing the distance to you with the woman following suit behind. this must’ve been the woman abby was talking about, leaving you feeling increasingly anxious, your eyes locked on the girl behind her. however, abby manages to draw your focus as she speaks up.
“this is cassidy. the one i told you about the last time we spoke.” she says firmly, bringing her hand up to her shoulder and beckons her toward you.
“hi.” you say shyly.
cassidy reciprocates the greeting with a wave, her expression a mix of nervousness and surprise. however, before she can respond, abby cuts in, with a tone of sarcasm. “i trust you won't be as late as our little princess here was," she says, referring to you, causing cassidy to nervously laugh and answer with a tentative "no."
your frustration peaked as you clenched your fists, your anger evident. It was clear what abby was trying to do once again, to twist the truth and make you appear worse than you actually are. she smirked, seemingly enjoying your irritation, before patting cassidy on the shoulder and wishing her good luck.
with the condescending smirk, abby leaned in to whisper in your ear, her tone different, dripping with sarcasm. "good luck, princess." and with that, she walked away, leaving you to face the challenge ahead.
"cunt," you silently say to yourself in annoyance, sending a glare at abby's retreating form. after a moment, you plaster on a forced smile and turn your attention to the ginger girl in front of you. you extend a hand and saying, “hi, i’m y/n."
"hi, i’m cassidy, but you already know that," she laughs, taking your hand in hers and shaking it firmly. after releasing her grip, she absentmindedly begins to stroke her braid with the same hand, a subtle fidget that seems to be her go-to anxiety coping mechanism.
you smile, genuinely impressed by her hair color. “yeah, i love the color of your hair, by the way. it's beautiful.” a hint of bashfulness washes over cassidy's cheeks as she responds, "thank you, it's my natural hair."
you let out a soft "cute..." as your eyes dart over her vibrant locks before gathering your thoughts. "well, let's get to work," you sigh, beginning to walk over to your desk. cassidy quickly follows, and upon reaching your desk, you set down your things and greet amelia with a friendly smile. you then turn your attention back to cassidy, clipboard clutched in your hand.
“alright, just follow me this way.” you lead cassidy through the hospital floor, providing her with a tour of the different departments. while the tour starts off awkwardly, you and cassidy manage to strike up some small talk. despite her quiet demeanor, she proves to be a hard worker, efficiently tending to her tasks. you can relate to her reserved nature, knowing firsthand how it feels to be somewhat introverted.
FEW HOURS LATER
hospital’s break room - 12:40 pm on a monday afternoon
after having cassidy follow you around like a lost puppy, occasionally taking notes on her little cat shaped notepad when needed. you both sat in a corner, eating in comfort silence. amongst the normality, you couldn’t help but notice her lunchbox also in a cat-like shape. a soft chuckle escaped you, causing cassidy to look up from her food, her chewing briefly stopped to ask, “what?”
you point out the box which promptly makes her look down, mouthing “oh.” cassidy chuckles nervously, her cheeks tinted with a hint of embarrassment. "i suppose i’m a cliché," she admits, her smile widening. "it’s no secret now that i enjoy girly things.”
you nod, a smile playing at the corners of your lips in response. "i think it's cute." you utter with a slight smirk.
cassidy grins, a hint of self-consciousness in her expression. "you don't think it's too silly?" she asks, seeking validation.
"nope," you reply sincerely, “everyone has their own interests. who am i to judge?" you shrug, emphasizing the point.
cassidy chuckles again, playfully teasing you with her next words. "i'd beg to differ." she pauses for a moment, before continuing, "dr. anderson seems to be quite interested in you." her tone implies a hint of a tease, suggesting that abby's fondness for you may be noticeable to the people around you.
as soon as cassidy suggests that abby has a soft spot for you, you sputter and cough, practically choking on your food. between gasping breaths, you manage to exclaim, "what?! you definitely need your eyes checked!"
cassidy's eyes widen with concern, and she begins to pat your back to help you through your coughing fit. after regaining your composure, you nod, trying to play it cool as she asks if you’re alright. your voice is still strained when you speak, "i’m fine, but what makes you say something like that?" you ask, completely bewildered.
once she's assured that you're okay, cassidy begins to chuckle lightly and leans back in her chair, arms crossed in a confident stance as if she solved the equation pi in her one sitting. "i’ve seen the way she talks to you," she says, low and soft, smirking.
“yeah, she talks like she has a stick up her ass.”
your blunt comment about abby having a "stick up her ass" makes cassidy erupt into laughter. "yeah, that's—that’s definitely true," she concedes, still giggling, "but there's also… a passion behind it." she pauses before continuing. “It's like she does it out of love or something," her eyes fixed on you.
you let out an amused sigh and roll your eyes, responding with a playful retort, "yeahh, I don't know about that." you can't help but chuckle as you continue, "but, that’s definitely crazy talk." you tease, a hint of mirth in your voice.
cassidy laughs, feigning surrender by holding her hands up in a playful gesture. "hey," she says, a toothy grin plastered on her face, "i know what i'm seeing." she retorts.
you continue to eat, a scoff escaping your lips as you try to dismiss her earlier accusations. "you saw a bunch of nothing.” you remark, keeping your tone nonchalant. cassidy responds with a soft scoff of her own, but the silence that follows is strained, uncomfortable, well at least for you… you think.
your mind drifts back to all the times you've interacted with abby, a strange feeling beginning to grow inside you. there were no signs, no hint of anything more than anger and hatred, right? no itty bitty details so unmissable to others, but you? no, it couldn’t be, that’d be ridiculous, hell, every it'd be a synonym in the book ridiculous! there were never any crossovers besides hatred, a mysterious hatred, but hatred nonetheless. come to think of it, you never really found out why she hated you so goddamn much. was it envy? fear? if so, of what exactly?
whatever the case was, it doesn't matter. because you would fucking pay to see her at your mercy. beneath you with a look of hopelessness glistening in her eyes, for it to be her to struggle to utter a simple explanation, only for you to completely demolish the right of speaking. to watch that stupidly neat braid disheveled and her oh so infuriatingly muscular arms that seemed to taunt you, begging to be popped like a balloon.
yeah… you definitely hated this woman.
SIX MONTHS LATER
front desk - 1:30 pm on a wednesday afternoon
gathering any loose strands of hairs from the nape of your neck with one hand, you create a makeshift ponytail, struggling to keep a straight face as cassidy’s stifled laughter resonates nearby. you playfully chastise her, trying to suppress your own laughter.
“stop laughing,” you admonish, your attempt at a stern tone is undermined by your own stifled giggles. “you’re gonna get us caught!”
as luck would have it, you and cassidy had bonded over an unexpected shared interest— a love for plants. and they say that a mother’s life is over when they have kids. quite literal bullshit if you ask anyone with a brain. cassidy, besides being nature’s supporter, was also incredibly humorous, her wit and humor made work a little more bearable.
over a few rounds of cold beers, she had discovered abby’s mysterious hatred for you. her curiosity knew no bounds, weaving theories on why, but never truly connecting the dots. from that point on, she couldn't resist teasing abby when she erupted into her typical outbursts—episodes she jokingly dubbed "hissy fits." just a few weeks ago, she had been assigned to work the counter beside you after amelia went on maternity leave.
"check this one out," the red-head chimes, tilting her phone towards eyes’s view to reveal a piece of media from abby’s instagram. cassidy, as if being a FBI agent was her second job, didn’t break a sweat looking for abby’s entire life online the moment it was plausible.
now, knowing who to call, you glance to see a photo of the blonde with her usual serious expression. the framing itself is taken from an awkward angle. “she’s so stiff, like a damn statue.” she laughs.
you let your hands fall once successfully securing your hair in a bun, a chuckle escaping your lips. "not a bad-looking statue, though," you remark casually, shrugging your shoulders. a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you added, "maybe she should start a new career as a model. the 'stiff but stunning' look could be all the rage."
cassidy quirks an eyebrow your way, a mischievous gleam in her eye as she teases you, “oh, am i sensing something here?”
you respond with a scoff, hastily denying any such notion with playful push. “god, no!” you exclaim, feigning offense, your laugh mingling with her own.
amidst the laughter, your moment is abruptly interrupted by the overwhelming waft of a potent perfume that assaults your senses. immediately, you recognize the scent and dart your gaze towards its source—abby’s new assistant. wearing a top brazenly too small for her ample cleavage with an extravagant makeup job tailored for a circus clown, it's painfully obvious whom this performance is intended to impress.
fucking ‘asshole’ anderson. It’s a pity really; she’s a decent-looking girl, but a relentless ass-kisser. everyone in the hospital picked up on her antics pretty quickly, constantly trying to win abby’s favor. rumors speculated, suggesting they did more than just work together, but hey, they’re just rumors.
“you should be working, abby wouldn’t like this.” her grating voice rings out, dripping with unwarranted confidence.
“we’re on our break, alexa.” you reply coolly, not bothering to mask the distaste in your expression.
she theatrically glances at her watch and purses her lips, stating smugly, “not anymore.” her gaze flicks to you, a smirk playing at her lips. it takes every ounce of restraint you possess not to grab her by the hair and slam her head against the wall. instead, you listen as she adds, "i should be informing abby about this,” she emphasizes with her hand, going in a circular motion towards you and cassidy before finishing. “but she's requested your presence in her office right now."
you stare at her, bewilderment etched across your face. abby? needing you in her presence? the confusion can’t linger long when she impatiently snaps her fingers.
"chop, chop, she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” she prompts, her tone dripping with condescension.
fucking bitch.
"you said you needed me?" you inquired, poking your head through the door’s open crack.
"yes, shut the door and take a seat." she affirms, witnessing firsthand the intentitive— almost obsessive behavior driven by a need to be perfection itself. her eyes don’t move from the paperwork at hand, but there’s no need for her body language and demeanor is a revelation on its own.
her stoicism matched almost flawlessly, as if they had been meticulously practiced in the mirror—akin to a morning ritual, like a cup of coffee. and her physique? it’s a memoir to resolution, sculpted from the divine hands of a deity, making you wonder: how could a person be so flawless? is she a forsaken angel, once god's favorite, now cast away from grace?
her voice, now with a hint of a crisp clear edge, breaks the silence, stating firmly, "i need to discuss something with you." her arms are now visible, resting on top of her desk, hands neatly folded together, an action that seizes your attention like a magnet. was this beautiful “angel” of a woman merely toying with you, masquerading as a jester with deceptive tricks?
nervously, you lick your dry lips and nod, responding with a strained voice, "yeah?" she picked up on that.
her eyes narrow with curiosity, and she leans forward, her voice laced with suspicion as she queries, “tell me,” she begins, letting the question linger in the air for a moment. “why do you still waste time with cassidy?” her tone carries a note of mild disdain. “she’s a bit.. odd, don’t you think?”
within the span of a moment, a wave of frustration surges through you, compelling you to argue your case. however, you find yourself inexplicably entranced by her features, unable to break the spell that has woven its way around your thoughts. nodding without conscious thought, your gaze is transfixed on the magnificence standing before you— the artistry of her face and form.
the sun's warm glow streams through the windows just behind her, casting a radiant light upon her as if nature itself were emphasizing its own masterpiece. every detail of her appearance is meticulously crafted, like a tempting apple dangling in front of the unsuspecting. a loose strand of hair falls gracefully in front of her face, accentuating the fine features of her facial structure. the angular lines of her nose seem to carry the weight of her sharp-edged spectacles, and her eyes, often lacking warmth, rarely seek solace in anything but themselves.
the sinew, a testament to the muscularity of her arms, even beneath the loose confines of her doctor’s coat, as if they were destined to stand out, to be admired. the way she held her pen moments ago makes it seem almost insignificant in comparison to her thick fingers, wrapped around it like a vice. her penmanship is impeccable, smooth and faultless, as if her hand is a perfectly calibrated machine.
god’s greatest gifts bestowed on its worst creation alive.
"are you even listening to me, right now?" she questions, her jaw setting tight.
startled, you snapped out of your reverie, blinking to moisten the dry eyes that had forgotten to blink in their fixated state, you confirm. “yes.” no.
“i asked you a question.” she snaps, her voice stern.
“what was the question?” you stammer, feeling flustered under her intense scrutiny.
“why—forget it.” a sudden shift in her expression indicates a change of mind. it seems the words didn’t sound as smart when she voiced them aloud.
“what?” you stutter, leaning forward in your chair. “what were you going to say?”
“i said, nevermind,” she replies, her tone firm and dismissive. “you’re free to go.” she averts her gaze from you, redirecting it towards her paperwork, as if you had suddenly become unimportant and unworthy of her attention.
you’re left dumbfounded, what was that about?
FEW HOURS LATER
your bedroom - 3:20 am on a thursday morning
your sharp gasp and the tension in your body were palpable, confined to the bed where your body lay cushioned. a hand ran through your hair before tugging it tightly, adding to the pleasure that coursed through you. the serene hum of your vibrator, nestled between your legs, was a poor substitute for the fantasies that danced through your mind.
your guilty pleasures, your secret desire.
“oh, abby!” you moaned, the broken syllable laced with longing. images of her flashed through your mind, your body yearning for the warmth of her fingers instead of the cold, mechanical pleasure your toy provided. the thought of being stretched by her strong, capable hands was all it took to push you over the edge.
a wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your body shaking as you orgasmed, the fantasy of abby's touch more potent than the reality. the intensity of your pleasure left you breathless, even as you knew it was only a fleeting escape from reality.
as your mind snaps back, an overwhelming rush of realization washes over you. you toss aside the vibrator, sitting up with a sigh. you can’t help, but feel shame towards yourself. the thought of your boss—the one person who makes your life a living hell—occupies your thoughts. how could you even entertain the thought of her?
a fallen angel, huh?
SAID “FALLEN ANGEL”
abby anderson
she was fucking on one today, and in return she thought you were too. her mind was consumed by you. even the morning coffee, always a comfort, tasted bitter and cold. she didn't even acknowledge the usual flirtatious advances from her assistant when she greeted her this morning. instead, she simply asked for her requested files and retreated to the sanctuary of her office, locking the door behind her.
it was always you, stirring up trouble by merely existing near her. cassidy mcclair, that braid-wearing copycat bitch, had you wrapped around her serpentine fingers. and you? you should have known better than to waste your precious time with people like that, but there you were. in fact, compared to these idiots you had to call coworkers, you were leaps and bounds above them.
you were just making a mistake, a mistake that was costing her sleep— more than she already doesn’t get.
she silently fumed as she stood in front of her office door for her daily check on what everyone was doing, over the years making mental lists of the flaws of each employee. amelia, didn’t know if she was bleating or laughing, and those killer front teeth— literally. one glance and someone’s head would be off. then there was samson, who seemed to do nothing, but shove burgers down his gargantuan throat. she was convinced he never even bothered to chew.
it was laughable, and she could go on and on about the flaws each one of her employees had. but you, well, not a single flaw could be attributed to you. not one mentioned on any list of the many she had. in essence, you were the embodiment of a boss's dream employee—quick on the case, a good sport, but until now, there was one flaw that had eluded you: the habits of hanging around the wrong people.
granted, it's not like cassidy was forcing drugs down your throat, but it was clear she was trouble. competition, that had to be eliminated. but one might wonder, why? why did abby have such a deep-seated grudge against you? why did she feel this burning urge to take you down? just like a pack of wolves, having her sights set on the weak link, ready to pounce.
deep down, abby didn't fully understand her intense feelings towards you. each attempt to articulate her emotions only led to frustration as they were often misinterpreted in the delivery. you made her nervous in a way that was both understandable and utterly perplexing, leaving her with feelings uncharted. in a desperate attempt to maintain control, she decided the best course of action was to keep her fondness for you hidden. surely, as long as you remained oblivious to her affections, there would be no complications, right?
she’d pledge that promise to the death, do everything to her power to keep it this way. there would be no vulnerability, no broken hearts to be on the mend, even if meant being cruel. but when cassidy came and first laid her eyes on you. oh, how she wanted to claw her eyes out just for even staring at you for a millisecond long.
it infuriated her to see how easily cassidy could evoke laughter and smiles from you, things that abby denied herself. many long, self deprecating nights filled with overflowing ashtrays of spent cigarettes and a collection of empty whiskey glasses were becoming too often to be called a casual drinker.
the day she requested your presence in her office, and sat across from her as she filled out the paperwork to transfer cassidy to another floor was a moment of triumph. however, her satisfaction evaporated rather quickly—leaving her dry to the bone. throughout the entire conversation, you appeared to be dazed, barely registering a word she spoke. had she been too late? were you already so smitten with cassidy that you couldn't even comprehend a word coming out of her mouth?
was it already too late?
after you had left her office, abby found herself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. alone with her musings, her mind raced, and suddenly, all her thoughts aligned. if the two of you were indeed in a relationship, as it seemed so obvious, then separating the two of you would create an irreversible ripple effect. like two peas in a pod, together you were a force to be reckoned with, but tearing one away and crushing it would change everything.
if cassidy wanted to stoop low, she could go lower.
ANDERSON’S ESTATE
4:54 am on a sunday morning
due to the convoluted approval process, the transfer paperwork would likely take weeks, if not months, to be approved. there was no way abby could allow that to happen. by the time the transfer was accepted, you'd be off in dubai for a honeymoon with your apparent soulmate, sipping margaritas without a care in the world. no, she had to find a way to expedite the process, and it had to be done by the end of this overcoming week.
so she found herself in her office, nursing a few glasses of whiskey and indulging in chain-smoking cigarettes, a habit she could never partake in one without the other. surrounded by the solace of her private liar, the alcohol and nicotine fueled her thoughts, as she brainstormed list after list of ways to get rid of cassidy. patient abandonment was one option, but it ran the risk of tarnishing her own reputation as well. however, she was past the point of caring about the repercussions of her actions. all that mattered was taking down cassidy, one way or another.
feeling a mixture of an uncomfortable unfulfillment and disoriented, she runs a hand through her tousled mane. with a groan, rubs her eyes and gets up, smoldering the glowing embers of the cigarette in the overflowing ashtray before trudging off to bed like a pouting toddler.
In the comforts of her bed, shafts of dawn gently seeped through the curtains, with her loyal puppy, alice, sleeping at her feet, whining occasionally as she glanced up at her owner. abby couldn't help but wonder if the dog was attempting to communicate with her, as if offering a cautionary message. was it the effects of the whiskey and cigarettes playing tricks on her mind, or was her canine companion genuinely trying to warn her of impending consequences? these thoughts swirled through her muddled mind, yet the idea of it actually seemed far-fetched.
it’s a thing to think of, and another to do.
ONE DAY, MONDAY
cheshire cat grin
“and i want you all to be more aware— if you haven’t been already.” the firm voice snapped abby out of her reverie.
a weary sigh emits as her body slumps into a loose crescent shape, the strain of sitting in an ass-numbing chair for hours was finally taking its toll, and listening to her supervisor drone on and on about the same old report on employee performance wasn’t helping either. however, one particular statement caught her undivided attention.
the rise in unauthorized narcotics.
the report revealed that there had been a 3% increase in the number of supplies used compared to the usual amount. this increase caused considerable stress for the superior, who advised—no, demanded that all doctors on each floor find the culprit.
with mounting irritation from the current predicament, the overseer noticed abby’s expression and prompted her with a question. “is there anything you’d like to say, abigail?” she inquired, presumptuously.
as the superior fixed a firm gaze on her, abby’s initial instinct was to reply with a simple “no.” but then a new thought took hold. she sat up straighter, straightening her normally confident demeanor even further, and responded with a question of her own. “hypothetically speaking, if i do uncover the perpetrator, what measures will be taken in response?”
the woman’s scoff conveyed a dismissive tone, as if the answer was lingering in the air. she smugly responded, “well, hypothetically, they’d be fired on the spot, and all hospitals in the county would be notified never to employ them again.” there was a brief pause before continuing with that same overly confident demeanor, “so, they’d have to move just to find another job.” eyeing abby as if searching for even the slightest hint of nervousness.
under normal circumstances, abby’s temper would have flared at her superior’s condescending tone, but in that moment, everything was perfect. a polite smile abby offered held more than the naked eye could see.
the jigsaw pieces were falling into place.
TWO DAYS LATER, WEDNESDAY
surprise!
the days melded together, each one weighed down by a stack of endless papers and an incessant, desperate assistant who was over her shoulder, relentlessly nagged for her attention. in those moments of exhaustion, she started regretting ever giving them the slightest bit of her attention in the first place, justifying the brief lapses in her focus as mere 'moments of weakness'.
in obeying her supervisor's advice, she had been carefully observing everyone, with a heightened level of scrutiny directed towards cassidy, intentionally growing increasingly “suspicious” of her. with a fierce determination, she wrestled hard to suppress the many outbursts that threatened to spill over simply due to the sight of you and cassidy together.
even as a child, abby had a knack for fixating on unimportant details, down to the intricate nuances of color. her attention to detail had grown into a deep obsession, enabling her to familiarize herself with an object or being within days. with cassidy, she had approached it like disassembling a game of jenga, meticulously analyzing her every action, carefully calculating her plans. all she needed now was the opportune moment to set everything into motion.
just as she was about to execute her plan, a sudden, unexpected event occurred, as if on cue.
with newfound courage bolstered by a glass of whiskey and a cigarette, she rose from her chair, only for the shrill ring of her phone to pierce the tense atmosphere, and she glanced down to see a rarely-seen name on the screen— her grandmother, susana. an unyielding, meticulous woman, had been a source of inspiration for abby as she grew up, shaping her into the determined individual she had become.
susana, was a renowned fashion designer based in paris, a demanding professional life that had left her with limited time to spend with her beloved granddaughter. with a huff, sitting back in her office chair, abby picked up her phone and pressed it against her ear, preparing for their conversation.
"oh, my darling abigail!" the sound of her grandmother's sweet, melodic voice filled abby's ear.
a subtle wince crossed her face, and a forced smile tugs at her lips, almost as if her grandmother could see her through the phone.
"hi.” she responded, prompting her grandmother to lightheartedly tease, "oh, darling, why so timid?" her chuckle echoed over the line.
abby responded with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. "sorry, gam-gam, I'm just a bit stressed." she confessed.
her grandmother replied with a lighthearted hum. “well, in that case, meet me at the cafe down the street for a little whine down.” and with a click, the line went dead, leaving abby scarcely a moment to protest.
with a heavy sigh, she tossed her phone aside, muttering, "damnit." frustrated, she ran a hand over her face.
in the reserved confines of their booth, her grandmother inquired with a casual tone, "so, did you receive my letter?" she pierced a strawberry with her fork, taking a bite.
abby responded with a nod, her thoughts momentarily astray to the brief moment earlier when she'd seized the opportunity to execute her plan on cassidy's unattended bag during your lunchtime in the break room. she knew such an opportunity might not present itself again anytime soon, as cassidy was set to be away until friday.
“and the book?”
abby paused, strawberry mid-air on her fork, perplexed by her grandmother's question. "what book?" she questioned with a full mouth, confusion lacing her voice.
her grandmother sighs, explaining, "the book didn't arrive?" she grumbled about the subpar mailing service. "doesn’t matter," she continued, "we can just head over to the bookstore after and replace it." her interest piqued as her grandmother added that it was another mythology book, a favorite topic of hers.
abby's eyes sparkled with excitement. "awe, sweet! i’ve been meaning to go." she responded enthusiastically.
the older woman chuckled, observing, "old habits die hard, I suppose." she then posed a question that seemed to ignite her interest even more. "tell me, have you managed to swoon any girls with your extensive library of knowledge?" her grandmother's smile grew wider at this question, her genuine wish for abby's happiness evident. how could abby possibly ruin her grandmother's happiness?
abby wasn't one to lie, but she felt compelled to do so, especially since the truth was more difficult to share. a gentle smile tugged at her lips, and a blush appeared on her face as she played with the blueberry on her plate. though it was a lie, it was an effortless one. "well, there's this one girl at work," she began, her voice growing more softer. "she’s incredibly sweet, and I think she likes me." the rosiness in her cheeks deepened, adding a touch of authenticity to her fib.
“awe, sugarplum, who is it?”
“her name is y/n.”
ANOTHER TWO DAYS LATER, FRIDAY
the final act
after two days of being completely immersed in the book, abby managed to force herself back to reality. cassidy had reappeared, prompting abby to resume her daily observations. she diligently watched over you and cassidy, particularly monitoring the red-head’s interactions.
she had arranged a private conversation with the supervisor, raising concerns about “suspicious” behavior involving cassidy. the supervisor guaranteed action before six pm that afternoon. all she needed to do now was secure her bag alone before then. abby set an alarm on her watch, stashed the narcotics in her pocket, and exited her office, determined to carry out her plan.
she closed her door and was immediately greeted by the familiar sounds of chatter and movement, the distinctive scent of the hospital filling her nose. as she inhaled, it was as if she was breathing in the purest air. but then, the explosive sound of a voice abruptly shattered her moment of comfort. she jumped in surprise and turned her head to see a nurse.
"sorry, doctor," she apologized, her smile tinged with nervousness. "i—uhm, have documents for you to sign for a discharge." she extended the clipboard, waiting for abby to take it.
still feeling discombobulated, abby nodded stiffly as she accepted the clipboard and signed it. “are… are you okay?” the nurse's question caught her off guard, prompting her to look up. "yes—yes, I'm fine.” she replied, her voice somewhat strained.
saying a brief goodbye, she walks down the hallway, and sees cassidy getting dressed in the staff room. abby smirks, and walks inside just as she’s gonna leave. the initial door opening scares, making her jump back, and she sees it’s abby, she greets her with a smile, and quick hi, trying to exit. but abby isnt gonna let her leave so quick.
abby says a brief farewell and proceeds down the hallway, catching sight of cassidy dressing up in the staff room. she stops with a grinch-like grin saunters into the room just as cassidy is about to exit. the sudden door opening startles cassidy, making her jump back. she quickly greets abby with a smile and a casual "hi," attempting to leave. however, abby is determined not to let her go that easily.
"hey, wait." abby halts cassidy in her tracks with a firm arm grab, causing her to stop.
cassidy looks up, bewildered, and clutches her bag close to her shoulder, waiting to see what this was about. abby’s eyebrows furrowed, it’s been truly a long time since she stood by her self-proclaimed enemy. she didn't seem to have changed much— not that she cared to notice, except for the new pin on her shirt— a small pride flag, cute.
abby scoffs, chuckling which prompts cassidy to raise an eyebrow. “what’s so funny?”
in response, she shakes her head dismissively, replying with a hint of mischief, "nothing, just a joke i remembered." adding slyly with a cunning smile, she continues, "how do you like working here?"
cassidy swallows, her nerves becoming visibly apparent as she nods in agreement. "it’s good," she reiterates, adding, "yeah, i love working with the children."
abby hums in response, laughing. "well, don't let me stop you." she promptly opens the door for cassidy, eliciting a smile from her in response, and as she begins to pass through, the taller blonde adds. “enjoy it while it lasts.”
as she watched cassidy leave with her bag in hand, abby's emotions were divided. she felt a sense of sheer satisfaction, empowerment, her lips twisting into a muscle straining grin as she watched the bag recede into the distance, carrying her ticket goodbye. and she didn’t feel an ounce of regret because she did warn her. to enjoy it all, her time at the hospital to its fullest, and she meant it. true to her nature, abby prided herself on consistency, even more so in her efficiency, like a stealthy ninja.
in and out, no flaws, no witnesses.
no window for the light to shine through.
THE LIGHT
cascading over your form was from the now straining lamp above. your head ached, overwhelmed by the events of the day. but one interaction stood out as particularly odd— an event you didn't take part in, rather witness instead.
it seemed under every blue moon that cassidy and abby would interact, despite working on the same floor. there were no crossovers, so when a hand broke that line. there was something unsettling about the whole interaction, especially the invader's body language. her movements were mechanical, unnatural even, making it all hard to ignore.
a chill runs down your spine as you consider the implications. you know what you witnessed, but it feels almost unbelievable. just as with notorious serial killers, you struggle to comprehend the thought processes behind such heinous acts. perhaps this lunatic in particular requires her own account to explain her motives and actions.
you arrived at just the right moment, only a few seconds before their conversation ended. fortunately, you had come in time to witness abby casually slipping something into cassidy's bag while she was turning away. the object had a distinct pill bottle shape, subtle enough to avoid attracting unwanted attention, but enough to pique your interest.
the rumors of stolen narcotics had been circulating, and a mysterious culprit was being gossiped about behind closed doors. you and cassidy had spent some time discussing the topic, sharing silly theories, though nothing more than just pure hearsay.
your eyebrows furrow in thought, though it wasn't helping. instead, only intensified the now throbbing headache, slowly morphing into a full-blown migraine. with your hands holding your head up, you look down at long forgotten paperwork that was meant to be done from the comforts of your own home, but considering the distressing state you’re in. it was far from comforting now.
with a frustrated sigh, you flick off the lamp and abandon your paperwork, ready to rise from your desk. suddenly, your phone rings, jolting you with a spike in heart rate. you glance down at the caller ID.
you immediately answer the call, only to be met with cassidy's hysterical voice. through her sobs and gasps, she reveals that she was fired due to stealing narcotics. your worst fears were confirmed; it was no longer just a mere theory. you had indeed witnessed abby slipping something that resembled a small pill bottle into cassidy’s bag.
as you try to console your friend, a whirlwind of emotions begins to roil within you. some of that emotion directed towards yourself, but strongly towards abby. it was true, you saw it with your very own eyes, and yet chose to wait. you hated the fact that it took you so long to come to your senses, and a wave of guilt consumes you for not marching straight to the supervisor moments after witnessing it.
even if it was too late for your friend, it wasn’t for abby.
the lobby, now shrouded in dimmed lighting with very few sources of illumination, seemed like something straight out of a horror movie. paying no mind to the eerie ambiance, you quickly make your way towards abby’s office door, knowing she typically uses this time to prepare the employee’s schedules. the reasoning behind why she does it in her office is unknown, but frankly, not your biggest concern.
your knuckles collide forcefully against the wood, channeling the full extent of your anger’s strength. the door swings open, revealing a slightly taken aback abby. she utters, “what—what are you doing here?” her tone seems somewhat off.
you don’t waste any time, no words, and cut straight to the chase. “what did you do to cassidy?”
she raises an eyebrow in confusion, responding, “what are you talking about? are you on something, y/n?”
without hesitating, you push past her into her office. turning your head at neck breaking speed to set your hardened gaze onto hers. your voice takes on a more firm tone: “am i? are you?!”
you repeat your question with unwavering determination. “what did you do to cassidy?”
with a scoff, she crosses her arms, feigning innocence. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she denies.
“oh, don’t play dumb,” you retort, your gaze unwavering. “you know exactly what i’m talking about! tell me, what was it that you threw into her bag?”
she nervously swallows, her composure faltering for just a moment before she regains control. this reaction was all you needed to confirm your suspicions.
"that’s confidential.” she repeats assertively, making her way behind her desk.
"confidential, my ass!" you yell in response. "i know damn well what i saw!"
she stops in her tracks and turns her head to face you, a look of indignation on her face. “what did you just say to me?”
ignoring her interruption, you push on, demanding answers. “what did you do to her? what did you say?!” your fist clenched tightly.
for the first time, she drops her facade, maintaining eye contact without hesitation, as she admits. “i gave her a little parting gift.”
the intensity in her eyes makes your blood run cold, trying to gather a sense of what her cryptic response implies. you stammer. “what—what does that even mean?”
she suddenly realizes the gravity of her confession—how she inadvertently revealed her actions, but anger clouds her morality. "just drop it.” she grits out through clenched teeth, patience wearing thin.
the fire in your eyes flares up, brimming with anger and defiance that refuses to let you back down. "no!" you firmly retort. "you’re going to tell me!" frustration seeps through your voice as your patience wanes. you’re tired of her smug superiority, the audacity to act as if she had everyone under her command.
her lips curl into a smirk, her voice oozing with sarcastic scorn. “oh, i’m gonna tell you?” she taunts, scoffing. “tell you what? about your little friend?” her tone carries undertones of something against your mere friendship with cassidy.
the mention of something more regarding your friend sends a pang of defensiveness coursing through you.
"what?" you breathe out, taken aback. "what does that even mean, huh?"
she takes a step forward, each breath heavy and labored. her voice betrays her impatient nature, a predator preparing to pounce. “oh, you know what that means,” she retorts, scoffing internally at how dull you’re being to an obvious situation. despite the tension in the room reaching a high, it’s abby’s intensity that seizes the moment. you half expected to see her licking her lips with anticipated hunger, like a ravenous beast.
it sends a rush of conflicting emotions coursing through you—an alluring mixture of curiosity and trepidation. the encounter itself feels like a high-stakes game of chess where you struggle to predict your opponent's next move. as you step back, your confidence falters, and your voice softens into a small whimper.
“i don’t...”
abby catches onto this, pouncing on it like a hungry lion sensing weakness, further igniting her motives.
you gasp as your back meets the cool, solid wood behind you. in an instinctive movement, your eyes flick briefly behind you before darting back forward. only to find abby’s overbearing presence suffocating your personal space.
"oh, i think you do." she rasps, tilting her head to the side, a chuckle escaping her lips. her faltering gaze lingering to your lips for a fleeting moment before pulling away. her tone seethes with anger, words biting as she scoffs.
“you think you’re so damn slick, huh?” she paces back and forth, a fierce intensity in her stride, causing you to wince in response.
“you act like i wouldn’t catch on to your little games, as if it wasn’t painfully transparent to everyone around you!” her frustration builds, and she raises her arms, unleashing a frustrated sigh before bringing them down forcefully to slap her thighs. "as if i wouldn’t notice!”
you couldn't understand where this anger was coming from. sure, she had always been an asshole, but lately, her outbursts and irritability have seemed to reach a new assholery. and it seemed to have started around the same time you had become friends with cassidy. It was almost as if your newfound friendship had awakened something within her, something darker and more volatile. perhaps jealousy?
abby’s anger blazes brightly in her eyes, her words sharp. "god, you’re infuriating," she says, her voice laced with hostility. "like some fucking prodigy, you think you know everything, don’t you?!" she emphasizes with lurching her body forward, her hands slamming down on the desk either side of you, effectively trapping you in place.
your breath hitches as she draws nearer, her proximity sending an intoxicating wave throughout your body. the intensity of her anger is palpable, every labored breath brushing against your skin like a gentle caress. her lips are tantalizingly close to yours, separated by an annoying invisible barrier that could be shattered at any moment if she so desired. just one push.
"fuck you, abby!" you hiss, your voice faltering for a moment before hardening. "you always had a goddamn bone to pick with me, you piece of shit!" your words linger in the air, carrying years of built-up resentment directed at abby. but the shock of her unexpected confession wipes away your outrage, replacing it with astonishment.
"because i love you!" she yells, her voice ringing out louder than intended. her revelation hangs in the air, rendering you speechless. as those words sink in, your breath catches in your throat. "what?" you manage to croak out, hardly believing what you've just heard.
you observed a flicker of vulnerability in her expression that's quickly replaced by a hardened composure. there was no turning back, the cat was out of the bag, and so she only pressed forward with determination.
her voice descending to a low, sultry tone, she says "you think watching what's mine prancing around like a slut at her own workplace doesn't make me livid?" each word drips with possessive anger and suppressed desire.
your voice comes out smaller and fragile than anticipated as you muster the words, "i’m… i’m not yours." you struggle to meet abby's intense gaze, your body tensing subconsciously as you push yourself against her desk, attempting to create some space between the two of you. the air is thick with tension, the room practically vibrating with the weight of abby’s confession and your denial. you felt trapped, your body practically molding into the desk behind you.
"do you believe that?" she inquires, raising a brow in challenge. she lifts a thumb to slide across your bottom lip, her touch firm yet almost teasing. she pauses for a moment before letting out a gravelly chuckle, further probing into the tension. “i don’t.” she admits with a light shrug. her movements felt taunting, yet calculated as if she’s trying to catch you in a lie, and to fess up.
abby was frustrated, bordering on infuriated, trying to make sense of the situation. her mind was a tangle of emotions, and she felt like she was grasping at straws, trying to connect the pieces in her head. she had the mental board laid out in her mind, each string connecting to a different thought, all pointing to one central question: you and cassidy, and the enigma of your poorly hidden relationship. this uncertainty fueled her anger, and you weren’t making it any better. she wanted to do something— anything— to show you that you weren't just anyone's; you were hers.
"what about alexa, huh?" you ask, gaining a peak of confidence, your words snapping her attention back.
“what about her?” she questions truthfully, amused by your presumed jealousy. “you jealous?"
caught off guard and exposed, you feel the equilibrium shift, upending the chess pieces in your mind. "i’m not jealous," you insist, realizing the power her words hold. it’s as if she has cornered you in this game, check. mate.
“oh, sure you aren’t." abby steps closer, her body pressing against yours, trapping you between her and the desk. her words take on a dual edge of ire and yearning as she smirks. "i should’ve known with the way you’ve been acting, you’re practically begging me to put you in your place.” she murmurs, chuckling gravely. "to fuck you until you can only say yes, doctor anderson." she feigns a high pitch moany tone, a lewd and terrible, yet obvious admit of sounding like you as she says “yes, doctor anderson.”
she laughs before humming, seeming to enjoy that fantasy as she lets herself become lost in the idea for a moment before continuing.
abby’s features lean in closer, the heat from her breath caressing the apple of your cheek as she murmurs against your ear, “tell me, do you let cassidy make you her personal pocket pussy?” her words send a shiver down your spine as her hand moves to caress your cheek, pausing to let you feel the weight of her question in the air before inquiring further, “to bend you over anywhere, anytime, and you’ll just take it like a good girl?” her words laced with a lewdness that sends a thrill through your body, despite the fact that you know you should reject the notion. the question itself was filthy, taboo, and utterly intoxicating. but you couldn’t deny the existence of being drawn to it, deep down knowing more than ever if you ever were to think of that fantasy, you’d want it to be her, not cassidy.
“no, no, it’s not like that.” you attempt to defend yourself, trying to find the right words, but abby interjects before you can say anything else. she scoffs at your attempted denial, her grip on you tightening, causing you to wince. her voice lowers into a dark laugh, her disbelief evident. "oh really? you really expect me to believe that bullshit?"
her name escapes your lips in a gasp, but abby cuts you off yet again, her eyes darkening as she speaks.
"lemme tell you what it's like," she begins, her tone husky. “i think you'd like it. hell, you pray that it does happen because you're nothing but just a pathetic girl who wants some attention. is that what you want? attention?" abby inquires, licking her teeth in an almost predatory manner. your heart races in your chest as her words cut through you.
the tension in the room is palpable, thick with unexpressed desire and emotion. you find yourself unable to hold back any longer, your voice quivering as you voice your deep-seated need. “i want your attention," you confess, your words almost inaudible, they're so faint.
even if faint, she heard all of it, dissected each syllable. it’s all she ever wanted, no, needed to hear from you. “yeah?” her voice falters into a soft whimper, tilting her head to the side and grabbing your cheeks with her large hands, only now focusing on your lips. “i’ll give you all my attention.” she promises, swiftly pulling your face, smashing yours onto hers.
your body trembled from the conflicting sensations, a clash of cold and hot, a maelstrom of warring emotions. years without her touch had left you craving her embrace, and her lips on yours sent heat coursing through your veins. though the kiss stood unspoken, there was no need for actions that spoke louder. both hatred and desire intertwined, two sides of the same coin, fueling this volatile gesture. your hands roamed her body, exploring every curve and contour, as hers did the same, desperately pulling you closer, kneading your flesh like clay. your hands finally found a resting place on her shoulders, gripping her like a lifeline in the storm of sensations swirling around you.
your movements, your gasps and sighs, fueled the fire within abby, and with a determined strength, she hoists you up onto her desk. the sudden change in position elicits gasp from you, pressing your body against hers with an arch, and abby seizes the moment, slipping her tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervent passion. it was a dance both familiar and new, a moment of fiery connection that consumed you both.
her breath ragged, lips tingling from the passion of the kiss as stares down at you, her eyes dark and filled with hunger as she murmurs her confession. "i've always dreamt of this… having you," her fingers roaming over your body slowly as she says this, relishing in the way you react to her touch. she presses her forehead shading yours, her dilated eyes reflecting the depth of her desire. her cold thumbs find their way underneath your clothes, tracing slow circles, sending a shiver through your body. "having this feeling of your skin under my fingertips."
your voice quivered as you call her name, and for a moment you think your plea to have her lips on yours again are answered, but instead, she finds her new focus, your neck. her lips fall, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites. the sound of your whimpers only spurred her on, her hands gripping your hips possessively as she continued to mark your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys.
abby was in her element now, and your desperate tone only fed her desire. she wanted more, to hear you call her name even more. with a smirk, she lifted her head, eyes burning with amusement. "yeah? you like the sound of that, pretty girl?" she muses, her hand suddenly landing a sharp smack on your thigh, making you jump. in response, she chuckled at your reaction, her laugh sent tingles down your spine, a mixture of amusement and desire. her grip on your thighs tightened, pushing them higher up, and drinking up the sight of you, spread before her with your feet on the desk sent abby's desire spiraling out of control. she couldn't help but lick her lips, taking in the full view of your flushed skin and parted legs. you couldn't hold back a squirm, feeling so exposed— though you weren’t — under her intense gaze.
"i love seeing you like this," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. she steps towards you again, nestling herself in the newfound space. her lips return to your neck, greeting the previous bruises plastered on your neck with soft licks and kisses. "so desperate and needy."
her hands leave your thighs as she lifts herself up to meet your gaze, taking in your already disheveled state. with a hum of satisfaction, she asks, "who gets you like this?"
you manage to respond with a barely audible, "you, abby." she hums at your whimperish respond, a smirk crossing her lips at the confirmation, "yes, not that bitch, cassidy. me. and only me, right, baby?" she gives a slight nod, as if she’s responding for you.
the blonde brings her hand up to your lips, watching as you open your mouth to invite her thumb, which she eagerly accepts.
she let out a low, guttural groan as you suck and lick her pad of her thumb, enjoying the sensations that your mouth causes. she couldn't resist the urge to voice her thoughts, her words thick with possession and desire.
"hm, such a dirty girl." she paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, before amending her statement with a husky tone, "my dirty girl."
you release her thumb with a pop, humming a tone of satisfaction, and licking your lips to savor the lingering taste of her. a chuckle escapes abby's lips as she watches you, her eyes roaming your body yet again. the desire to rip your clothes off and shut you up has been building since the moment you walked into her office, "take this off, baby. you’re killing me with not showing me what's mine," she growls, her words tinged with need and possess. "need to see it, feel it. need." she mumbled against your skin, completely submitted to her delusions. you don’t fight this time, barely able to remove each article of clothing with abby eagerly kissing and licking every available inch of skin. but stops at your bikini line, encountering a setback— your underwear — cockblocking her.
her eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, looking up at you with an almost comical expression of frustration, and offense. as if being unable to take off your underwear because of her was a you problem. “funny.” she retorts, tone dripping in sarcasm, but nothing on her face shows amusement. “real fucking funny.” she remarks, punctuating her words with a sharp smack to your hip, kneading at the red skin roughly, making you wince. “you fucking tease.” she continues, her voice laced with a mix of desire and irritation.
"i should punish you for that little stunt," her fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear, intending to pull them down herself since you’re incompetent to do so. “but, fuck, look at all this.” she relents, sliding them off your legs— and pocketing them for later — to reveal your core, practically weeping for her. “all this f’me?” she pants, eyes flicking up to yours.
a whiny moan of her name slips past your lips, but she shushes you gently, her voice softer now. "i know, baby, i know." she cooed, her large hand running comfortingly up and down your side. as she spreads your quivering legs further, exposing your drenched folds, abby feasts her eyes upon the sight before her. her lips curve upward, "fuck," she breathed, her eyes never leaving your pulsing core. “look at this pretty pussy. this is prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen—this has to be mine.” she leans down, her warm breath ghosting over your clit before she pressing a tender kiss there, savoring your reaction to her smallest touch, and now wondering what other reactions she could get out of you.
you weren't prepared for what came next, not one bit. expecting her to take things slow, you were completely caught off guard as abby gripped your thighs and, in one swift motion, separated your slimy folds, lapping any sweet nectar waiting for her. you tense from sudden sensation, letting out a loud, unapologetic moan as you arch off the desk. your hands instinctively tangle themselves into her steady braid that soon unravels from being used as reins.
encouraged by your fervent response, abby delved deeper, her skilled tongue tracing a path to your engorged nub. enclosing it between her lips, she whispered her praise, "you taste better than i thought." her voice trembled, mingling with your own moans.
as her teeth gently nipped at your sensitive bundle, you cried out, your thighs involuntarily squeezing her shoulders. a wicked smirk graced her lips as she basked in your reaction, taking immense pleasure in your submission.
the unexpected pinch sent jolts of shock through your body, your limbs twitching and writhing in a frenzied dance. in response, abby repositions her left hand on your abdomen, gripping tightly to anchor you in place. each sound that escaped your trembling lips fueled her hunger, her throaty hums resonating against your flesh. with a devilish gleam in her eyes, she teasingly traced circles near your navel with her thumb, heightening your anticipation.
a groan rumbled in her throat when your fingers gripped her hair, the sensation only spurring her on. her mouth fastened more insistently around your swollen nub, sucking harder as you cried out her name. the strain in your voice confirmed her suspicions: you were on the cusp of your release, and she was eager to push you over.
abby's fingers joined the fray, sliding in and out of your slick folds with practiced ease. her relentless assault on your clit continued, her touch sending shivers through your body and causing your breaths to come in ragged gasps. the sight of you, quivering and exposed before her, stoked a fire within her, a determination to send you flying over the edge.
abby derived an addiction from your pleasure. each moment of ecstasy seemed to fuel her further, driving her to amplify the tempo and depth of her ministrations. as the room filled with the lewd symphony of flesh meeting flesh and intertwined heavy breaths, something stirred within abby. something unfamiliar, uncharted. normally, she would exhibit unrivaled confidence during intimate encounters, but with you, it was different—more intense, deeper. a desperate craving to be perfect, to ensure you'd never seek anyone else but her. she’d hate to admit it, but the realization gnaws at her: the longing for you even after this is over.
"who's making you cum tonight?" abby questioned the obvious once more, but her arrogance tone underlined the strong need for reassurance. your moans were her only response, and while she adored the sweet sounds, she craved more. a sudden shift in her fingers’ movements made you yell out, "you, abby," your words punctuated by cries of pleasure.
her fingers, now confined within your tight grip, sensed the growing tension, the impending eruption, the imminent of your orgasm. "uh-huh, come for me," she ordered, "let me hear who’s making a mess of you."
the warnings of your impending release came with fervor, each thrust hastening to the inevitable snap of the tightening band in your abdomen. then when it did, a cry rang out, loud and clear, as her name left your lips in tandem with your essence painting her features. in this haze of euphoria, you suddenly find a sense of clarity, wondering how in all worlds did you end up in this situation, in the arms— or rather the mouth of your boss?
it’s rather short lived, quickly fading into a hazy blur. you threw your head back as her eyes closed, savoring the taste of your ecstasy with a hum, helping you through your orgasm until your body laxs.
withdrawing her fingers, abby admired the sight of your juices clinging to them, a testament to her efforts. a satisfied smile stretches across her face as she reveled in the knowledge that she had brought you to such heights.
she licks them clean, feeling a rush of gratification that only you can provide. releasing her fingers with a soft pop, her lips make way and pave along the curve of your hip, leaving a trail of wet, sticky kisses behind as she moves up to stand before you. “such a good girl..” she mumbled against your skin. you lift yourself up with your elbow, taking a moment to catch your breath, your body still quivering from the intensity of your orgasm that has left you momentarily speechless. you couldn't help, but notice abby’s disheveled appearance as well. untangled, her hair strays from its famed braid, now flowing around her face like a cascade of waves.
but before you could comment on the sight, she claims your lips in a tender, sweet kiss, her hands cupping your face. the connection was brief, and when she pulled away, a grin lit up her features. without another word spoken, she unclothes herself, revealing herself in all her glory. you knew she worked out, but goddamn, did she work out! the determination to achieve the physique showed immensely. in your admiration, you felt the apple of your cheeks warm up, causing you to look away.
"don’t go shy on me, babe," she chided playfully, repositioning your face to meet hers. she seals the deal with another kiss pushing you down gently onto the desk. "lay back f’me, ‘kay?"
with a nod, you comply, watching as the corded muscles in her arms flex as she moves into position, lifting your leg. a grin tugged at the corners of your lips as she placed a tender kiss on your ankle, making her soft chuckle fill the air in return before she securely set your leg on her shoulder.
the moment your wet folds connected, a guttural moan escaped her lips. the sensation was everything she craved, wasting no time in starting a vigorous grinding motion. as she ruts back and forth, she can’t help but mutter curses under her breath, lost in her own pleasure. "fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good." she hisses, throwing her head back. the raw intensity of her emotions written clear as day on her features.
her concentration nearly falters when she glances down, and the sight that met her eyes threatened to make her cum on the spot. the image of your hair spread out across the desk, your bouncing breasts with every upthrust combined with the feeling of your warmth against hers drove her to near insanity.
abby swore she had to be on the edge of a near-death experience, or some type of dejà vu as she gazed upon you in awe, swearing that you resembled a goddess straight out of a mythology book she had once read. though the memory of the goddess’s name was just out of reach, abby couldn't shake the feeling that she had personally seen a painting she once visited come to life in front of her very own eyes.
your hair, freed from its usual up do, was now cascading around your head and spilling off the edge of the desk like an ebony waterfall. your body, unrestrained, was a breathtaking display of femininity. each heaving breath caused your breasts to sway gently, your nipples hardened in anticipation. the way your skin glistened with a thin film of sweat only added to the captivating tableau.
in that moment, abby could almost imagine you as a divine muse from an ancient myth, a vision of beauty and desire. if she didn't snap herself back to reality, the mere sight might have been enough to send her hurtling toward an orgasm. but she had other plans, and she was determined to make them happen.
without warning, abby leaned down, her left hand resting beside your head to brace herself. as her mouth wrapped over one of your taut nipples, her tongue danced over the sensitive bud. simultaneously, her free hand kneaded your other breast, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. your hips bucked involuntarily, meeting her thrusts, and for a moment, it stuttered her pace, a low moan escaping her lips.
"fuck—baby, don't—don't do that," she pleads, filthy groans slipping pass her lips as her hand slides down to your hip, holding you firmly in place as her engorged clit pulsated with building intensity. she was determined to make you cum before she did.
your whispered invocation of her name caused her to glance up at your flushed, disheveled appearance. the sight was a temptation she couldn't resist, and crashed her lips against yours, the feverish kiss mirroring the urgency of your coupling. the closeness and ferocity of both embraces unconsciously synced your movements, hips rocking in unison.
"fuck! abby, i’m gonna cum, please!" your gasps grew heavier and staccato, your forehead pressing against hers as her pace quickened, breaths entwining. normally, abby would step in and reprimand her employees for behaving too freely when seemingly having too much fun. however, in this moment, she actively encourages it, the atmosphere brimming with an intense hunger for it.
"i know, baby, i know." abby's hand found your cheek, stroking it soothingly as if trying to appease your mind to allow what’s inevitable. "cum for me—cum with me," she pants, her pace faltering as she reached her zenith. her arms enveloped you, her hair acting as a curtain around the two of you. guiding you through your release, the slick of your shared pleasure coated your entwined bodies.
once over, abby’s rhythm ceased, and she collapsed on top of you, utterly spent. the weight of the night's passionate encounters bore down, leaving the two of you entwined in the afterglow.
in the act of catching your breaths, it gave abby post-nut clarity. her cheeks reddened, overwhelmed with shame for her past behavior, guilt gnawing at her insides as she realized how much of an ass she had been. it makes her get up, promptly making you sit up, confused.
with a shaky breath, she pushed her hair behind her ear, an expression that was nothing like her usual confident self. "look," she began hesitantly, her voice strained as she struggled to find the right words. unable to meet your gaze, she continued, "i’m sorry for everything. i've been having these feelings, feelings i-i don't even know how to process about you, but i... just wanted to say that i'm sorry for being such an asshole. it was pathetic."
finally, she looked at you, her lips laced in a pout. her confession took you by surprise, leaving you speechless. it was a side of abby you never saw, apologetic.
“asshole is an understatement.” you finally say, laughing softly, an attempt to alleviate the tension in the air, yet it brought no amusement to the receiver. with a quick gulp to clear your throat, you question, “what kind of feelings?” tilting your head to one side.
abby's mouth forms into a tight smile at your lighthearted comment. "they're romantic feelings," she confessed, taking a step forward. she knew the likelihood of your response, but nonetheless continued. "i wasn't lying when i said 'i love you’… but if you don't—" she let out a shaky exhale, the next words stinging. "I'll understand."
unable to suppress an oncoming smile, you take the sight of the usually tough-as-nails abby anderson, now a softie. taking for a moment before responding with a soft voice that leaves abby confused, "you look pretty like this.”
"what?"
"yeah, you should wear your hair down when we go on a date."
Synopsis: Sevika becomes infatuated with the pretty barista who makes her morning coffee, and you can't stop thinking about the older woman who fixes the vents at your work and has begun to appear every time you're working.
mdni | content: g!p Sevika, stalking, panty theft, boot riding, dry humping, oral sex, vaginal squirting and fingering, cunnilingus, rough vaginal sex, praise kink, pet names, coercion, obsessive/possessive behavior, subspace, creepy Sevika (kind of), dacryphilia, dom/sub undertones, age difference (major, twenty years), breeding kink,
Pairing: Blue-collar worker! Sevika x barista!reader
a/n: apologies I took so long :(, but I am here with this request fic, my favorite so far from Sevika, and I loved writing it !! this is 8.3K words so long sorry :( but have fun reading !!! feel free to send me more requests or fic ideas.
Sevika did not account for falling hopelessly in love with you. In fact, she didn’t account for meeting you in general. In the time she’d been called to Moonbuck Coffee, she had not officially met you. She only heard your names through the employees who would run amok trying to take care of the customers.
It’s not until an issue with the HVAC vent that has her hauling ass to the shop that she has the opportunity to see you. The summer heat is blaring in the back of her head, and she’s entering the shop, the smell of coffee bean and syrup circling her nose. Sevika looks around for a second, and then she sees you.
And you hold up your hand, waiting for her to circle the counter. You’re about a foot shorter than she is, doe eyes staring up at her. She notices everything. The way you stare at her face, and how your throat bobs as she towers you.
Her eyes flash down to your tag. ‘Y/N’. And she says your name inside her head, thinking about it, even when she’s eyeing the inside of the vent, and you’re so eagerly passing her the equipment from the bag. She can see sweat beads along your forehead, and as you pass the equipment, her calloused hands brush yours.
Heat rushes through her body, curling along her spine. What feels like bliss fizzes across her mind, and when she’s done, her eyes follow you. When the latter is back behind the shop, you’re quick to give her a cup. An iced coffee–something she never indulges in because sweets have never been her thing.
But you look at her, with a smile, so soft and innocent, pupils slightly dilated, as her hands extend to yours. “On me,” you say, and she can spot the shakiness in your voice, “consider it a thank you for saving us from the heat.”
Sevika stares at the drink before she takes it, purposely wrapping her hands just a centimeter above yours, a safe distance for her pinky to glide down and touch your skin. “Will I always get this kind of treatment when something breaks?” She murmurs, something akin to sarcasm and amusement behind her voice.
You nod. Fast and eager, and Sevika imagines that it’s just for her, “Yes.”
Somewhere along the lines of her working through nine more vents, and some complaints about her gruff demeanor, she thinks about you. She thinks about your eager little nod and the way you looked up at her while fixing the vents. You curl along her frontal lobe, the smell of coffee beans and sweat infecting her brain until all she can smell is you.
Sevika goes back to the coffee shop around closing time. A need for something. Perhaps a look at you, perhaps the smell of coffee. It doesn’t matter, but she needs something. When she arrives, you’re wiping down the espresso machine, all alone.
“A little dangerous to be by yourself at this time.” Sevika steps into the counter, eyes staring you down.
The sky had dimmed, and one could barely see anything from the windows, save for the little light post that continuously flickers. But you laugh at her, “‘m not alone… well, right now, anyways. The other workers are in the back, and it’s a slow night. How was that iced coffee?”
“Sweet. Too sweet, but…I liked it. Vanilla cold brew.”
You nod, “Are you still working?”
“Just a little longer, and then I’m finished.” Truthfully, she was done. There wasn’t any work left to do. She simply wanted to see you. You ring her up, and she watches you, while you’re working, eyes brushing along your neck, the curve of your spine, and the twitch in your finger.
When you finish, you slide the drink to her, and she racks her brain about the times she’s seen you. A month working around Moonbuck, and she never once laid eyes on you. “Did you barely start working here?”
Your smile slowly fades away. “It is that bad?”
Sevika laughs, letting her shoulder shake. “No. No. It’s good. I mean, because I’ve come to do maintenance and I’ve never seen you.”
“Oh,” your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape before you shake your head, “No, I just get these odd hours, since I have another job. But I live around the area, so I’m a little focused on this one. Perhaps you’ll see me a lot more.”
Interesting. Her head tilts, “You live by?”
“Yeah, so I don’t need to drive. Just a quick twenty-minute walk. Not too bad, some days, I drag myself home, because standing up all the time, really works your muscles.”
“Still a little dangerous, don’t you think? Walking alone at night.” Sevika says it, and along her brain, she imagines protecting you. Making sure that you get home safely, perhaps walking you all the way inside.
You give her a shrug, “Sometimes, but I can’t always have someone watching over me, to make sure I get home,” and you laugh, as if the thought is too ridiculous. But Sevika thinks otherwise.
Sevika smiles along, but she never comments. When she finally sits down, halfway into the cold brew, you begin to talk. You drone on about random crap, but she never really interjects; she simply pays attention, glancing at Vi, then turning her attention to you. Sometimes she’d say, “I understand”, and then “What do you mean?” and you’d elaborate.
By the end, it almost feels as though you’ve given her every ounce of information about your life. Sevika memorises it all. Where you work, how much you hate some of your coworkers in the other job, and how tired you get sometimes.
Sevika thinks about all the ways she can make it better, how good she’d treat you if you let her. How she’d make sure you stay happy and belly full with whatever you need. The amount of flowers she’d give you, if you just gave her a chance.
When Sevika leaves, she glides into her car, lighting a cigarette from across the street. You can’t really blame her, though; she has a soft heart, despite her appearance, and the thought of someone harming you makes her sick. So she stays there, watching while you clean and finish everything, then takes your bag and closes Moonbuck.
You never really notice the older woman walking behind you. It’s difficult to actually gauge a presence behind you when you’re listening to music. But it doesn’t matter because Sevika makes sure that you’re alright, and even walks you to your house, stopping just at a small bush to make sure that you make it inside your apartment.
Sevika comes back the next morning, exactly around nine thirty, with the same order. A vanilla cold brew. Then the next day, and the day after that. You’re the one who rings her up, always. It becomes a routine, and on the days that you don’t work in the morning, she’s there at night, with an order of vanilla cold brew and maybe a burrito if she’s feeling different.
And every other night shift that you cover, she’s also there, parking her car away from the shop, giving her enough leverage to watch you through the windows. It’s her routine after work, making sure that her pretty barista makes it home.
On Monday, you head to your second job around nine pm, rushing out of the apartment, trying to put your hair in a ponytail, or just away from your face. There’s a cold water bottle in your hand, and a bag in the other, juggling them as you enter your beat up honda. Sevika isn’t working; it’s her off day.
When you finally pull away from the driveway, you park the car, a street away, black cap on her head, rushing to the apartment complex. She already guessed which one is yours, and she stops in front of the black door, looking side to side, before she squats down, picking the lock.
When the door pops open, she smells lilac along with another flowery scent, and her eyes rake over everything, until her gloved hands are pushing open your room door. Sevika noses your bed sheets, pulling the cover back to smell you, inhaling a floral and sweet scent, close to fabric softener. “Mhm, my pretty girl.” Sevika groans.
She wishes she could stop there, but her hands find their way into your drawers, fingertips trailing your ribbed bras, lacy and plain designs all along. Then your panties, and she holds onto her strength as she pulls them to her face, cock twitching, thinking of you wearing them for her.
And she’s quick to snatch a pair from your dirty hamper, stuffing them inside her jeans. Two pairs, one dirty and one clean, so she can smell your cunt on her break. The next day, she’s quick to stuff one in her jeans.
She doesn’t pull them out until it’s afternoon, and calls become slower. With five minutes on the clock before her lunch break, she stuffs herself in one of the bathroom stalls. She’s quick to hold her shirt in her mouth, muffling a hiss as she pulls her cock out. It slaps her lean stomach, tip gleaming with precum, while thick veins jut out from along the shaft.
Her hands grip onto herself as she reaches for your panties, shoving them on her face. Her tongue darts along the material as she fucks into her first, reaching to the head and spreading precum. Pleasure darts across her back, curling in her spine, and she can almost envision you in front of her.
Please, Sevika, fuck my mouth. Sevika’s cock twitches imaging you begging for a taste, pink tongue out, pupils dilated as her cock slaps your tongue. A soft groan escapes her lips, “fuckkk, that’s it.”
And in her head, fuzzy with lust and need, as your tongue darts along the head, doe-eyes watering as you try not to choke on her, trying your best to please her. And she shouldn’t think about this, because you’re so young, and she’s nearly twenty years older than you.
Goosebumps spread across her skin, and her balls tighten as you pull away from her cock, opening your mouth to show her, spit circling your mouth. ‘Please, Vika, I’ll be so good for you, need you to take care of me.’
The thought of you saying that to her, all needy and whiny, nearly splits her brain in two, and her hand tightens around the head of her cock, hips twitching as cum shoots from the red slit. “fucckk.”
Her loud gasp rings around, echoing until she’s leaning laxly on the wall of the bathroom. Her muscles twitch, orgasm spiralling through her system until she’s finally stopped seeing double. Guilt rushes through her system, and she pushes your panties inside her jeans.
She tries not to think about the fact that she came from just imagining you on your knees. Or the fact that in the good thirteen years she’s worked at Zaun, she’s never done that. It feels disgusting, yet so fucking good.
She still stops by the Moonbuck during the night. And you still smile at her, sweet and so so fucking pretty, unaware that your babydoll panties, the ones with flowers embroidered on them, are inside Sevika’s jeans, nearly stained with her cum.
“How was work today?” You ask her, wiping down the sticky counter, while the espresso machine softly hums behind you. “We had this guy come in, super pissed his mobile order was wrong, and he nearly threw the drink at us.”
She clicks her tongue, “People like that don’t deserve proper customer service. Sorry, you had such a bad day.”
“It’s okay…it wasn’t your fault, and you’re right.” You respond, “But tell me about your day.”
And Sevika recounts it. The boring details, how dirty she gets, and everything, but never how she came apart in the bathroom thinking about sinking into your sweet pussy, and the taste of you in her mouth. And you laugh along, loud and unabashed, shoulders shaking, while pieces of your hair stick out, and your uniform is a bit fucked up from moving around.
For a second, she wished she could kneel and convince you to open your legs and let her fuck her tongue into you. Suck out all the exhaustion from your bones until you’re crying, and boneless against her. That is, until you’re starting to mop the floor, signalling her that she needs to leave and go back to making sure you get home safely.
The next day, the same thing with HVAC happens again. It’s barely one in the afternoon, just hours after you served Sevika her regular Vanilla cold brew. Before she gets there, you’re in the backroom, inhaling the earthy scent of ground beans while the soft hiss of the espresso machine grinds in your ear.
You can hear the jittery murmur of the crowd outside, and before you can stack another coffee bag, the loud scheet, akin to metal-on-metal grinding, echoes through the ceiling vents. You pause for a second, beads of sweat curl in the back of your neck.
An electrical hum rings around, and you go back to packing more coffee. You don’t exactly realise something is wrong until you’re outside the backroom after a good ten minutes, firmly tapping the coffee ground onto a metal portafiler, and sweat builds in every crevice of your body.
Ekko is the one who turns to you, with a sweat on his forehead, “Is it just me, or is it hotter than usual?”
You shrug until Jinx comes out. “I think the AC is out…or something, but the air is fucking gone,” she whispers, wiping her pink cheek. “Someone fix it, before I quit.”
Heat curls along your belly. Sevika. With a flick of a switch, you lock the portafiler into the espresso machine, “Ekko, get this for me, I’ll call Sevika.”
Jinx smiles, “First name basis, huh?”
“Fuck off.” You whisper to her, heading towards the back again, and the wave of hot air makes you shudder. The mix of coffee beans has begun to make you sick, and it’s been only a year.
In the back, the phone rings, and a husky voice picks up. “Zaun’s Heating Service, what do you need?”
“Hi…it’s Moonbuck. I think our A/C is out, or something with the air is ou–”
“Y/N?”
You pause, finally recognising the husky voice, “Sev?”
“I’ll be right there, doll.”
Doll. Doll.
You smile, cheek to cheek, until you can feel the guidiness in your scalp, toes, and fingertips. When Sevika arrives, you’ve taken off your headcap, and your hair is up. You can feel the sweat building in your temples, and the smell of toasted hazelnut, along with burnt sugar curls in your nose. There aren’t that many customers, though, not compared to the morning; oddly enough, the afternoon is quiet.
She arrives wearing dark jeans, brown steel boots, and a dark blue shirt with the name ‘Zaun’s Heating Service’ in white. A small orange towel hangs from one of her front pockets, and she carries a thick black and yellow bag in her hand. A thick feeling of deja vu crosses your spine.
It almost feels like the first time you met. Perhaps it’s the heat, or the way your fingers have touched every inch of your body, thinking about the much older sevika, that comes into work, keeping you company. Like your own shining knight.
You can’t help but stare at her. The way her muscles bulge out of the dark blue shirt, and how her thick dark eyebrows are knitted together, as she quickly passes to the back of the counter. “This feels a little familiar, don’t you think?”
She smiles, and god, she takes up so much space, that when she stops in front of you, the immediate feeling to take a step back curls in you. Despite the smell of the shop taking over your nose, the scent of Sevika makes your stomach bubble. Sweat, oil, and wood. It hits you all that once, just like when you first met her. “A little.”
She follows you into the back room, and the ladder is already under the vent. Sevika drops her bag on the floor, and you’re already flushing from the heart, but your ears heat up as she leans into your space. Her leg is propped on one of the steps, “Are you messing with the vent just to see me, Doll?”
You blink at her, too focused on the fact that she could pick you up. How easily she could fuck you against the backroom wall, hidden in the corner where Caitlyn and Vi always sneak to. You bashfully look away, “You’ve figured out my plan.”
“You can always call me, doll. You know my number.” Sevika drawls out, climbing up to the vent. Your ears heat up, and you only hum, trying to keep your face from showing too much joy.
She takes a look at the vent and then down towards you. Dark grey eyes stare back, taking a second before blinking and looking back up. She pops the ceiling tile out, while you’re staring at her broad shoulders, seeing tiny specs of dust drift down into the air.
When Sevika begins to work, she’ll look down, mention some kind of equipment, then give you a dumbed-down description of it. “Pass the five-sixteenth bit out of the side pocket.” And she’s about to give you a description of it until you’re shuffling through the bag, reaching for the hex-head screw.
You pass it to her, reaching up, and she gives you a wide smile. Wide enough to show all teeth, “Atta girl. Learning fast, ain’t ya?”
Jolts of heat rush through your body, feeling her warm, rough hand against yours. You bite back a whimper, the praise rushing through your body like wildfire, and it sounds exactly like you’ve imagined her saying it to you.
You keep reaching down, touching her rough fingers, until a heavy clank screeches, and the hum of the HVAC kicks in, blasting cool, stale air. Sevika climbs down, wiping sweat from her brow, while dark stains cover her collar and armpit area. You stand there like an idiot, until she takes a step towards you, hands steady on the latter.
Your mouth is slightly parted, doe-eyes still staring up. “Need help?” You whisper.
“You don’t think I can carry it?” She laughs, grabs the ladder, and walks towards the back. You can’t tell what compelled you to act irrationally. Maybe it’s the heat getting to your head, but you follow her, taking small steps, until she’s turning, and you’re pushing her to the little corner away from the camera.
You tiptoe until you’re pressing your lips to hers, and her back is hitting the storage shelves, rattling the myriad of coffee bean bags. A small sigh escapes your lips, and you’re clutching onto her strong shoulders. You freeze, pulling back when Sevika doesn’t move. Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t look mad or disgusted.
“I…I’m so s–”
And she’s quickly turning your back to the shelf, pushing her tongue inside your mouth, as you gasp. She licks, tongue darting to your teeth, until she’s tasting the residue of caramel on your premolars, sliding to your tongue.
Her knee pushes between your legs, and your hips thrust down, whining into her mouth. You push back, trying to take a deep breath while she nuzzles her neck into yours, leaving sweat on the side, inhaling your scent. “Sev…” You breathe out. “More, please.”
She pulls back eyebrows knitted, “I can’t doll, I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have.”
“Why?”
Her eyes dart down to your wet lips, “You’re so young.”
A sixteen-year difference that makes your body heat up. “Who cares about that? Just a couple of years,” You retort, trying to push her closer to you, “Please, I wa–need, I need it.” And you’ve never been above begging, even crying as you blink back tears.
Sevika’s calloused hands cup your face, thump, wiping the little tear on your cheek. “Tell you what. I’ll take you on a date, and we’ll see.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, “Really?”
And she nods, leaning down to brush her lips against hers. Every ounce of warmth from her mouth shoots down to your cunt, until you’re sure your panties are soaked. A small voice calls out from the front, and Sevika steps back. She gives you a calculated smile before turning and grabbing her bag.
You watch Sevika leave. Eyes trained on her while Jinx makes you, fill a cup with liquid syrup, lining the inside with caramel sauce. You can’t stop thinking about the kiss when she’s gone, and the company car is no longer there. You don’t see her again, but you wait for her.
The night finally falls, and while you’re supposed to be closing with Ekko, he comes from the back, slinging his baf over his head. “So you’re just going to leave me here alone to close?” you ask, staring at Ekko.
“Sorry, but I'm supposed to be picking up Jinx from night school. I promised her, I’m… I’m really sorry, man.” He says, and there’s a guilty expression on his face that almost makes you crack up.
You roll your eyes at him, “I know. She told me this afternoon. I’m fucking with you.”
“You’re a G. Text us when you head home,” And you watch him leave into the night, while you mop the floor and clean the tables.
It’s while you’re cleaning everything that a sudden feeling of being watched hits your head. The hair on your neck stands up, and you stare outside, seeing nothing but darkness and the outline of the buildings. Paranoia seeps through you, and you practically jump when Sevika opens the door, walking inside.
Your throat clamps up, and you’re biting the inside of your cheek, fingers tightening around the mop. “Hi…you’re finished with work?” You quickly look at the machines, “Machines are off, ‘m sorry.”
She nods at your word, enjoying how nervous you get around her. “Ahh. No coffee tonight then.” She replies coolly, sitting down, spreading her legs, “How about water?”
You’re quick to drop the mop and grab a bottled water from the small fridge. The only thing you haven’t plugged off. You’re still thinking about the date and most of her words.
“Can…you walk me home today?” You bite the inside of your cheek, shuffling from foot to foot. You don’t want her to think that you can’t protect yourself, but tonight is different. “It’s just really dark…but I under–”
“Yeah,” she breathes out, pinching herself for sounding too excited. You don’t notice and beam at her, mouth hurting from how much you’re grinning at her.
“Thank you…I just have to finish cleaning, and that’s all.”
You only take a few minutes, and soon, you’re walking out of the quiet shop, while Sevika is on your side. She isn’t wearing her uniform. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, some strands falling to her face, just above her thick eyebrows. She’s in dark blue jeans, steel-toe brown boots, a white tank top stuck to her skin, and a thick jacket that makes her shoulders look even bigger.
The silence isn’t awkward, but it makes your body heat up, a certain desperation curling behind your spine with a need to hear her voice. “I don’t mind our age difference…”
Your throat bobs, and she smiles, though barely illuminated by the light around you both. “I’m nearly at the age of back pains and muscle aches.”
Her words chime in your head, and you imagine Sevika coming from work, taking off her shirt, flexing her muscles while you roll your fingers into the tension of her muscles. Slowly working them out, while she groans, each deep sound shooting straight to your cunt.
You laugh, loose and easy, focused on how close you’re walking next to her, “I say you have a couple more years to go before that happens…but if it does happen, I’m sure someone close can soothe them out.”
Sevika hums in acknowledgement, lidded eyes looking down at you, “Certainly.”
You overthink every conversation you’ve had with her, replying to her words, until you’re in front of your building. You stop, and she halts next to you. “This is me…would you like to come inside? I have to thank you for walking me home.”
“Think nothing of it, as long as you're safe.” She says with a shrug, and you catch the movement of her shoes, quickly latching your hand on her shoulder. She pauses, nearly freezing, feeling the coldness of your hand on her skin.
“Please,” You coax softly, knitting your eyebrows, “I insist.”
And Sevika holds her tongue, simply nodding. “Okay.”
You don’t have much in your apartment. It’s dodgy and small, but your own. Your keys twist, and you push the door, prying it open. Your automatic spray covers the initial scent of mildew, and your rushing inside to hide your t-shirt on the couch, and leftover bowls on the coffee table.
“Very small,” Sevika grumbles.
“Yeah, but it’s this or the streets.” You respond with a small laugh, putting down your bag on the couch. “I cooked this apple pie…really good, if you’d like some. I’ll preheat it, and take a quick shower.”
She nods, and you work around the kitchen putting the glass pan sheet inside the oven. You grab a water bottle, pop it open and hand it to her, staring at her hand until it lands on the bottle, on top of yours. Your shower is quick, lathering every inch with a flowery scented soap, until you feel clean enough.
You’ve never really tried to be sexy for someone, besides a couple of people you tried to talk to. A shitty ex and bad sex revolted you from the dating scene until Sevika. You put on a pair of black boxers that fit tight and short enough it’s snug against your ass. A sheer black lacy bra, and a complementary sheer black long rope with beige lace detailing on the sleeves and hem.
You push your nerves out, walking out to the living room, and catching Sevika in the kitchen, cutting a piece of the pie. “It’s really go–” she stops, eyes taking in your clothing, “Good. It’s really good.”
“Really? I’ve been trying new recipes as of lately, you have to try my garlic butter shrimp scampi. It’s very good,” And you tell her all that, until you’re in the kitchen, mere inches away from her, fingers itching to touch her jacket.
Sevika hums, and you reach for the fridge, grabbing the can of whipped cream, and inching toward her, shaking the can, as she looks at you, eyes darting from your eyes to your tits. “Whip cream?”
She visibly gulps, and you’re nearly on your knees, if not for her taking the can from your hand. “My doll is very hospitable.”
My doll. My doll. My doll.’
Mydoll.
Your pussy clenches around nothing. “You’re mean.” You whisper to her as the hiss of the can curls in your ear. She smiles, cheeks bubbling, and she shakes her head at your words.
“Am I? I should be telling you that,” And she stops, leaning her side on the counter, eyes staring you down. Her hand come to your robe, thumbing the lace, tracing it until it crosses to your skin, and you’re taking a deep breath, as her skin touches yours. “Dressed all pretty…”
You want her to take advantage of you–not that, that would be the correct word, given how willing you are. But you need her to touch you even through her guilt. Your hand wraps around her wrist, pulling them to your breast, until she’s got a hand grabbing it. And she squeezes, just soft enough, that a shudder crosses your spine.
Your ragged breath matches hers, and your eyes flutter open and closed, catching a look at a tent on her jeans. “I want this...you wouldn’t be taking advantage of me.”
“As if you cared if I did.” She snarls, hand disappearing to the back of your neck, as she leans down. You take a breath, feeling her tongue push into your mouth, sucking on your tongue, as she pushes you into the counter.
She licks along your teeth, moving to suck on your bottom lip, nipping at it, until you’re giving her a soft whine. Your hardened peaks rub against the soft material of your bra, and your hand curls along her jeans, touching her belt.
Your hips push into hers, the material of her belt cold against your warm skin. Each glide of her tongue against yours, as you whine, soft sighs falling until she groans, and you nearly feel her chest vibrate.
Sevika’s hand glides to your chin, cupping it as she pulls away, a line of spit connecting your lips. “Want to make that pretty mouth useful for me, doll?” She purrs, and you nod, letting her steer your body to the living room.
Coldness launches across your skin when you sink to your knees, and she sits on the couch, thighs spreading while her cock pushes into her jeans. Sevika leans back, hands on her sides, a faint red blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t move, but your shaky hands dart to her belt, while the crackle of metal sounds so loud in your ear.
You’re softly shaking, but you unhook her belt, working her buttons until they’re undone. There’s a wet patch on her briefs, and you’re so fucking needy, pushing your head to her tent, inhaling the strong scent of musk, earth and skin.
Your tongue touches her through the briefs, scraping the cotton material and salivating on it, while Sevika sighs into the air. You pull back, pushing her boxers down, letting her cock spring out, and her stomach twitches as you run a hand across her jean-clad thigh.
The tip of her cock gleams with wetness, pouring from the angry red slit, and a thick patch of curly hair surrounds her cock. You lick the head, delivering small kitten licks across while you have a hand on her shaft, and the other settles on her thigh.
Her salty taste curls across your taste buds, and you pull back, tongue switching to lap at her balls, sucking on one until a deep groan pours from her mouth, while specks of hair scrape against your skin. “That’s it, doll. Should’ve fucked your mouth…this afternoon.”
You lick up to the shaft, wrapping a hand around the head as you swirl your tongue on the cockhead. Spit darts from your mouth, and your eyes shoot up to her as your hand coats it all over her shaft. Sevika’s bottom lip is etched between her teeth, and her chest heaves up and down, while you slowly slip her inside your mouth, hand still working, pumping up and down.
A loud moan curls from her throat, and her hips buck into your mouth, pressing so fucking deep, until she’s occupying every inch of your mouth. You can’t take much of her, she’s too fucking big, but you work her through, cupping her ball, and hollering your cheeks.
Her hand grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing you off her cock, spit drilling down your chin. And she’s breathing heavily, eyes lidded and blown. “Open.”
Your tongue darts out, mouth open, and she’s smirking, ends of her lips curling as she slaps her cock on your tongue. Every rational thought has swooped out of your brain, lusting, curling along the ridges of your brain. “Maybe I should take you to work, have you be my little desk pet…keep your mouth full, and head empty, would you like that, baby?”
Your head bobs up and throws, eyes gone, tongue still out as spit accumulates and slides from the end of the muscle. You fear you won’t be able to live without the taste of Sevika’s cock on your tongue, and she knows this, because she’s grinning like she’s just won the fucking lottery.
And she leans closer to you, hand still gripping a fist full of your hair, until she’s pulling just enough that it makes you moan, needy and high-pitched. Her cock twitches, “Please,” You gasp wetly, “fuc–fuck my...mouth.”
“You’ll need to earn it.” Her boots push in between your thigh, the end of it touching your cunt, just slightly. “Go on.”
Humiliation rattles through your bones, and you straddle the boot, pressing your chin on her kneecap, digging into the meat of her knee. Your hands wrap around her leg, pressing yourself down, focused on the tendrils of pleasure as you press all the way down. “Feels…good. So so go–good.”
You try to ride her boot, gasping at the light pressure against your folds, nails digging into the texture of her jeans. It’s infuriating how the pleasure curls against your spine, then fizzes away, every time Sevika moves her boot, purposely trying to see you writhe against her leg.
“Sev…” You whimper, eyes fluttering open, and you’re completely focused on the pleasure, drooling on Sevika’s jeans, to pay attention to your system. You work in motions, eyes in and out of focus, sometimes watching Sevika’s smile.
“Doesn’t it feel good, Doll?” She rasps, and you can see her cock twitch against the white tank top, while your tongue salivates, and small tremors rip against your skin. “Just a little more…I won’t touch your pretty cunt until you’ve left a print on my boot.”
And she finally presses her boot against your cunt, with the right amount of pressure pressed against your clit that has you moaning, eyebrows knitted, and cunt clenching. Your legs burn, hips bucking into her boot, while you’re slipping into a soft headspace, trying to keep your mind afloat.
Sevika makes it so difficult, petting your hair while precum coats her cock, and she’s whispering sweet praises at you. “My pretty doll, stick your tongue out, doll.”
A condescending laugh rings across your fuzzy brain, and she’s watching spit pool down, until two fingers glide inside your mouth. You clamp down, lips wrapping around her thick fingers, and she’s pushing inside, feeling the rough pad of your tongue on her fingers.
Your hips stutter, stomach twitching as warmth slowly pours along your flesh, and you’re louder and louder, hips grinding your clit down with intensity while trying to choke on her fingers. Spit dribbles down the corner of your mouth, licking her and tasting the saltiness of her flesh.
“That’s it,” Sevika whispers, “Keep fucking yourself on my boot. Isn’t this what you wanted? To fuck yourself on an old pervert like me.”
Lighting strikes across your spine, and you clamp down, hips jerking as you cum on her boot, a high-pitched mewl making your chest vibrate. Your body melts against her leg, the aftershock of your orgasm making your clit twitch. Your mind is fuzzy, slipping and sliding across the pleasure, drinking in Sevika. “So good for me…you deserve a reward for that.”
“Need,” You rasp, throat dry, and she moves her hand to the bottle on the coffee table. The liquid slides down your throat, freshening your hot flesh. “Ple–please…need yo–you in my mouth.”
Her hands wrap around your wrist, stopping you from reaching her cock. You’re all fucked out on her legs, breathing heavily, begging for her cock, and Sevika is close to cumming. Because this feels exactly like one of her many wet dreams, yet you pout at her, pupils dilated, “Please.”
And she’s so fucking weak for you, letting go of your wrist and leaning back down to the couch, as your lips attach to the head of her cock. Each action is done clumsily, too needy, yet Sevika holds in her sanity, fingers gripping the couch, as you suck on the head of her cock, lidded eyes staring at her.
It’s as if the last measure of embarrassment left your system, leaving nothing but need and want. Your hand reach for Sevika’s, pushing it to your head, and her hips buck, drowning you in her cock, until halfway in, and the head reaches just an inch away from the back of your throat.
You keen at each of her groans and deep moans, filling your ear and the air. It’s blinding, how much you need her, when you finally pull off with a deep breath, spit circles her cockhead, attaching it to your mouth. “Just a little more…” Sevika murmurs, pushing you back on her cock, all the way down, until the oxygen in your brain slowly depletes, and you feel her everywhere, eyes rolling back.
Your hips flex, pushing down, searching for some relief for the ache building in your pussy. Your body goes lax, hands lying on your side, while Sevika moans, keeping your head down on her cock as she twitches around your throat.
When she pulls you off, your eyes are unfocused, pawing at her knees, whimpering, and she gets off on it, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make you feel better.” She croons.
Sevika pulls the robe off your body, scooping you off the floor and into her arms. You press kisses across her cheek, down her neck, licking and nipping at her skin, trying to make it red. She drops you on the bed, letting you softly bounce, before she shrugs off her clothing, letting the clink of her belt hit the floor.
Your eyes rake over Sevika’s body, mouth watering at her brown, hard peaks, and how her cock twitches, curving to the left. “You’re a pervert…trying to undress me,” You whine out, meekly trying to cover your body, as Sevika crawls to you, “You’re taking advantage of me.”
“Am I?” She purrs, and there’s a short flash of guilt as you look at her with your pretty-does eyes, breath shallow, and spit slowly drying in the corner of your mouth. She’s going to defile you, like she’s done to the lacy underwear she’s taken from your drawers. Not that you need to know. “Tell me to stop.”
Sevika’s hands reach for your shorts, slowly pulling them down, waiting for you to push her off, or for the words to hit her eardrum, yet you watch, helping her pull them down, heat rising to your chest as a slick connects your pussy to the shorts. The warmth of Sevika’s skin makes you shudder, and you’re reaching for her tits as she rams her mouth on yours, and it’s all teeth and tongue–unlike the kisses you’ve had before.
Filthy, wet and noisy, pulling little whines out of you while she groans into your mouth. “Months of dre–dreaming of you…fucking me,” You whimper, against Sevika’s mouth, a little hazy, from the pleasure.
“Really?” Sevika asks, as if she’s bewildered by the idea of you dreaming of her. You nod eagerly as she lowers her lips to your jaw, kissing and breathing you in.
Her tongue licks the sweat on your flesh, nipping the skin, until you’re whining, and each breath sounds punched out. “Don’t worry…I’ll give you the real thing.”
She keeps going lower, kissing along your chest until her mouth is on one of your hardened peaks, and you gasp, feeling her suckle on it. Her tongue twirls, her other hand coming to pinch and play with your other nipple, making your clit twitch. “Sev…”
You squirm in the sheets, feet softly kicking, and Sevika takes her time, rotating between your tits, until they’re puffy and sensitive, a single touch making you moan and whimpers. Her teeth graze at the peak, softly biting them, and it makes your stomach swoop with heat. Your cunt pulses, the aching feeling becoming unbearable, yet your brain melts.
You can barely utter words, too entranced in the pleasure, until Sevika’s away, and she’s back to trailing kisses along the bottom of your tits. She reaches your naval, nose pressing into a thick patch of hair, and she moves down and down, until she’s breathing against your pussy. A little whine pours from your mouth when her fingers dip down, pulling your wet folds apart, watching slick coat your pussy.
“You’re dripping, aching for someone to touch you?” Sevika coos, “All needy for me,” and you shut your eyes, nodding dumbly, until Sevika’s tongue licks your clit. You try your hardest not to clamp your thighs, but she’s pressing her face in and in, sucking the swollen, pulsing bud.
A loud whimper bounces on the wall, making Sevika groan, and the vibrations curl against your spine, making your hip buck into her mouth.
“Fuc–fuck, sev…sev, feels–” Your mouth tumbles over the words, as Sevika licks deeper into you, flattening her tongue, and licking from your sopping hole to your needy clit. She hums to every one of your reactions, fucking you with her tongue, then fluidly moving to suck on the bud.
A filthy squelch rings in your eardrum, and Sevika’s hand on your hip disappears into your legs. Your eyes rush to see her, yet she’s focused on your pleasure, eyes closed as a finger slides so fucking easily inside you, you barely feel it until it curls, pressing that spot.
You moan, loud and whiny, blinking back tears, while she quietly slips another finger in, curling them both and fucking into the spongy spot. “Nnng, har–harder, please. Please…” you hiccup, hand flying to grip Sevika’s short hair, trying to press down. “‘m clo–close.”
Your vision blurs, fat tears rolling down freely, and Sevika savors your pussy, assaulting your clit, until warm spreads across your stomach, and your muscles are tightening. Your pussy clenches against her fingers, and she continues pressing them in, sliding and out of your walls, then curling them.
Heat pools in your lower back, muscles burning, until everything jolts and your eyes are crossing, waves of pleasure rolling through your system. Your spine lifts from the bed, foot pressing down, indenting the mattress, until it feels too much. Your cunt spasms, and your body softly twitches, until Sevika pulls away, chin wet.
“Did so good for me,” She whispers, kissing your cheek, leaving a trail of wetness on your cheek. You lean up to kiss her, whining into her mouth as she pries you open with her tongue. You can faintly taste yourself on her tongue, and it’s filthy. “So pretty, like this…all fucked out and crying.”
Sevika pulls away from your mouth, a hand gripping your waist, and the other slapping her cock against the skin of your stomach. “Big…”
Sevika smirks, moving her hips until she’s grinding her cock against your wet pussy, mixing in your slick with her precum. She’s dripping, balls full, trying to keep her composure, while he presses the head against your clit, grinding on it. Your feet kick, hips twitching from slight overstimulation. “You’ll be my good doll, and fit it in, won’t you?” She groans, fingers tightening her grip on your waist.
You hum, clutching the bed sheet, nodding dumbly, trying to slip her inside you. “Please,” and Sevika finally presses the head inside you. A whimper falls from your lips, and Sevika bucks her hips, forcing herself into you.
“Breathe, doll,” She murmurs, big hands slipping to the back of your thighs, folding them, and pressing them just close enough to feel the heat of your own skin against your stomach.
She leaves you in that position, and you don’t move, not even when she has only one hand on the back of your thigh, and the other reaching down you pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles, slowly inching inside you. The feeling of fullness makes you delirious.
“Sev…mo–more,” Your words slur, brain working too slow to form a proper thought. And when she finally presses all the way inside, you whimper. Your cunt feels so fucking stretched out, and you’re sure you’re dripping.
“I know, doll,” she coaxes, “I know…don’t worry, ‘m going to break you in until you can’t fuck anyone but me.” Her hips buck, finally moving in a slow, languid pace, then picking up speed until her hips are hitting the flesh of your ass.
Your pussy sletches, wet sounds making you even more fucking aroused, because it’s almost as if your cunt is speaking to her. “Fas–faster.”
And Sevika snarls, fast thrusts, rocking you forward into the bed, making your tits bounce with every movement, while you’re taking big breaths, each moan and whimper punched out. “Your pussy is swallowing me in,” she groans, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Goosebumps spread across your skin, and you’re clenching around Sevika, eyes unfocused but taking in her beauty. Sweaty body, and the strands of hair sticking to her forehead as her lidded eyes watch her cock disappear inside you.
Little ah, ah, ahs spill out of your mouth, nails digging into the mattress, until heat curls in your spine, you feel too stupid to worry about the spit dribbling at the corner of your mouth. You’re addicted–will be addicted, because Sevika is fucking you like she’s imagined this a million times, and mapped exactly where to buck into.
The head of cock shifts, plunging into that spot again, leaving you breathless, and so so fucking floaty. Small hiccups leave your lips, and tears stream down your cheek, smudging in the small dashes of eyeliner, leaving a faint black smudge of tears. Sevika looks up, and she moans seeing how wrecked you look for her.
“Squeezing me…so tight,” Sevika moans, “What is it, baby? Want me to fill you up?” And she gasps, feeling you tighten again around her cock. Jackpot. Your back arches, cunt pulsing, head swimming in the thought of Sevika filling up your belly, leaving some of her inside you.
“Nngg ye–yes,” You gasp, “Inside…inside.”
Your body trembles, thigh muscles shaking until you can see your skin twitch, and Sevika’s so fuckiing loud, damn near in your groaning and moaning at the pace of your own whiny, high-pitched mewls. “Come…come stay with me. Move in with me,” Sevika breathes out, “Be my wife…my…my pretty bride. C’mon, say you’ll come with, and I’ll let you cum.”
Oh, god.
Your eyes roll, nodding and nodding, trying to make small coherent yes’s and only babbling, but Sevika sees. And she grins, mouth wide, pushing in deeper and faster, until your nerves are on fire, and hypersensitive, body tightening.
Your toes spread out into the air, and your pussy gushes on Sevika’s cock, coating it in clear liquid. A choked sob rings in the air, and you feel drunk and high at the same time, as flashes of your ceiling and Sevika’s face cross your eyes. Every muscle in your body seizes, and a deep, guttural groan rings, until you feel so so fucking full.
Sevika empties herself inside you, teeth reaching down to your calf, etching into your skin until pain shoots through your spine. When she pulls away, there’s a mark, and she's still fucking into you, riding her own high and fucking yours out, until you’re twitching.
Your mind is pliant and fuzzy, body lax on the body, while every move is in slow motion, in and out of view. A long moment of silence passes, and your body is still shuddering, thigh twitching, brain slowly coming to work. Soreness picks at your skin, and you suddenly feel empty, too empty. “Need to clean you, doll.” A voice murmurs next to your ear.
After a beat, you’re cold, and your eyes finally flutter open, while Sevika is wiping you down. She’s radiating, pupils blown, with a hazy smile on her lips. Her eyes snap to yours, and she leans down to press a kiss on your stomach, then on your forehead, “My sweet doll, so perfect. So good for me. ‘m gonna take care of you.”
“You…bit me?” You gasp out, and she darts to the waterbottle on the nightstand, lifting your head, until you’re drinking in small sips. Your insides cool, and Sevika’s still staring at you, a little unfocused and wild.
She hums, “Yeah. You belong to me now. You’ll live with me…sleep with me, shower with me.” And her words are so soft, yet firm to the point they rattle your bones, making you sink into the bed. “You said yes.”
You aren’t sure of what to do. Somehow your brain can’t come up with any scenarios in which you’re apart from Sevika, and it feels so, so suffocating, and exhilarating, you’re crying again. Sevika croons at you, hand wrapping around your chin, licking your tear, “Shh…don’t cry, doll. I can’t have my wife crying…now, tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” You whimper, voice faltering, a shiver running down your spine. “Belong to you, and only you. ‘m your wife.”
You do move out of your shitty apartment, somewhere near Moonbuck. It’s sort of a hazy memory, the way Sevika inserts herself into your life, like she’s meant to be there by divine or human intervention. Like she’s etched her place beside you, and glued you to her skin.
You find your ‘lost’ panties a month into moving with her, and she doesn’t deny anything, and you don’t fight about it. But again, it’s not like you’re able to when she shoves them in your mouth and bends you over the counter, recounting every detail about how she protected you, her pretty barista, throughout those months.
a/n: 8.3k words again lol, I love when my work gets a little longer cause it makes me feel a little proud!! But I hope the smut makes up for the background info lol !! ty for reading :P
♡₊˚ ──── 2.8k . coworker!ellie x femme!reader . reader is tired & lonely & annoyed & done with the world , ellie has the magical ability to turn u into a shy subby mess , ellie is also really annoying , praise kink , oral sex & fingering ꒰ r.rec ! ꒱, dacryphilia , vv mild degradation & condescending praises , like . . . undertones . . . of dumbification / babying , cuddling & aftercare <3
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 . . . ౨ৎ part two of coworker!ellie, requested by a lovely nonnie <3
"can i go to bed early tonight? or should i be expecting another midnight text?"
your narrowed sideways glance at ellie reveals her widening smirk. you hang your head low, a soft sigh falling from your lips. the last thing you need at this moment is that expression on her face. you absolutely don't need the conflicting feelings it arises in you, like the sour irritation and the mortifying need. there's a tightness in your chest, aching away at this very moment.
the worst part is that the ache doesn't leave when ellie does.
maybe, it even gets worse. seeing her now, at the end of the workday with her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, you wish she were doing anything but reminding you about last night on her way out the door.
every excuse you can think of is flimsy, and you've tried all day to pretend she isn't right when she accuses you of being sad and lonely at home.
"well— i had a genuine question," you mutter, more defeated now.
there was a moment of weakness last night — at exactly eleven minutes past twelve — your thumbs slowly, delicately caressed each letter of her name on your phone's keyboard, and hit send. and it was not until the haziness had finally disappeared fifteen minutes later that you realised how strange it is to text somebody their own name and nothing else. how strange it is for you to ask for someone.
almost like you needed her.
embarrassment clung to you immediately, and you of course attempted to wave it off by asking her something work related, but the damage was done.
ellie was amused.
thankfully, she doesn't have your perspective.
if she knew what was really going on in that hour, you aren't sure what she'd do. if she had your perspective, and knew what you did to yourself with her name in mind, and if she saw the messages you drafted but never sent to her, she would have some grandiose reaction, though you aren't sure in what way.
"i know you're a hard worker, darling, but you weren't actually sitting on excel at midnight, were you? you know you can talk to me if you're lonely . . . i'm actually kinda nice to talk to, in fact."
ellie's voice grows closer, but you refuse to look up from your desk, and you're still surprised when her hand suddenly moves slowly over your shoulder.
"don't be a stranger. just remember that."
there's that tightness around your heart again, combined with the not-so-subtle movement of your thighs pushing together. ellie's hand pauses then, very suddenly, and you feel heat rising from your lower stomach and all the way into your face. the office clock ticks away in the silence until she takes a very slow, deep, intentional breath and pulls away, your neck tingling in the wake of her presence.
you could have melted right there. and it seems like she knows that.
not once have you taken up ellie's offer of sending a text when you feel lonely. you haven't slipped up once in the weeks since that day, you've been as strong as you can — unfortunately, the more you've tried to stonewall her, the shakier your resolve has become. it's weakened you more than anything.
it's more than wanting to text ellie now. it's turned into nights of hovering over the call button. these sleepless nights have only further contributed to your hopeless need, making it harder to pretend you don't want to give in. ellie doesn't have to push hard. every offer she makes, you come closer to taking it.
five o'clock hits. you should be packing up right now so you can beat the rush on public transport. but ellie always lingers after work and lately, you don't want to be the first one to leave the office.
and with you not even trying to look busy, it's stupidly obvious what you're doing.
you jump to attention as a hand waves in front of your face, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lighting.
"you've been staring at your computer this long, and haven't even noticed the screensaver pop up . . ?"
"no, i'm . . . i'm meditating."
"ah, right." ellie chuckles. "of course you were — and i'm sure you must be feeling very zen right now, considering it looks to me like you were 'meditating' all day. you weren't slackin' off, were you? i mean . . ."
you flinch the moment she makes contact with your upper back, hand resting over your blouse. you know she notices — she seems to hesitate for a short moment before resuming the trail she was taking to the back of your neck. like she knows how delicate this matter is; like she's learned that you need a gradual introduction to her power and to avoid startling you.
when she continues to push the limits and test how far she can take her teasing, it gets easier for her to do so. a month ago, you might've slapped her hand away. what tells ellie she's got you now is the slow turn of your head, your eyes not narrowed, for once, but doe-like; looking up at her standing form with need simmering inside.
you deflate, body battling between the urges of shrinking into yourself and melting against her. the touch, warm and comforting, guiding and gentle, does not match the judgement on her face. her lips are sewn together in a straight line as her eyes tear you apart, and you freeze the moment they catch yours.
"i wasn't," you mumble. it's pathetic, but it's all you can say through the dryness of your throat.
"yeah, i mean, something's definitely wrong if i'm doing more work than you for once. so i sure hope you're alright . . ."
"you did not do more work than me." you try to scoff, the sound coming quiet and disjointed as you look away from ellie. "mind your business."
"your business is my business. we work together. dummy." she laughs. her hand leaves your neck, not before giving one last light squeeze. and you miss the touch, regrettably. "i was gonna say i don't mind picking up some of your slack, actually, along with some other stuff — you know, like compliments. might keep that to myself now, since you don't wanna hear it."
"well— n-no. 'm a big girl, i don't need you to tell me i'm doing a good job."
you stand, heels digging into the carpet as you finally kick into gear and begin to gather your items.
"i'm sure." ellie leans back, her hips against your desk, still leering at you with investigative eyes. "didn't mean to piss you off."
"well, you did."
"yeah. i'm getting that."
you can still feel those eyes on you. around you. under your skin. in your clothes.
and the air is cold, one side of your bed empty as always. the goosebumps on your bare shoulders leave you so much more vulnerable to thinking about ellie.
she's worked hard on getting you to this point — though, she didn't have to try this hard, honestly, you've been struggling to keep your feelings at bay for a long time now — and yet, you're still shocked when your phone pings and her name is on the screen.
at nine o'clock.
ellie: i think you should know i'm serious when i ask you to call me if you need anything.
the words blur, the bright screen in the dark of your room burning your eyes. those aren't tears. well . . . they were tears, but you rub them out quickly.
another message slides onto the screen before you even think to reply.
ellie: and i didn't mean to be so condescending earlier. you're really tricky to figure out. you won't take compliments. can't you make this a little easy for me?
you let out a deep breath, practically throwing your phone against the mattress in defeat. what does she want from you? is it the same as what you crave from her?
will this complicate things?
giving in is the easiest thing you have done in years. hitting the call button takes zero effort.
"yes, darlin'?" she answers quickly, the satisfied smirk on her face audible down the line. it doesn't irritate you as much as it does arouse you.
everything flies out quite suddenly, surprising both yourself and ellie, but you can't stop. and the more you speak, the more relief you feel.
"it's just— you're really annoying. like, really annoying. and i worked so hard to get this fucking position just to deal with you distracting me all the time. i can't get a grip. i've been so good at never needing anybody and then you— you."
the covers fly off your body as you get out of bed, beginning to pace the halls of your home, and your rant continues as you only get more heated.
"you know exactly what you're doing. and it is cruel. what, were you born with the ability to read minds or something? do you think it's funny embarrassing me the way you do? i don't need— i don't want your praise. i don't want you to handle things for me. so why? why do you keep trying?"
silence fills the space you were hoping ellie would speak in. and that absence of her voice feels so agonising.
and finally, you give in. for real, this time.
calling her was the first step. that was a test of temperature, just the tips of your toes touching the water. now you are going to jump in.
"i think the most frustrating thing is that you have waited this long for me," you mumble. "y'know that just makes me feel like being even more stubborn. it makes me need you in the worst way."
"in what way? talk."
you purse your lips together, leaning against a wall.
"i need you," you say. your voice trembles. "i need you to fuck me. i need you because . . . i just need everything to go away, all the work stuff and the news and everyone outside, 'n i know you could do it. you make it feel like it's just us."
as you take a breath to keep going, she cuts in.
"i see, darlin'. let me come do that for you. we'll fix it."
"i just need a hug," you say, breathless. the prospect of ellie coming to save you doesn't scare you anymore. it livens you.
you get that hug. as soon as her knuckles meet your door, you open up and take her with open arms. you get that hug and you get even more than that, as ellie makes good on all her promises.
kisses. tender pecks from plump lips, on yours and your body. kisses in places that lips haven't ventured in years, hands surprising you with leisurely touches; no rush at all, but lots of appreciation.
"please be nice to me," you whisper, with no choice but to rest your hands on her shoulders, caged in against the wall. your fingers grasp at her white blouse, heartbeat in your ears.
"i am nice," ellie scoffs, pinching your waist. "i'll be nice. i've got you, don't worry anymore. don't think. just don't. i'll take it from here."
her hand rises to your cheek, cradling so gently that you feel like collapsing. you might've if she weren't here, holding you.
"i— okay." you nod meekly, no longer avoiding her eyes. "okay."
"good girl. good. the only thing you need to do right now is show me to the bedroom, yeah?"
ellie's practically taken your independence and made it drip out of you. being docile feels so much safer. nodding your head and holding her hand up the stairs feels comfortable.
"this is a pretty little slip," she comments, pinching the silk hem between her fingertips and lightly tugging from behind. "do you always wear things like this?"
"oh, yeah . . . i, um, i like 'em."
"makes you feel as hot as you look?"
you shy away, a change in your usual demeanour that is so welcome to ellie. it's adorable.
in the doorway to your room, her hand on your hip pulls you against her side, and her lips graze your blistering temple.
"let's lay you down."
you climb onto your bed, the mattress dipping below your weight. ellie follows shortly after, catching your lips with hers on the way down and helping you settle amid your pillows.
it doesn't feel scary. her cold fingers gliding across your bare stomach, pushing up the nightie, even giving your breasts a light and experimental squish, it's not even a little disturbing. you'd sworn off letting someone have you like this. but you trust ellie. it feels so easy to.
"that's right, just let me take care of you," she murmurs, crawling in between your legs. cool air hits your pussy as she pulls your panties to the side, ellie whispering a curse at the little twitches of your body and the shimmer of your wet skin. "fuck. poor thing, how long have you been this fucking needy for?"
you shrug, pulling your lip between your teeth over the mere sight between your thighs — the tip of her nose brushes over your pelvis, the softest of kisses laid upon your clit. it's nothing, yet your head falls back onto your pillow, your hand curls into a weak fist at your side.
you feel her chuckle against your skin, the sound gravelly. "oh, you're real cute, huh? you're as sensitive as a first timer."
you try to shake your head, not defiant, but shy, and ellie places her hand over your fist, holding tight.
"relax for me, baby. m'gonna treat you good."
wet warmth envelops your cunt, her tongue trailing up and down in a slow, precise manner. it leaves you gasping, voice a little hoarse. when she focuses quick flicks over your clit, thick tears clump in your lashes, caught before you can blink them away. she eyes you from below, hooded gaze drinking you in.
"awwh, baby . . . " she sighs, a smile in her tone. "don't look away!"
"mm, i can't look," you whimper in a mousy voice.
there's something renewed in her efforts down below, her head tilting to rest on your inner thigh as she sucks and kisses your swollen bud — making out with your pussy — almost desperate to see those shiny eyes of yours again.
"you fucking taste so sweet," she groans, her thumb running languid circles over your clit as she speaks. "look at me. you want me to keep going?"
you whine her name, hands tensing as you hold back the instinct to hide your face away. but she earns back the view of your begrudging, anxious face quickly contorting into pleasure yet again. and those eyes, welling up so easily . . .
she doesn't want to be too mean — well, she did swear she's nice earlier, and she needs that to remain true — but you haven't let go of enough yet.
and then you blink, and you look away again, and she can't make cruel demands too many times . . .
so, ellie sits up. her calloused fingertips prod at your entrance, hitching your breath instantly. "i think you need this instead, yeah? fast, babe?"
you fidget and flit, a high moan escaping you while you adjust to the filling of your cunt. and she isn't fast . . . until you open your mouth again, trying to speak.
you shriek, heavy pants falling out of your mouth as ellie thrusts her long fingers into you roughly, brushing over deep, spongey places you couldn't ever reach on your own.
"o-oh my god," you whimper, attempting to cover your face, to hide again from her stupid, evil, attractive smile.
but you can't. not with her leaning over you. her forearm digs into your stomach, keeping you in place and increasing the intensity of her every touch.
"good? tell me about it, darlin'."
"it's good," you say pathetically. not a single sound from your lips is controlled, a far cry from your typical self. "s-so good, m'so good. ellie, mmm— please, please."
"please what?" she prompts, fake sympathy dripping off the words, barely audible beneath the lewd squelching of your pussy. "what do you need?"
"you," you sob. when did the tears start to stream down your cheeks? you never noticed 'til she kissed one away, too busy babbling and thrashing in her grip. "i just need you, ellie, it's so good and i should'a never pretended otherwise b-because—"
"i know, baby," she coos, and that's when the pressure is too much for you, an intense orgasm washing over your body. she keeps you restrained, only stopping to wipe all those pretty tears away when you start to shiver. "shh, i know. so proud of you."
your panties cover you once more, her hand fixing them back in place with a gentle pat over your cunt. all you do is lay your head upon her shoulder, eyes too heavy to open, be it from all the emotions or post-sex exhaustion hitting you like a freight train.
"you are a good girl," ellie murmurs, rolling onto her back with you in her arms. "i'll tell you that as many times as i have to."
warnings - swearing. fluff!! established relationship (ellie x afab!reader). nsfw themes (minors and men dni). elle does headcanons in 2026?? notes at the end <3!
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that you had a classic friends to lovers transition with. Ellie develops crushes based on familiarity and comfortability, so she fell for you steadily as your friendship progressed.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie with cheeks that turn red every time you say "my girl." It usually causes her to duck her head. She might roll her eyes or mumble under her breath sometimes when the small phrase falls from your lips, but she never protests it.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that essentially pools her resources together with your own. Her things, as in books, games, music... Ellie's stuff is sacred, but since you're dating, she obviously trusts you. She's got a really decent collection of things, considering the fact that things of her interest aren't always plentiful to scavenge. You share your stuff with her, too—both of your collections expanding with time.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie holds your hand while she goes down on you.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that's sweet about eating you out, albeit greedy. Physical touch begins to shine as one of Ellie's love languages once she's settled into the routine of the relationship. That being said, her hands are always palming, grasping. If she's not squeezing your hand while working you over with her tongue, she's kneading your thigh. Something about watching your skin ripple under her touch just gets her.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie isn’t possessive or clingy, but she orbits you. You both orbit each other—in a sense that you’re aware of the other person’s space in addition to your own. Her eyes will always find you in a room, and as do yours.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie spends a lot of time with you just hanging around her converted garage. If the two of you had a lack of responsibilities, you could spend days just watching movies or listening to music together.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie isn't reserved around you, so you get all of her crooked grins and loud, sudden bursts of laughter.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that—despite the ease with which she occasionally moves—has the hardest time relaxing her form when she is on the receiving end during sex. Her fidgety fingers are always reaching and grasping for something—her brows furrowed and stomach clenching. She just feels a lot, like her body never knows what to do with it all.
Short puffs of air would fall shakily from her chapped lips, her entire face just scrunching.
"Oh, shit. F-fuck. Fuckin' yeah, babe—"
"Dude, baby, breathe," you would say, only ever earning an unamused sound from the other girl.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that also uses "dude" and "babe" interchangeably.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that doesn't just glance over you once or twice whenever the two of you might share a patrol shift, but instead glances over you like, four times. Whenever you split apart even just by a few feet, she looks over a few times to make sure that you're set and okay before she focuses on her own task. She trusts you, and knows that you're capable, but it's just one of those things for her. If you're good, she's good. Looking out for each other is just part of the routine—not just because it's essential to patrol, but because the two of you are able to fall into such a comfortable rhythm together.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie is literally so easy to talk to. Seconds frequently turn into minutes and those minutes turn into hours whenever the two of you are able to just be without any distractions, as you can talk about anything and everything. She's actually a really good storyteller.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that claims to be the master of absolutely anything. Any skill you can possibly think of, she's putting master at the end of it as her own official title. If you try to jokingly disagree, you get a pshh and she'll literally just walk away before you can claim otherwise.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie despises the occasions in which you team up with Jesse to annoy her. Sometimes you're able to get to her so quickly. She'll mostly just catch an attitude with Jesse though, and try to supress a faint smile when you start to pepper her cheeks with kisses.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that genuinely cannot seem to detach her lips away from your skin when the two of you are alone. Again, she's not necessarily clingy, but she has moods. You're soft and warm—she can't help it.
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie says swear words like she's paid in trading cards to do it. Not even just when she's upset or frustrated or anything, they just tumble from her tongue. You often catch her swearing under her breath whenever she talks to herself, too. (Which, is like... a lot.)
» ཐིཋྀ gf!ellie that didn't change much after your relationship went from best friends to girlfriends—it's just that she got more touchy and more vulnerable. You’re still best friends, just with lots and lots (and lots!) of kissing.
notes - okay now go read orbiter LMAO
jkjk but idk why every time i post something serious, i feel like i need to follow it with something lighthearted, and vice versa. orbiter is my current pride and joy though i must admit, i've missed writing canon ellie.
anyway!! i know i've been neglecting my requests lately, and for that i'm sorry. i've gotten quite a few for just general headcanons and how i think ellie would be in a relationship, so!
i did get a few requests lately that i thought were super cute, so i'm gonna work a bit on those as i edit some old drafts to post??? ok bye
<3
Everyone outside the hotel thinks they know you. They know the stage persona, the voice, the eyeliner, the way you destroy yourself on stage night after night. But only Vi knows what happens after the lights go out—how your hands shake after concerts, how exhausted you really are, how badly you need someone to hold you together before you completely fall apart.
tags: explicit sexual content (18+), rockstar au, singer!reader, guitarist!Vi, tribbing, pussy grinding, clit stimulation, nipple play, biting, spitting, finger sucking, weed smoking, praise and teasing, emotional intimacy, soft dom Vi.
The bathroom in your hotel room smells like weed, steam, and your shampoo. The hot water runs down your body like punishment, barely any pressure behind it, but you’re grateful for every drop anyway because tonight’s show was a slaughterhouse, too many people, too much noise, too much of everything. The microphone still vibrates in your hands even though it’s been two hours since you walked offstage, your throat feels scraped raw from screaming down to your guts, your makeup running because you couldn’t even bother taking it off before the shower, and your thighs ache from jumping under the stage lights. Nobody prepared you for this, for this animal devotion, the roar, the pressure of being the band’s singer, of making every show more epic than the last even while you’re falling apart inside. Outside the hotel there are probably another hundred, another thousand fans, all convinced you’re some untouchable goddess and not a wreck of a human being who hasn’t slept properly in six months.
The only thing you have is Vi. Vi, with her razor-cut hair dyed by you, tattooed arms and easy laugh, waiting for you in bed like you’re the center of gravity of the whole fucking universe. She’s completely naked, legs spread, with that hungry look she never loses. There’s a joint between her teeth and she watches you, impatient and amused, while you walk out of the bathroom, barely drying yourself off, naked all the way to the bed where she’s already turned the lights off. Without saying anything, you throw yourself on top of her, crush her under your wet body, and she takes you in laughing, kissing you slow enough that it feels like slow motion. Vi holds the back of your neck, plays with your lips while her hands slide down your back to your ass, squeezing you and pulling you higher against her.
“You know what killed me today?” Vi asks, pulling back from the kiss, voice rough from cigarettes and screaming.
“What?”
“When you hit that high note a few hours ago. I thought your throat was gonna split in half.”
“I almost threw up,” you answer with a laugh, pressing your forehead to hers. “How’s your hand holding up?”
Vi lifts it, flexing her knuckles, all bruised and dry-skinned from the chords. “It’ll fall off on its own eventually. I’m letting it.”
You kiss her hand and look back up at her eyes, not before stopping at her lips first, of course. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t stop you. Vi is always willing when it comes to you, no matter how crazy or ridiculously romantic it is. Taking advantage of that, you keep kissing lower, tracing a path to her middle finger, sucking it gently. Vi sighs at the heat of your mouth, your tongue around her finger, and decides to push her ring finger in too, grabbing your chin so she can talk.
“You know there’s an afterparty, right?” she says quietly, pulling her fingers from your mouth even though she doesn’t want to, just to hear your answer.
You nod. “I don’t give a shit about the afterparty,” you admit. To you, one more party or one less never meant much anyway. It’s all the same in the end. “I’m good here.”
“You sure you’d rather have this than a party with music, food, alcohol?” she asks in that low, dirty voice.
“Mm.” You murmur against her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, soft and lazy, teasing her with a small bite that makes her grab the back of your neck. “You’re better than all that, Violet.”
Vi laughs, flips you over in one sharp movement and leaves you underneath her, her thigh wedged between yours. She leans down, kneading your tits, staring at them like they’re something precious, or like she likes to call them, “her stress balls.” She licks one nipple hungrily, moaning before you even do, enjoying this as much as you, maybe more. Vi takes her time, sucking each nipple one by one, biting right at the edge of pain. She talks with her mouth still against your skin.
“We could be on a yacht right now,” she says, “But you want a stiff bed and hotel sex.”
You pull her hair back and stare into her dark, burning blue eyes.
“You can leave if you want,” you reply, pretending not to care while partly daring her to do it. With a glance, you point at the faint smoke still rising from the joint she abandoned on the nightstand. “Give it to me.”
Vi brings it to her mouth, takes a long drag, then parts your lips with her thumb and blows the smoke into your throat while kissing you. You choke a little, the burn sliding down your chest, your mind starting to float while your hands move on their own, desperate, touching Vi’s body like she’s liquid, like every inch of her skin is charged with static electricity.
Vi lowers her hand to your cunt, just playing, like she could torture you mercilessly all night long. Her finger gets bolder, stroking between your lips where she finds wetness. She laughs under her breath.
“You’re sick,” she mocks. “Concerts turn you on?”
“You turn me on, idiot.”
Now it’s your turn. You slip your hand between her legs and rub her clit with practiced rhythm, pressing slow circles, feeling the heat build while Vi curves toward you, mouth at your ear, breathing hard.
“Come on, doll, I know you love making me cum. Do it,” she begs, and the fragility in her voice catches you off guard.
You answer with the same touch, picking up the pace without going too fast, searching for the exact spot that makes her shake. Vi kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulders, biting everything she can until you feel marked and feral. Before letting her enjoy your fingers too much, you switch positions, climbing on top of her, pressing your pelvis against hers until your cunts line up, heat and slick mixing together, your clits searching for each other.
It’s slow at first, just brushing, grinding, feeling the pulse of your bodies and the sway of your hips, sticky skin sliding together, slick overflowing between your thighs. Vi guides you with her hands on your waist, tattoos shining under the dim light, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.
“That’s it, baby,” she murmurs against your neck, already lost in the feeling of you against her. “So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop.”
Vi forces you to grind harder, to crush yourself against her like you could eat her whole.
“Fuck, Violet.”
“Ah, there it is,” she teases quietly, breath brushing your skin. “That little voice. I like that one.”
You bite her shoulder just to shut her up for a second, but she only laughs against your neck, completely entertained by you.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“Then stop making such pretty sounds.”
There’s no sound except your bodies slamming together, Vi’s muffled moans, your ragged breathing, the dull thud of your heads against the headboard, hot crushed tits and the smell of sex filling the whole room. Your mind goes blank, only movement and hunger exist, the need to grind her down until she surrenders, until she cums first.
But Vi is stubborn. She holds on like a champion. So you take control, hook her legs over your shoulders, spread her wide and line your cunt up with hers higher, closer. Then you start grinding again, slower this time, your clits rubbing together, swollen pussy lips slick and hot, heat climbing like a fever.
You look down at her, your pace slowing more and more, like you want to feel every tiny tremor running through her body. Vi’s cheeks are flushed, lips shiny and swollen from all the kissing, and she’s still smiling at you in that insolent way that melts you.
“What?” she murmurs, still rubbing against you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You don’t answer right away. You just brush a strand of hair stuck to her forehead aside and run your thumb over her bottom lip, soft, almost tender.
“Open your mouth, my love.”
Vi does it without questioning you, staring up at you, trusting, like she’d let you do anything to her as long as it was you. The gesture is slow, intimate, more vulnerable than anyone would ever expect from her. And when your spit falls onto her tongue, slow and warm, Vi lets out a quiet sound that tightens something in your chest more than between your legs. Her fingers sink into your thighs as she swallows without looking away.
“Again,” she whispers, rough and needy. “Please.”
The way she asks makes you kiss her before answering. Your mouths crash together wet and messy, sharing breath and taste without caring about anything else. There’s no disgust, no shame, just hunger and affection tangled together in a way that can’t be separated.
Vi cups your face while you keep grinding together, slow but desperate at the same time. Every kiss feels like she wants to swallow your moans, your soft laughs, even the air from your lungs.
You’re close, too close, orgasm bubbling low in your stomach, but you refuse to cum before she does. Vi looks wrecked, mouth open, begging for more, repeating “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” so you keep going, grinding your cunts together until suddenly her body arches and she cries out, rough and animal, pure pleasure. Heat explodes between you, soaking everything, and only then do you let go too, your legs shaking while your body collapses onto hers.
You stay there for a moment, breathless. Vi strokes your hair, your cheek, kisses your eyelids.
“Now it actually feels like we had a party.”
“We’re disgusting,” you say, but you’re laughing.
“Does that bother you?” she asks, with a hint of vulnerability.
“The opposite.” You kiss her cheek, her forehead, her mouth. “I want you exactly like this. With everything you come with.”
“You wanna skip rehearsal tomorrow?” she asks, grinning with that wicked spark in her eyes. “Stay here all day, fuck and write songs.”
“Otherwise what the fuck are we rockstars for?” you say, kissing her, and inside that kiss, it feels like the whole world fits.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who remembers the exact day she met you, the clothes you were wearing, and the strange twist in her stomach when you smiled at her for the first time.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who loves spending time with you beyond the sex, who genuinely enjoys your presence.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who prefers giving you cash even though transfers are faster; you notice the way her eyes darken whenever she sees you on her bed, in your underwear or with nothing on at all, counting her money that’s yours now.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who never takes anything as a joke, especially when it comes to you.
One night, joking around, you posted something on your insta story saying you needed 500 dollars to buy ice cream.
Not even ten minutes passed before she called you.
“Were you sleeping, darling?” Her voice sounds soft over the phone, her posh accent thicker, maybe from exhaustion.
“I was about to,” you answer with a small smile.
“Would you mind coming over to my house?” she asks, and you know that even though she’s asking, she expects you to say yes. “To give me a goodnight kiss.”
Even when you tell her it’s too late to be out on the street, she says her driver was already on the way to your house.
Caitlyn wanted a goodnight kiss, yes. But after you give it to her, you notice that wicked shine in her eyes. “There’s a gift for you on the nightstand.” And it’s a stack of hundreds waiting for you. “For your ‘ice cream.’”
You let out a little laugh. “I was joking, you know?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who keeps track of you every second of the day. Even though she says your relationship is just transactional, she can’t stop thinking about you. Flooding you with messages like “good morning, darling. i’ll pick you up in an hour, i want to see you before work.” “have you eaten yet?” “how’s your day going?”
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who eats your pussy like it’s her last meal. She loves pleasing you and takes her sweet time doing it.
Your legs are thrown over her shoulders while she gives you a “massage.” Well, that’s how it started, but her lips accidentally found your clit. Caitlyn always starts soft, little kisses against your mound. “you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen, darling,” slips from her lips while her first lick is slow, gentle, just to watch your reaction. “and you taste delicious too.”
The funny thing is you both moan, Caitlyn louder than you. “better than any meal i’ve ever had.”
She can spend forever teasing you, keeping you right on the edge. She smiles when your hands tug at her hair without measuring your strength, she doesn’t care, she loves it.
“Do you want to cum in my mouth, princess? But it’s so hard to let you go, you look so pretty needy.”
At this point she’s basically talking to herself because the only things leaving your lips are whines and moans that make her even wetter.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who shows you off and takes care of you like you’re a jewel, precious, because you are, you’re HER precious girl. She has you as her lock screen, a picture of the two of you at the beach on her computer, and if anyone asks, she smiles. “that’s my girl.” And even though it’s unnecessary, she always puts emphasis on the “my.”
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who gives you an extension of her credit card because she “trusts you,” when really she doesn’t care how much you spend or what you spend it on. But if it’s clothes, you have to model every single outfit for her and she enjoys it like it’s a real show.
She’s sitting on the couch in her house, a glass of whiskey in her hands. She takes a slow sip while looking at you like she wants to devour you.
“Give me a little turn, darling,” Caitlyn demands, fingers motioning in the direction she wants you to spin. “That’s it, just like that.” You can hear the desire in her voice, the satisfaction of knowing you’re doing this only for her.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who loves trying new things with you and never imagined she’d enjoy watching you suck her strap this much. But there’s something so erotic about it, the way you look at her while doing it, how your eyes never leave hers for even a second, not even when she grabs more of your hair, pushing her hips upward, smirking whenever you choke even a little.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who rarely lets you top, but when she’s exhausted or especially needy, she gives herself to you without hesitation. She’s vocal, way more than you expected, and ridiculously sensitive, always asking to be cuddled afterward.
𓂃⋆.˚ Sugar mommy!Caitlyn who’s always cold, but some nights, when work overwhelms her or she misses her mother, she calls you without thinking.
“I need you, darling,” is all she says, and you know exactly what’s wrong.
Those nights, she lies beside you, just looking at you at first, stroking your hair, kissing your face. Even though she’s the one who needs comfort, what really gives it to her is the warmth of your body.
“You’re an angel,” she murmurs shyly, hiding her face in your neck, hugging you timidly. “Just stay like this with me all night. Please.”
.ᐟ.ᐟ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ~ months of work during which you barely had time for one another finally lead you to a night where you and ellie can catch up with the time lost.
.ᐟ.ᐟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ~ 2.4k
.ᐟ.ᐟ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ~ ellie williams x female reader. established relationship, alcohol, they're both tipsy but very much consensual, mentions of alcohol, clubbing, swearing, reader's described as wearing makeup, pet names (baby), SMUT, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), squirting, top!ellie, sub!reader, afab!reader. NOT PROOFREAD AND WRITTEN A LONG TIME AGO. cis men and minors dni.
likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated <3
God knows how long it’s been since the last time you and Ellie had finally managed to carve yourselves the time for one night alone, for a few hours during which responsibilities don’t matter, where nobody has to worry about waking up early even when it’s not a work day and all that’s important is just having one all for the other.
Someone must have listened to your prayers, though, because after interminable weeks of sleepless nights spent staring at your laptop until you vaguely forgot the shape of your bed and during which Ellie seemed out of it just as much as you were by coming home from work somehow always later than the night before, the two of you found yourselves with a single night where nobody had to do absolutely anything.
The decision came easily, just as blinking or breathing air could be: the club where you met years ago, the amount of alcohol that could knock someone twice as tall as the two of you combined, and nothing else but her hands on your hips, your arms around her neck and the beat of a song you barely know as the only witness of the way you can't keep away from each other.
So you got ready in the nicest outfit you have—pieces of clothing that had been shoved so deep inside your dresser that you forgot they even existed—drew your eyeliner sharp, glossed your lips and pretended not to notice how your girlfriend’s eyes were raking down every single movement you were making during the meticulous dance that’s getting ready when it comes to you.
If you were honest with yourself, you were doing everything possible to keep them on your body: slowly bending over the sink to adjust your lipliner with the pretense of needing to be as close as possible to actually see what you were doing; standing in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom in just a bra and a pair of panties that—were it for Ellie—you probably wouldn’t be even wearing, feigning indecisiveness while adjusting different clothes over your frame and turning your head to ask for her opinion as if you didn’t know already what would’ve made her want to take them off faster.
And Ellie—during all of that, since she was ready way before you after throwing on a pair of baggy jeans and a black tank top paired with the silver chain you love hooking your fingers around to pull her closer—stayed as calm as she possibly could, sitting on the edge of your bed with her legs spread, elbows carefully balanced on top of her knees as she kept rubbing her palm across her mouth as if that could possibly be enough for her to pretend that she didn’t want to cancel all the plans you had made just to bend you over the nearest possible surface.
But against even your most accurate predictions, she behaved. She stayed sat, gave you her opinion when you asked for it with a smug smile on your lips and patiently waited for you to finish getting ready, to lace her fingers with yours as you walked down your apartment and into the Uber towards the club, to dance with you until your feet got exhausted, to drink more than you both have ever done during summer break in college before you even met and until you were both drunk enough to not care about anything else but the two of you but sober enough to still get back home on your feet and get inside without failing to slide the key into the lock at the first try.
The thing is, during the whole way back, Ellie’s hands have not stopped touching you once, nor her lips have moved more than an inch away from yours. Not even inside the cab driving you home, when she literally dragged you on her lap like the guy on the front seat didn’t have to turn the volume of the music up to cover her whimpers at the feeling of your tits within her hands.
Clothes fall off before the front door is barely closed, leaving you in just your bra and panties all over again while the loud bass of the music is still ringing inside your ears. Your feet are sore in places you didn’t even know could hurt and your lips don’t have the time to rest before Ellie’s mouth is already on yours again, walking you backwards, her teeth dragging across your bottom lip enough to make you moan into her mouth, hands through her hair, pulling it lightly as her tongue moves against yours in wet, messy strokes.
There’s nothing delicate about it, just months of being too exhausted to do anything but fall asleep with her head on your chest and one leg over your hips that are finally colliding into this one single moment where there’s only one thought running in both your heads: the need for one another.
“Need you,” she manages, breathing ragged, green eyes barely open while she looks at you, socks whispering against the floor while she keeps walking aimlessly across your living room until your back lands against the cold glass of the balcony window. “Now, please, baby.”
Despite the clear feeling of your panties being damp and the fact that your heart is racing so fast it’s almost impossible she’s not feeling it as well, it doesn’t really stop you from tilting your head at her as if you haven’t thought about this exact moment since you decided tonight was meant to be spent outside the house. “Yeah?” You coo. “How much, Els?”
“A lot,” she answers fast while her hands knead the meat of your hips. “There, I’ve said it. Happy? Can we please fuck now?”
She leans closer again, head tilted, eyes barely closed and fixed on your lips, but the moment she gets close enough that you can feel the warmth of her mouth almost pressing once more against yours, you pull back with a low chuckle.
“I dunno,” you tease, fingers playing with the chain still dangling over her collarbones. “You didn't sound very convincing.”
For a second, Ellie stops moving entirely. Her hands stay where they are, her body still pressed firmly against yours, but she pulls back slowly, staring at you like you’ve just told her you secretly voted Republican in the past elections. But you don’t give her time to react.
“You sure it’s not just talk?”
Apparently, that’s enough for the flip to switch.
Ellie’s eyes darken in a heartbeat, that lazy, drunk smile twisting into something sharper, hungrier, and before you can even tease her again she’s grabbing your wrists and pinning them over your head in a way that makes you curse softly under your breath, until there’s little to no space left between the two of you, if that’s even possible. Her breath is ghosting your mouth, her body molding against yours in a way you’re pretty sure you’ll be remembering even tomorrow when you’ll wake up.
“Oh, you wanna play?” She asks, voice low, unhurried now, like she’s taking the bait. “Fine. Let’s play, then.”
Eventually, she lets go of your wrists, letting them fall so your hands come to rest on her shoulders, but only so both her own can skim down your sides, mapping every inch of your body as if she doesn’t already know its shape by heart, as if what makes you whimper, shake and shiver is something that by now she doesn't do with muscle memory alone.
Before you know it, she’s on her knees and the sight looking up at you is enough to make your stomach flip. Because right now, in this moment, Ellie looks like she can’t stand another second without her mouth on you: green eyes half-lidded, drunk in want and need more than anything she’s sipped tonight, auburn hair messy with some strands falling across her forehead, lips parted as her breathing ghosts against your thigh while she glances at you like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment.
“You’re so hot,” you manage, getting your voice unstuck from somewhere deep in your throat.
She leans in more, slow and deliberately. “Am I now?” She whispers. But before you can even nod, she’s catching the elastic of your soaked panties between her teeth, the drag torturously slow as she tugs them down your legs, eyes never leaving yours while the fabric catches on your thighs before she finally pulls them all the way off.
The cool air hits your slick skin, making your shiver, biting your lower lip.
“Fuck, look at you,” she mumbles before pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another higher up, another and another until she’s close… but not enough. “All this for me and you’re still acting like you’re not dripping.”
“Ellie,” you encourage, hips pushing forward, but she pulls back just enough, a wicked little grin flashing up as her thumbs stroke teasing circles on your skin.
“Nuh-uh,” she teases. “You wanted to know how bad I need you so that's what I'm doing.”
The next second, her tongue is dragging slow and flat through your folds, tasting every inch of how soaked you are with a moan spilling free from your lips and a hum from hers. She does it again, slower, savoring it, then circles your clit with the tip of her tongue until you’re pulling her hair enough to keep her close, before pulling away completely, lips shiny and eyes locked on yours.
“Beg for it.”
The words hang there between you, leaving you torn between the need to have her closer and the one that is telling you to flip the table over again, keep this slow tango of power going and have the upperhand again. But between the way she’s looking at you—just as wrecked, just as desperate despite the words that just got past her mouth—something inside you simply… gives in.
“Please,” you breathe, hearing your own voice crack. “Fuck me, Ellie, pl—.”
She doesn’t let you finish the sentence.
The second the plea leaves your lips her mouth is on you, tongue dragging long and filthy through your folds like she’s been waiting years for this exact taste. A broken moan rips out of her throat, vibrating straight into your clit as her eyes flutter close, tongue swirling tight and fast around it while one of her hands slides up your thigh to hold you open wider, thumb stroking the crease where your leg meets your body like she can’t stop touching every inch of you.
You cry out, head tipping back against the window with a dull thud, one hand fisting tighter in her hair while the other scrambles for something to hold onto, nails scraping the glass. There’s no more teasing, just worship in every shape and sound possible: from the ones that she’s drawing out of you and from hers just from finally having you open for her for the first time in what felt like months, as if only this is enough to make her lose her mind right along with you.
She hasn’t stopped watching you for a single second, not as she pulls your closer, one hand gripping the swell of your ass, nose bumping against your mound as she buries herself deep, cataloging into her mind the way your brows are pulled together, the soft crease between them and how your mouth’s falling more and more open with every moan she’s getting out of you.
“Fuck— Ellie— right there, baby, don’t stop,” you gasp, hips rolling against her mouth in desperate little circles.
And Ellie doesn’t stop, just groans again, louder, the sound muffled as she doubles down, tongue flicking faster, two fingers suddenly sliding inside you without warning, curling just right while her lips seal around your clit and suck hard while your knees buckle.
The pressure builds fast, that tight, coiling feeling snapping low in your belly that makes your hips grind messily against her face, thighs shaking so bad that she has to grip you tighter just to keep you upright against the cold glass while the only thing you can hear is the sound of your broken voice that’s barely covering the mess between your legs.
“Ellie— fuck, baby,” you choke out as your muscles start locking up tight around her fingers.. “I’m gonna— I’m so close—”
It all crashes over you not one moment later than that, ripping a loud, broken cry from your throat as you clench her fingers tightly, thighs squeezing around her head while wave after wave rolls through your body until you’re shaking, gasping, back arching hard against the window as slick warmth floods her mouth, but she just keeps going, licking and sucking and moaning like she’s trying to drink every last drop of you.
Only when your legs finally give out and you’re sliding down the glass with Ellie still buried between your thighs, catching you, she pulls her fingers out slowly, pressing one last soft kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up your body on shaky knees, lips shiny and swollen, chin glistening with you.
Her mouth finds yours immediately, deep and messy and tasting like you as she presses you gently back against the glass. “Love you so fucking much,” she mumbles against your lips.
You laugh breathlessly, arms wrapping around her neck, fingers playing with the sweaty strands at the nape of her neck. “I love you more,” you whisper, nipping at her bottom lip with a tired smile. “Now let’s go to bed so I can return the favor.”
And in those last simple words, you both know you're going to have a long night ahead of you. After all, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
can you tell us some things about EY Ellie that aren’t necessarily part of the story but just some tiny facts about her? 😽 cause I love her I fear
𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 !
· · ─ · ᡣ𐭩 a series of facts about our favourite girl ! I wasn’t exactly sure what to title this because they aren’t really headcanons… everything here is infact canon! series masterlist ! these can be read as stand alone! so—bbf!ellie!
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 has known your family for…basically her entire life ! Your brother was five when he dragged her home from kiddies soccer to play power rangers and munch on some crackers and cheese.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 grew up at your house, there was rarely a day where she wasn’t running though the upstairs, or dumping her bag at the front door after a long day of fractions and recess.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞’s language consists of; sick, dude, fuck, shit, and probably every other cuss word ever. She says faggot and she means that shit…
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 is actually really sensitive. She takes a LOT of shit personally and everything goes straight to her heart. Maybe this is the reason shes so closed off…
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 is lowkey a skateboarder but she’s barely pulled it out since she turned like 17.. shes really good tho!! Trust
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 is definitely the type of friend that if her friends trip, or fall or something she’s opening the camera app before she helps them up .. shes laughing her ass off while ur brother is on the ground.. the pictures come out blurry af.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 once kissed Dina in a middle school game of spin the bottle. She immediately bursted out laughing and vowed to never do that again. They’re just too friendly for that.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞’s freckles often disappear during the winter because of the lack of sun, but when the sun comes back out in may, they come back full force. She has them all over her back, her arms, and her face. You’re addicted to them.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 has a really supportive dad (Joel ofc) so she never really had a comphet phase.. shes always been gay, and shes always dressed like a little boy. LMFAO.
Adding onto that, when she was younger and didn’t have a job, Joel would take her to the thrift to get all of her clothes. She would walk out with one pair of jeans and three t-shirts that would enter her weekly rotation. Sometimes she would share shirts with your brother.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 is actually not bad at surfing. It’s kind of a write of passage for the kids in your neighbourhood to be on the surfboards before the age of ten and shes just naturally gifted at it. She also played soccer until like grade 12… and was absolutely fucked at it, like she could’ve gone to play college and she just didn’t.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 strictly wears her chucks. She has two pairs, one busted up black pair that shes had to replace ten times in her life, and a pair of red ones she barely wears. She also bought a pair in your favourite colour but thats unrelated to you completely.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 flew back home w ur brother for ur highschool graduation and had to hide her eyes because she was lowkey crying when you walked across the stage and waved to your family.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 pretends to hate drama but she kinda digs it.. one time she watched two girls fight at a party and kept saying “yoo take your clothes off!” cause shes awful..
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞’s hands are legs are always bruised from miscellaneous mischief. shes got a few gnarly scars too, like the one across her eyebrow she got at 15 when her and your brother were way to drunk to function. they spent the night exploring the city while passing back and fourth a metal water bottle of cheap vodka.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 cuts her own hair. sometimes when she was younger she would get your mom to help her, but shes basically a pro now. your mother also cuts your brothers hair sometimes.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 will drink out of your water bottle or cup religiously. then shell make fun of you for having duch an unconventional drinking cup (if u own one)
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 is so different during the school year vs the summer. summer ellie is REAL ellie. to ellie, winter is like an unskippable cutscene. she gets depressed, has to lock im for school, barely gets to see you… its awful.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 love love lovessss the za!! she isnt HUGE on substances but she will be indulging in the weed. she vapes sometimes but doesnt go out of her way to buy her own. and alc is… well, alc.
𝓝𝑺𝑭𝑾 !
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 isnt really a dom or a sub, she’s just there to fuck. There have been times where shes taken on the more dominant position, but shes not overly rough or anything.
to add onto that, 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 isnt exclusively a top or a bottom! she definitely prefers acts that get you both off, and if not she prefers to top. but if shes comfortable with the person she’ll bottom. so basically, softdom or subtop ellie..
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 has the cutest innie, and its pink.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞’s go to method is the tongue+two finger combo. she never starts with the strap, and honestly prefers not to use it sometimes.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 loves foreplay, but gets impatient quickly. shell trail her lips down your neck as you run your hands up her chest for a maximum of 20 before shes pushing you into the bed and feasting..
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 lost her v card to cat when they first started dating, and lowkey hated it. she topped first and then cat ate her out. it wasnt terrible but it was boring.. there wasnt much chemistry..
when the strap is being used, 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 loves missionary. she can barely take her eyes off of your face, nevermind your bouncing tits. she doesnt like backshots because she feels like its “too fuckboy.” (her words, not mine.) she needs to feel you there, and she cant do that if you’re far away :(( also, shes onky ever used the strap like a few times, and will never receive.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 is pretty vanilla when it comes to kinks n stuff, shes not into bdsm or any of the crazy shit but shes got a few things she whips out from time to time. she likes dry humping, tit play, spit, cum, maybe some light choking or tying up.. that sorta stuff. she wouldnt do anal, cnc, ageplay, or any crazy roleplay.
whichever girl shes talking to will be asked to pop a tit atleast once a day. not im a gross fuckboy way, but in a let me worship you way.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 she spits in mouths during missionary.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 LOVES PRAISE. god, she absolutely worships you in and out of bed. shes so soft and loving and passionate. her favourite’s are: “you’re doing so good.” , “baby” , “such a good girl” and “i love you” but youve never heard that last one :/
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 also loves when you praise her. to hear that shes fucking you just like you want it, she basically cums in the spot.
.✦ 𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 lovesss stoned sex oh my goddddd. the key to her heard lies within a nice joint and a pair of titties. put that on a shirt. she loves to fuck high because its so intimate and she craves that so bad.
sleepy sex, too! shes a suck for some late night/early morning makeout sessions when you’re both half asleep and very, very horny.
hockey player!abby & figure skater!you come across tiktok edits discussing your compatibility. one thing leads to another, a text turns into a call, and now you’re both on your first date that may lead to something else very soon...
warnings: big clit!abby, sub bottom!abby, reader is femdom, abby has never dated a woman before, tribbing, fluffy, (abby!receiving), pwp, gentle smut, abby is so loud
word count: ~3.3k words
join my discord server.
read on archive.
The morning started with early stretches, the scent of coffee in the air before your eyes even opened properly, hair mangled from sleep, phone screen already unlocked as your thumb scrolled past fan-mails.
It was only 8 a.m, and the last performance had left you bone-deep tired. Even standing up straight felt like a pain in the ass. The sunlight was dull, seeping through the gaps in the blinds. You sipped your coffee and mindlessly scrolled on Tiktok, squinted eyes trying to make sense of everything.
Fan edit. Cats. Memes.
You scrolled until you finally reached an unfamiliar edit. Your eyes squinted, the glow of the pixels barely making sense. You straightened, groaning right after feeling the soreness of your body. Then you recognised her— Abigail Anderson.
Probably the hottest thing to ever come on ice without it melting. She played ice hockey, and was pretty well-known for it. She wasn’t as famous as you were for your figure skating, but damn, was she pretty. Her shoulders and arms were built like she could bench press all your emotional baggage and a small car at once. But if you were to say, you were in love with only how her body was framed, you’d be wrong. It was her beautiful, sharply defined face, and take-charge personality.
You couldn’t explain how you found her attractive, but there was this natural aura she had of always knowing what to do in a crisis and you found that hot. Especially in the current economy and societal state, anyone with money and a strong emotional sense was very dateable. You hadn’t developed a crush on Abby though, you barely knew her.
When you said that in your head, you sounded like an asshole but realistically you were more famous. With a sigh, you opened the comments section. It wasn’t news that celebrities were getting shipped with one another— edits, fanfictions, even fanart— you’d seen it all. But never had it once been someone you genuinely considered being with.
You read the comments quietly, grinning to yourself because of how genuinely funny the situation felt. It wasn’t new to you. That’s what made it comedic, you set your mug down and screenshotted a couple of the comments. “They’re crazy,” you mumbled to yourself.
You went about your day, not stressing about what you’d just seen in the morning. Workout, some more coffee runs, shower.
By the time it was afternoon, you’d already gotten quite a couple messages from close friends asking if you were actually dating Abigail Anderson. You were just avoiding them, the pressure of everything becoming too much, and at a point it got too much— you were headed to bed early but that’s when your manager texted you.
“You have an interview tomorrow later, I’ll send you the details in a little bit.”
You read the message and sighed. Workload was good if it was going to stop you from thinking about Abby and the fanmade scandal. You just hoped the interviewer wouldn’t ask you questions regarding the online rumours. You could only hope and pray.
-
“Hey, aren’t you—?”
You turned before she could say your name. There she was— her beautiful face, sharp features, the soft jaw, the little scar on her cheek. You swallowed, trying to gather words to speak but your brain failed you. What you managed was a nervous laugh, something you’d never expect someone as socially trained as yourself to do.
“Yeah,” you sighed softly, “don’t tell me they set up a dual interview without telling either of us.”
“Bingo.” Abby shifted balance from one foot to another, “I’m guessing the rumours made you want to skip out on any interactions.”
“Yeah,” you looked away, “it’s nothing personal. I just don’t want scandals.”
“No, I get it,” Abby crossed her arms, “it’s so fucking immature of them to do this. But I guess we don’t really have any other choice.”
You grabbed your purse, throwing the chain of it over your shoulder before turning, attitude icy as you walked for the door of the dressing room. “I’m not doing this.”
Before you knew it— you felt a hand around your wrist. Not tight. Just firm.
“Hey— no! Stay, please.”
You froze. Abby did too. She quickly withdrew her hand as if burnt.
“Sorry, that was very—…”
You slowly turned to face her, “no, it’s okay…”
“You’re actually really flawless on ice. I was hoping I could get some pointers. But of course you don’t have to.” Abby said, trying to be as straightforward as she could be except her face was flushed red.
You smiled despite yourself. “You sure that’s all you want?”
Abby’s face went redder, “y-yes, I’m sure. Why?” She leaned closer, “did you have something else in mind?”
You straightened, “nope.”
“Sure…”
You crossed your arms, “I’m so serious.”
“You’re red in the face, too.”
“Am not!”
You both laughed, “we should go finish with the interview first,” you said, “before they come up with some other kind of dramatic headline; figure skater and hockey player caught in the dressing room laughing! How scandalous!”
“Oh, no, how utterly shameful, they must be dating!” Abby laughed along, following you out of the dressing room.
“I’m so serious when I say I’m gonna fire my manager if she does shit like this ever again. I’m only lucky you didn’t turn out to be a creep,” you said with an exaggerated sigh.
“Yeah, it could’ve been a lot worse, huh?”
“Mhm…”
The interview ended faster than expected. You both walked out together, before suddenly Abby asked out of the blue—
“So, how come you’re not dating? You’re like really pretty—” as if catching what she’d just said, her face went bright pink, “I actually—”
“No, it’s okay.” You giggled softly, “I’m actually still really scared from my last relationship.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Abby looked away and silence fell between both of you for a while.
“It’s okay, it’s not your doing.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
“I’ve always struggled,” you began slowly, taking your time to think about what you were saying, “I haven’t ever been myself with the people I’ve been with before. They’ve always tried to change me, and it didn’t feel right…”
“That’s not right,” Abby said, voice taking a sympathetic turn, “you didn’t deserve any of it.”
“Thank you,” you looked at her finally, “I’ve struggled to be me. I’m either too cold, or too emotional. And I hate being it. I wish I was just as lovable as I am when I’m pretending…”
“You are,” Abby said, voice cracking a little, “you’re just not around the right people.” She reached forward and gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A world famous figure skater who had a net worth more than her entire bloodline summed up struggled with something like romance?
Abby almost couldn’t believe it.
More so, she didn’t want to believe it.
All she felt like was a grain of sand in comparison to the size of your fame and problems, but even so, she genuinely just wished the best for you. You didn’t deserve it.
-
It had happened when you’d just rolled out of bed. You hadn’t even stretched yet nor washed your face when you noticed your inbox exploding with messages from friends and your manager.
“The clout is good, no need to post any “official statement” unless I say otherwise, okay?”
You read the text and rolled your eyes, swiping it away. You could reply to that later. You skimmed through the texts one by one, all of them were about some sort of recent tag blowing up on Twitter. You opened the app, and your eyes widened.
All sleep vanished in that very second.
There were controversial threads everywhere, talking about the possibilities of you and Abby dating in secret and keeping it a secret to avoid public confrontations and crazed fan threats. It made you rub your temple as each and every comment only got worse the more you scrolled. With a grunt, you closed the app.
That’s when suddenly your phone rang.
You looked at the caller ID.
Abby Anderson.
You quickly received it, pressing it to your ear.
“Good morning, saw the stuff all over Twitter and Tiktok yet?”
“Yeah,” you replied, voice groggy and rough from sleep, “it’s— it’s definitely interesting. My manager’s acting crazy happy about it, too.”
“Could guess so,” Abby laughed, almost nervously, “you wanna meet up and talk about it over coffee?”
“You sure? I mean, I don’t really care about all the rumors, I’m pretty— y’know… well off in my career and my manager loves all the attention—”
“Yeah, it’s fine. You pick the place, my treat.”
Your cheeks flushed before you could help it. “Oh!... Alright then, I’ll text you an address and we can meet there.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She sat near the back corner in a dark hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low, broad shoulders hunched slightly as she stirred her coffee absentmindedly. Still recognizable somehow. Maybe it was the way she occupied space so naturally. Like she belonged everywhere she stood.
Her eyes lifted the second the bell above the café door chimed.
And she smiled.
You hated how much that smile affected you already.
“There she is,” Abby said softly.
Your stomach flipped traitorously.
“You sound like you’ve been waiting dramatically by the window for hours.”
“I have,” she deadpanned. “A single tear rolled down my cheek and everything.”
You snorted before sliding into the seat across from her, “you look… you look good.”
“Alright, that sounded way too forced,” Abby joked.
“Yeah, my jaw locked up and all.”
Abby smiled fucking radiantly. It made you metaphorically lose your mind and want to tear your clothes off and explode into glittered confetti.
You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t even straight actually.
You looked at the menu, pretending not to die inside every time you saw Abby glance at you.
“Did you see everything on Tiktok? The edits?” She asked.
“No,” you admitted, “I haven’t really had the time, I’ve been rushing around since the morning. Actually, I woke up to dramatic text confrontations from friends and shit.”
“Must be tough,” Abby smiled gently, “y’know being that fucking famous and all?”
“Yeah,” you huffed a sigh, “it can get tiring but I love all the free stuff I get outta it.”
She barked a laugh, “valid.”
For a moment, there was silence that you desperately tried to fill by ordering a coffee. The barista arrived with it, you took it with a timid thanks, head bowed down so they wouldn’t catch a proper view of your face.
Abby watched you take a tiny sip of it as if lost in thought.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Mhm?”
“Why didn’t you shut the rumors down immediately?” she asked.
You blinked, trying to think of a way to answer it without hurting her feelings or seeming dismissive in any way.
“Well, for starters, my manager loves it…”
“So it’s all for clout?” She asked, slight bitterness betraying her tone.
“N-no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m unsure if I can even answer it truthfully right now, actually,” you muttered.
Abby reached forward and gave your hand a small rub, “you take your time figuring your emotions out, I’m right here.”
“But I wouldn’t wanna keep you waiting forever.”
“That sounds oddly romantic,” Abby said with the calmest expression known to womankind.
You didn’t deny it. You just sat there, simmering in your own shyness.
“If you do enjoy the dating allegations, we shouldn’t lie about that to each other, right?”
“I don’t… enjoy… them…”
“You seem very hesitant,” Abby said, her smile never leaving her lips.
“You’re insufferable,” you said, breaking into a nervous laugh.
“Sure, I just need the truth.”
“I don’t— I don’t wanna say I’d never date you or anything. I don’t know, Abby. I like you. I don’t know if this can be something serious but I wanna give it a chance but I don’t want it to ever turn out to be some sort of publicity stunt,” you paused, “I’ve— I’ve gotten taken advantage of before.”
Your head drooped, unable to maintain eye contact. Abby’s hand never left yours, rubbing your knuckles gently.
“It’s okay, I’ll be right here for whenever you’re ready, okay? We don’t have to do anything you’re not sure of at the moment.”
“But isn’t it unfair to keep you waiting and just— I don’t know— what if I’m never ready?”
“Then I’ll know I gave heaven a chance to be held.”
You didn’t say anything. What could you even say when Abby was just so smooth with her words she made you feel like an amateur girl kisser.
“Y’know, you’re sweeter than I expected. Most people try to force me to get in bed with them.”
Abby’s brows furrowed slightly, “that’s disgusting, I’d never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
You smiled slightly, “you’re amazing,” you said before you could help it, your hand reaching to hold hers, “I really enjoyed this… date? I don’t know if I should call it that.”
Abby nodded, “yeah, date.”
“I wanna go on more dates with you,” you said truthfully.
“We will. Once the media calms down and stops putting a label on us, we will. A real date this time. Not some tiny coffee shop mess.”
“I don’t need something fancy,” you laughed shyly, “even a small coffee shop in the middle of nowhere is fine.”
Abby smiled, “okay, then, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“We should get going.”
“We really should.”
-
You will never forget that day. It was like a memory that burnt itself in your brain. No matter how long ago that was, whenever you thought back to the way Abby held your hand and told you all those nice things, your cheeks heated up and your heart did a crazy little dance that you couldn’t deny was starting to feel like love.
Love scared you in more ways than one, and you hated how you felt like you couldn’t trust the only person that had ever made you feel so safe and seen at the same time.
What if she was with you for fame? Maybe the money? Maybe even just sex?
It had been yet another date, but just as you both had stepped out— rain pattered on the roof. Abby stopped mid-walk and pulled you back into the warmth of the restaurant.
“It’s raining.”
“Congratulations, genius, you’ve stated the obvious,” you said, smiling.
Abby smiled too, “you’re so snarky.”
“You love it,” you stepped closer.
“Yeah, I do,” her hand wrapped around your waist like second nature, big hand feeling the curve of your waist before she rubbed her thumb in soothing circles, “you sure you wanna get this close right in front of an open window?”
“What’s the media gonna do?” You leaned closer to her lips, “ship us?”
“Maybe… but they already do that so…”
You kissed her.
She moved closer, both hands now holding your waist as you both shared a deep kiss, rendering you breathless but you didn’t pull away. You didn’t break the kiss. You wished it could last forever. But eventually you both parted and looked at each others’ eyes, expressions dreamy. And then kissed again. This time deeper. Needier. Abby pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around your torso as if trapping you against herself so you couldn’t disappear.
You held her jaw with one hand, not firmly, just enough to let her know you’re there, and you’re not going anywhere. Once you both finally parted for air, Abby initiated the first conversation.
“Let’s go to my car?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
-
You and Abby barely had any sense of what happened in the car. She picked you up with ease and carried you to the bedroom, pinning you to the mattress as her hair entangled subconsciously with your hair.
“I love you, Abby, I love you so much,” you whispered, arms wrapping around her tightly.
“I love you, too,” Abby said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Lay down? I wanna make you feel good…”
Abby blinked at you, unsure if she heard you right, but she obliged anyway. You didn’t seem like the kind of woman who preferred holding dominance in bed so Abby didn’t know what to expect but the moment you tugged her pants down and positioned yourself between her legs, Abby suddenly felt her face get hot.
“You’re really doing this, huh?”
“As long as you’re okay with it,” you said, squeezing her thigh softly.
“I am,” Abby said, “I— I’m just a little nervous. People I’ve been with before… they— uh— weren’t really the nicest.”
“Why? You’re beautiful.”
“I’m—...”
Abby opened up her legs. You could see her clit throbbing, peeking out from her soaked folds perfectly. It made your mouth salivate. The sight wasn’t exactly uncommon, but you didn’t expect her clit to be this swollen. You didn’t mind though.
You reached closer, “you’re beautiful.”
Your thighs positioned over and under Abby’s legs, bringing yourself closer until your core was aligned against hers perfectly.
“You let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”
Abby nodded, laying there with both hands gripping the sheets like a nervous wreck.
You started moving. The first time your pussy rubbed against hers, Abby let out a throaty moan, grabbing the sheets tighter.
She was shaky under you as you moved, your slick mixed with hers serving as lube for even better friction.
It made Abby’s eyes flutter shut, her abdomen tightened from the sheer pleasure, making her whimper louder under her breath, trying to keep her voice low but it didn’t help much.
“Oh, oh, fuck! W-wait, I’m so sensitive…” Abby said, shakily.
“That’s okay, I love it. I love how responsive you are.”
Abby’s cheeks flushed a darker shade of red, making her grip the sheets tighter, “c-cumming!”
“Already?” You giggled but your voice wasn’t mocking, just a little surprised.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” Abby cried out as she came, pussy clenching around nothing.
Her mind was hazy from the pleasure as she surrender herself to you.
Abby was so loud, her moans coming out before she could hold them down after the first orgasm. Her thighs were shaky, sounds coming out in huffy breaths, her knuckles white from how hard she held the sheets.
“Ohh… nghh… please…”
You rubbed yourself down harder against her. Abby’s hand shot out and she weakly grabbed your waist, cumming again, “I can’t. I can’t take more. Oh my god!”
“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby. Make me wanna just cherish you forever.”
“Yeah?” Abby smiled tiredly, pulling you in a soft embrace, “I love you, I’m so lucky to have you.”
“I love you more, pretty girl. I can’t wait to treat you so much better than what everybody else has put you through.”
“Same, God knows you haven’t been treated good a second in your life.”
You kissed her again but this time it was softer. Your eyes closed, losing yourself in the soft kiss. Abby kissed you back, her body limp from the little yet perfect stimulation.
She knew she was going to cherish this relationship, even if your professions made everything a public headline.
HII.. okay can i ask for some more wife!abby pleaseee. wife!abby who doesnt even wait for you to get in the house when youre back from work aka sloppy wet CAR SEX !!! ><
ꫂ᭪݁ BEYOND THE RING
wife!abby who misses you a little too much ˖❤︎ ︎ིྀ
— ˳✧༚ masterlist
— ˳✧༚ content warnings -> dom!abby mostly, sub!reader, established relationship, car sex obvi, public/voyeurism allusion?, fingering (r!receiving), use of pet names (a! and r!receiving), tribbing, porn no plot, mentioned but not written cunnilingus (r!receiving), fondling/nipple play (a!receiving), thigh riding, probably more i missed @_@
— ˳✧༚ word count -> 1.5k
— ˳✧༚ kitty writes! hai omg it's been so long since i posted on here, college was so busy. . .but i’m back! :> ANYWAY my favorite nonnie hehe i hope you enjoy!
minors, do not interact <- 𓈒𓏸.°•
wife!abby who’s made a ritual of waiting in the doorway for you when you get home from work, no matter how late it is. after long days at the office, especially following your latest promotion, coming home to your wife was the most solacing reward of all, one you looked forward to each day.
especially when her idea of comfort was fucking your stress away.
as much as you loved the days where abby would stand on your porch in all her blue-eyed beauty, ready to sweep you off your feet the minute you ascended the wooden stairs, you were hungry for the ones where she couldn’t wait to get her hands on you. to show you, remind you, exactly who you belonged to.
she’d done it countless times before. pulled you in by the ass instead of the hips and kissed you senseless against the door, then fucked you endlessly on the couch. but tonight was different. your opposite schedules and new position at work meant abby had been seeing less of you these past few days. don’t get her wrong, she couldn’t be more proud of you for your hard work, but fuck if she didn’t miss her wife.
you’re hardly out of the car before abby comes rushing towards you, enveloping you in a strong embrace. you let out a small gasp, dropping your purse back onto the carseat. “abby, honey, what—“
“baby,” abby rasped in response. her large hands snake down to your ass and she pulls you in close, impossibly close, your thighs against the side of the driver’s seat. “fuck, i missed you.”
“i missed you, too,” you said with shaky hands as you framed her cheeks. you can practically feel abby’s need radiating from her, and while her behavior was surprising, it was far from unwelcome. “what’s going—“
“i need you,” abby rasped. she removed a hand from your bottom and guided you away from the door with the other, before closing it and opening the back door on the same side instead. “in.”
you didn’t say anything as you obliged; abby walked you backward and hoisted you onto the backseat, which you’d thankfully just cleaned, and removed your heels with precision. you tilt your head as you watch her, both aroused and a little dizzy from her actions.
“you don’t want to go inside, honey?” you ask. after all, it was only a few steps away.
“no. need you now, dollface,” abby replied as she climbed into the backseat with you, settling between your legs and closing the door behind her.
a few steps too many, apparently.
you only donned a knee-length white dress, shorts, and panties with your heels today, which abby was evidently grateful for as she removed both your bottoms like a woman in heat.
you watched with hungry eyes as she started to undo the belt on her cargo pants, your thighs shaking with need at the prospect of what your wife was about to do to you.
“what if the neighbors see, babe?” you panted.
“let ‘em,” abby said with a smirk. she threw her belt onto the car floor and leaned down to give you a messy kiss. “have to prove you’re mine beyond the ring, don’t i?”
“ah. . .true. . .” you mumbled between kisses to your lips, then jaw, then down your neck. heat thrummed between legs as you clumsily helped abby unzip her cargos, distracted by your hips bucking upwards of their own accord.
“looks like i’m not the only one,” abby teased, pulling her pants and boxers off and letting them pool at her legs. all that was left was the vision of her in a tight tank top, which had you impossibly wetter than you’d been before.
“you can’t go all feral on me and expect me to be normal about it,” you said with mock annoyance, pulling her in by the hips. “sue me.”
abby chuckled and gave one downward grind that had you seeing stars as her pussy made contact with yours. “what can i say? celibacy does a lot to a woman.”
“you’re so- fuck,” you whined between another thrust against your pelvis, “dramatic. only been a few days, babe.”
“a few days too many,” abby said like the fact should have been obvious. she groaned as she hovered over you, shamelessly pulling one of your legs over her shoulder to get a better angle on your pussy before she thrusted into you again.
abby’s clit rubbed against yours this time, and the friction has your back arching off the seat. your hips bucked upwards to meet her every thrust, loud moans slipping past your lips with each tantalizing grind. you pulled impatiently at abby’s shirt, trying to lift it off her head. “take this off.”
“demanding,” abby said with a teasing smirk. she obliged nonetheless, pulling her top off and over her head before putting it into the growing pile of clothes on the car floor.
your wife thankfully didn’t favor wearing bras in general, but especially around the house, so you were met with the immediate vision of her hardened nipples bouncing with every grind into your soaked pussy. your fingers pinched either one without thinking, cupped her breasts, and kneaded them in both hands, pulling a fiery grunt from the back of abby’s throat.
“fuck, just like that, baby,” abby moaned in pleasure.
with summer having started, nights were often between the sixties and seventies in your city, and with your car off, sweat was beginning to trickle down both your body and abby’s. the wet squelch that sounded with each grind into your wife only made the scene more lewd.
abby helped you out of your dress by pulling it over your head seconds later. the temperature in the car was heated in more ways than one, exhilarating, even, and suddenly, you knew exactly why abby couldn’t wait for you to get in the house.
it was so much hotter like this.
abby shifted her hips then. she moved farther down your leg, ceasing your contact with her core simultaneously, which had you whimpering at the loss, until she slipped two fingers inside your aching hole and began to pump them in and out vigorously instead.
“fuck, abby!” you cried at the sudden fullness, driving your hips into her calloused fingers.
“yeah, baby, say my name,” abby groaned. she began to grind against your thigh to replace the friction, chasing her own pleasure.
you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the show. the synchronous pumping of abby’s fingers inside of you and the vision of her riding your thigh like a woman starved started that familiar pressure in your abdomen, and you felt yourself getting close.
“baby, i’m—” you moaned.
“i know, sweetheart,” abby crooned in response. she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed in quick circles, slowing her grinding against your thigh in order to focus on your climax. “you wanna come for me, dollface?”
“fuck, y- yes,” you whined, though it came out more broken than you’d intended. you couldn’t help yourself, not when you were this close to ecstasy, and one more thrust would push you over the edge.
a few more flicks of abby’s thumb against your clit and you were crying her name, hips bucking relentlessly as you came from the friction, coating her fingers in your essence. the sight had abby twitching against your thigh once again, a ragged “that’s my girl” slipping past her lips as she started to chase her own high again.
still dazed from your orgasm, you grabbed her breasts again with shaky hands, kneading them like you had been before. you held abby’s gaze as she ground her weeping pussy into your thigh, until finally, finally, she came undone with a loud moan, her slick now painting your leg.
in the heat of the moment, like a sudden crash against the shore, your lips found your wife’s in a tangled mess of tongues and teeth. abby had joked about celibacy, but you realized now that that was truly what it felt like going days without sex with her; when you finally got your hands on each other again, it always ended like this, messy and desperate and you had to admit, so fucking sexy.
abby finally pulled away and collapsed on top of you, and the two of you laid there for a moment in a pile of sweat and cum, equal parts exasperated and satisfied from the ecstasy. your nails clawed into abby’s back as she panted into your neck, pressing lazy kisses to the skin there.
when you managed to find your voice, your words came out as a breathy chuckle: “how’s that saying go? going at it like. . .rabbits or whatever?”
“yeah,” abby laughed. “more or less.”
“mhm,” you hummed, rubbing her back. “you’re insatiable.”
“have you looked in the mirror? how could i not be with you as my wife?” abby said, pressing featherlight kisses to your jaw now. she moved as far back as she could then, settling between your thighs and lifting them over her shoulders.
you shuddered at the sudden action, instinctively spreading them to grant her access. “wh- what are you doing?” you asked, though you were sure you already had the answer.
“oh, dollface,” abby smirked up at you. “you thought this was over?”
thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed & feel free to send more requests :>
lawyer!abby taking care of you like the amazing girlfriend she is ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱
w.c. 1.6k
a/n: first fic feeling kinda nervy. hope u enjoy!
it's no secret that your girlfriend abby anderson is absolutely infatuated with you.
whether you've just woken up and your hair is all over your face or you've spent an hour on your makeup and you're wearing her favorite dress for date night, she's utterly obsessed with you. she loves admiring your features, her hand touching at least one part of your body at all times.
you're used to being worshipped by her 24/7, but with her getting busier at work she hasn't had time to take such good care of you, both in and out of the bedroom. as the days crept on by, she had less energy and time to make sure all of your needs were met. in the past week all you'd gotten from her were a few rushed makeout sessions. a whole week was enough time to make you wait, and you were desperate to fall apart underneath her - the treatment you were spoiled with up until the start of the month.
one particular evening you pad into her office, a shirt you had stolen from her hanging off your shoulders and your shortest pair of pajama shorts showing off your ass. she hadn't left her desk since she came home, leaving you to your own devices until she'd come to bed, but this time you wouldn't be waiting.
you quietly leaned against the doorframe, watching her read over her papers again and again, sighing as she typed up more documents. your eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room - her office was always kept pretty dim, abby claimed that she couldn't focus in depressing fluorescent lighting.
"abs? you got a second?"
"yeah baby, what's up?" she replied, her eyes still semi-focused on her work.
you lifted up your shirt, putting your pretty tits that she adored so much onto display. the cold air hardened your nipples almost instantly, and for a moment abby was silent, swallowing almost anxiously. for once, you got to be the one making her nervous.
"shit, baby, i.." she muttered, tossing her glasses onto her desk. she rose from her desk, rushing to the door and shutting up your giggle with a longing kiss. your lips crashed together as she held your face in her hands, pinning you against the wall.
her hands travelled up and down your body, a tight grip on your waist. "'m sorry baby, haven't been able to take care of you.. work's just so busy, mmmf—" she could barely finish her sentence as your kisses deepened, her tongue colliding with yours. her touches were gentle, but full of want. it was clear she'd been craving this as much as you had. "so perfect, my sweet girl," she whispered against your skin as she pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck.
the feeling is euphoric, to finally have her touch you all over like she's been kept away from you for her whole life.
her arms hook you up, carrying you to the bedroom you two share. she gently sits you down on her lap, the both of you sitting up. the silence in the house is only interrupted by your moans and pauses for gasps of air. as she brings up your shirt over your shoulders,"missed this so much," she hummed before her mouth met your breasts, her tongue swirling around your nipple as she palmed and squeezed at the other, eliciting whines from you.
"such gorgeous little tits, just for me," she whispered against your skin. she had barely touched you, yet your moans already filled the room. after all, the sensation felt brand-new after a period of only going so far as kisses that left you wanting more. "enjoying this, aren't you?"
"mmmmh—" you whined as her teeth brushed against your chest. "more, please.." you moaned, the wetness between your legs growing. he latched onto your other tit, rubbing the other nipple in between her thumb and index finger. the mattress dipped every now and then as she shifted her weight to support you, with her now kissing her way down your chest, then stomach before reaching your hips. her fingers trailed down as well, yanking down your shorts and soaked panties to reveal your bare pussy, glistening with slick.
"jesus, look at you," abby groaned, a smirk plastered all over her face. she brought her thumb to your clit, applying light pressure to the sensitive bud.
she began to trace circles on your clit at a painfully slow pace, another finger teasing at your entrance. you were growing needier by the second, gripping her strong arms that held your thighs apart.
you laid your head back against the plush pillows, holding everything back to stop yourself from just grabbing a fistful of her hair, pushing her face and tongue into you, and holding her there for as long as you pleased.
it didn’t matter anymore, though, because it seemed abby had read your mind and already started to flatten her tongue against your pussy, licking fat, wet stripes up and down from your clit to your opening.
“sshit! abby!” you cried out, arching your back as she moaned, sucking on your clit. her fingers pressed harder into your inner thighs, soon to be soaked with your slick and her saliva.
her tongue pressed deeper, exploring your silky insides. something about not getting to eat you out for a while had made you taste ten times better to her. “taste so good, sweetheart, poor little baby hasn’t gotten to feel good lately, isn't that right?” she chuckled, a statement you could only muster up whines as a response to.
"abs- nghhh, n-need you inside me.. want you to—fffuckkk–finger me already, please.." you moaned, in dire need to be completely full of her. "so good using your words, f'me, baby," she muttered. "guess i'll have to give my girl what she asks for, hm?"
all you could do was nod frantically until you felt her fingers finally push inside you, a nasty squelch! noise filling the room as she pushed further.
your creamy pussy clenched around her like a vise, sucking them in greedily. “hahh.. abs, so big, mmnnh, fuck!” you pleaded, your whole body feeling crammed from just two of her thick fingers. she let out a quiet chuckle to herself. you could barely take two fingers, yet your pussy always said different, always selfishly eating them up.
slowly, you felt her fingers thrust in and out of you. they were long, veiny, and she knew how to curl them at just the right angle to bring tears to your eyes. she was still eating you out like a starved woman, slurping up your juices hungrily. the noises you made were borderline pornographic, filling the room and echoing through the house. "my pretty baby, so loud for me, aren't you?" she smirked.
"you're so mean," you breathed, the sensations were overstimulating, you couldn't take it anymore. it was all too much, yet the feeling was addicting. "you know you love it." she replied.
her chin was dripping with your arousal, a sight you hadn't gotten to relish in forever. giving into your impulses, you pushed her head deeper between your legs, letting out a satisfactory trail of moans. her fingers picked up the pace, driving deeper and harder into you, evoking even louder moans as she abused your g-spot.
abby had no complaints, if anything, she loved when you used her for your own pleasure. she encouraged it when you grinded on her mouth and shoved her face into you. her tongue flicked faster against you, driving you closer to collapsing over the edge. "abs- feels too good.. 'm gonna cum.." you hissed as you felt the growing tension in your lower stomach.
your hand continued to press into her scalp, your pleasure only becoming more addictive as she continued. for a moment she pulled away just inches, beads of sweat shining on her face. her eyes gazed up at you as she panted. "you wanna, cum, baby?" she asked, returning to the torture of burying her tongue inside you as she finished her sentence. "hnnnnhh, yes, fuckfuckfuck don't.. ahhh.. do that!!"
her tongue and fingers were now both filling you up. with a chuckle, she smacked her hand on your ass, causing your back to jerk up from the mattress. your legs squirmed against the bedsheets, your orgasm continuing to build up inside of you as her tongue latched onto your clit; her fingers pumping faster inside, almost abusing your g-spot.
"been doing so well for me, baby.." your girlfriend muttered, a smile creeping on her face. "want you to make a mess on my fingers, you can do that for me, can't you?"
no other words were needed at that point, and you came around her fingers, walls clenching around her and your whole body convulsed with pleasure. you nearly saw stars from how hard you came and abby still fucking you through your orgasm.
"yeah, that's it, attagirl.. ride it out." she praised, letting you take what you wanted as your cum spurted out of you, coating your inner thighs and the sheets below the two of you. you had been practically humping her hand up to this point, now slowing down before eventually coming to a stop.
abby pulled her fingers from your wet folds and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean before slumping down next to your fucked-out, tired self. she tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear, her eyes softening as she admired you with her hands folded under her chin.
slowly, the two of you started to drift off to sleep, but not before abby had cleaned you up, brought you a glass of water, and held you tightly in her arms, your legs tangled together underneath the blanket.
if only the two of you could stay like this forever.
a/n pt. 2: gave myself a bajillion icks while writing so if it gave you the ick its understandable….. it is my first time though so yes pls dont slime me out LMAO im such a loser. creds to @cursed-carmine for banner! sorry idk if i'm giving creds properly..
here me out, an Abby fic where both Abby and reader are in a band. Abby’s drummer, reader is singer and guitarist. Fans have their suspicions, but no one really knows what happens backstage 👀
drummer!abby x guitarist!reader, singer!reader
cw: scissoring, pussy slapping, thigh humping, kissing, spanking, boob play
tonight’s concert was loud. louder than usual. abby was on the drums, playing more aggressive than usual. she didn’t mean to, but fuck was she distracted by your outfit. every time you pranced and jumped around on stage with that guitar wrapped around your chest, your skirt slid up. she wanted to stand up and pull it down so nobody else could see, yet she was the only one staring.
the way your fingers moved against the guitar reminded her of how good your fingers worked inside of her. she found herself squeezing her thighs together, drums forgotten. she was so distracted, and you were so oblivious. she wanted to get this shit over with.
finally, once the concert was over with, abby couldn’t wait to get you backstage. she waited for the rest of the bandmates to leave before she came up from behind you, wrapping her arms around you. “you wearin’ this for me? hm?” abby asked, hands wandering down to the skirt. she fiddled with the hem of the pink fabric before sliding her hands down to your thigh. this wasn’t a new occurrence.
with a faux confused look, you asked, “what do you mean? it’s just what the stylist gave me.” abby scoffed at that, giving your soft skin a rough squeeze. her mouth found your neck, biting it and soothing it with her tongue. “yeah?” she hummed sarcastically, dragging her mouth to your ear. she nipped at it and you held back a whimper, not wanting to give her that satisfaction yet. “yeah..” you replied, your voice slightly pitching in a please whine.
abby’s other hand moved upward, going underneath your shirt to tease your breast. she led you over to a small couch in the corner of the room. abby removed your shirt, tossing it to the side. “look at those pretty tits.” abby said, a wolfish grin on the girls face. she pinched your nipple between her fingers, twisting it around. “abby!” you whimpered, squirming around. then, you felt a sharp sting to your ass. “hold still, doll.” abby demanded, her mouth going to your other boob. “been wantin’ this all damn day.” she grumbled against a peaked nipple.
then, she finally removed the last barrier of clothing on your body. that skirt that had been driving her insane. you shivered at the sudden coldness against your pussy, leaning into her warmth. abby pulled away for a moment, removing her clothes as well. then, she sat down, patting her thigh. “hump.” she commanded. you nodded frantically, sliding onto her firm thigh. you held onto her shoulder as you rutted your wet, hot pussy against her thigh. “there you go, doll. you’re doing so well. keep goin’.”
when she noticed you getting wetter, she lifted you off her lap and laid you down, thumb circling your clit. “please, abby..” you cried, begging for her touch. abby lightly slapped your pussy, just enough for you to squirm. “you want it that bad, baby?” abby tangled her legs with yours, her folds pressing against yours. her hips started off as a slow, heavy grind, pressing exactly where you needed her to. then, the movement grew faster, harder as the two grew needy. “i-i’m so close, abby.” you said, cheeks a dark flush of red as you moved your hips up, clit hitting hard against hers. the sound of slick wetness filled the room along with the desperate moans of you and abby. “fuck..me too..” abby whimpered. the two both came at the same time, leaving a mess on your thighs and on the peoples couch. poor janitor.
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