itopellabs

[itopellabs]

OBSESSED (PART 2) (ellabs, NSFW, stalker!abby, volleyball!AU)

Abby's obsession put her in a place she never thought she'd be: at Ellie's mercy. (3.1k words)

(part 1)

warnings: lesbian sex, stalker perv abby, stalking, humiliation, finger sucking, face riding (e), slight d/s.

After that night – after Abby came undone in Ellie’s dirty jersey, moaning for her like she was being worshipped and ruined all at once – things didn’t go back to normal.

How could they?

Abby hadn’t even touched Ellie. Not once. Not properly. Not like she wanted. That was the real torture. 

She’d been devoured, used, humiliated in the best possible way – and she hadn’t even gotten to return the favor. To show Ellie what her hands could do. To prove herself.

It was her biggest dream and her worst nightmare at the same time.

She wanted to taste Ellie. Worship her. Ruin her. Hear what she sounded like when she broke.

But that one time – that perfect, disgusting, incredible night – felt like a punishment. A one-off. Her price to pay for being a stalker.

She didn’t expect it to happen again.

Didn’t deserve it to happen again.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

She still didn't quit. The stupid jersey, looking at her every story.

It's like Ellie did it on purpose now, a thirty second video of the guitarist rolling and closing a joint, updated Friday, 11pm, recorded by a laughing Dina. Probably high already.

Those fucking fingers and tongue. She knows exactly what she's doing.

Abby would like to pretend that it didn't affect her, but now, once she'd had her, it was impossible to ignore.

She wanted Ellie again, even if she knew it couldn't happen. Even if she knew she should hide and never leave her room again.

And only two days later, Abby walked into the gym an hour early – just like always – and nearly tripped over her own feet.

Ellie was there.

Already. Sitting on the bleachers, hoodie up, leg bouncing like she was barely holding still.

Ellie? Early for practice?

Abby stopped cold. Her heart stuttered.

Ellie looked up and grinned. “Damn, Cap. You get here an hour early? I knew you were a try-hard, but shit.”

Abby swallowed, slow. “You’re also an hour early.”

Ellie tilted her head, grin sharpening. “That’s ‘cause I wanna have a little chat. With my favorite stalker.”

Abby’s face went red immediately. “Don’t call me that in public–” She glanced around, stepping closer, voice low and urgent. “What if someone hears?”

Ellie didn’t flinch. Just stepped into her space and brushed Abby’s hand away from her mouth with casual defiance.

“I don’t think you get to make demands,” she murmured. “You’re the one who stole my clothes, remember?”

Abby’s throat tightened.

“Ellie, enough.”

She pulled her wrist back. Her skin felt hot and clammy. The gym was cold, but she couldn’t stop sweating. The way Ellie was looking at her – amused, smug, still fucking interested – it made her want to crawl out of her skin.

Without another word, Abby turned and stalked toward the locker rooms.

Ellie followed. “Abby. Hey. Anderson– c’mon.”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?”

Abby shoved open the locker room door. Ellie slipped in behind her.

Abby yanked her locker open and tossed her bag in hard enough to rattle the hinges. The slam echoed through the empty room.

Ellie closed the space. “Hey. I’m serious. I wanna actually talk about what happened, okay?”

Abby didn’t move. Her fists were clenched.

At least she doesn't look high.

Ellie hesitated. “I know I was kind of a dick the other night.”

“You weren’t a dick,” Abby said, voice tight. “You were right. I am a creep.”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“I stole from you, Ellie,” Abby snapped. “I watched you. For months. I jerked off to your pictures, I knew your schedule, I–”

She stopped herself. Breathed hard through her nose.

“I’m a fucking freak,” she said, quieter now. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

Ellie’s mouth opened. Closed. She looked… off balance. Like she hadn’t expected any of this.

Abby looked down at the floor. “Forget it,” she said. “I have to set up.”

She walked out.

Ellie followed again.

Out in the gym, Abby moved like a machine – dragging net poles into place, avoiding eye contact. Her jaw was tight. Her muscles were tense. She looked like she was being held together with tape and rage.

I shouldn't have done this. Shouldn't have shown you that.

“Abs,” Ellie called. Nothing. “Please.”

Now that was just unfair. Calling her Abs like that, like she could possibly ignore Ellie Williams for much longer.

Abby paused. Just slightly. Her hands stilled on the net.

Ellie stepped closer. Softer now.

“If you’re a freak,” she said, “then I’m fucked, too. Because I liked it. I liked you like that."

Abby’s breath hitched.

“And the way you look at me? It’s hot, Anderson.”

Abby made a noise. Something half-broken. “Ellie. This… isn't funny–”

Ellie's voice didn't falter. “It's not supposed to be funny.” She stepped closer. “You’re ashamed now? After stealing my stuff, stalking me, asking me to use you the other day?”

Abby was ashamed. She was flushed, sweating, but she knew that wasn't all of it. “I shouldn't have–”

“I don't give a fuck what you should've done. I know what you did. And I know you still got a lot to pay me for it.”

Abby would've replied. But then came the sound of chatter, echoing through the gym. The messy footsteps of their teammates.

They stepped apart. Instinct. Habit. Like nothing had happened.

But Ellie wasn’t done. Not even close.

Abby avoided her for the rest of practice, eyes down, focused and mechanical. She called out plays like usual, corrected stances. But it wasn’t the same. Her voice was too tight. Her movements, too sharp. Like she was trying to exorcise something.

And Ellie watched her the whole time.

Smirking. Lazy, but competent in court. Dangerous.

Abby caught her staring three separate times and almost fumbled the ball on the third.

She told herself she wasn’t going to look back. That she needed to get her shit together. That this – whatever this was – had already gone too far.

But then practice ended. People filtered out, laughing, tired, buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

Abby stayed behind to clean up. She always did. But this time, her hands were shaking as she rolled the net up, stuffed balls into the rack, locked up the cart.

Her thoughts were a mess of shame, regret and desire.

She couldn't even touch herself wearing the damn jersey anymore. It just wasn't as good as Ellie. Nothing felt the way she did.

When she finally stepped outside, the gym lights off behind her, the evening air heavy and damp – she didn’t expect Ellie to be there.

But there she was, leaning against the back wall. Hoodie up. One foot planted against the bricks. A joint glowing between her fingers.

Fucking beautiful.

Abby’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart dropped, and she thought of running.

Ellie didn’t look surprised to see her. She took a slow drag, let the smoke curl out of her mouth, and tilted her head.

“Hey, Cap. Good practice.”

Abby stopped short.

Ellie’s eyes dragged over her – the tight tee, the bruises forming on her knees from drills, the way her chest was still rising fast from leftover adrenaline. And Abby could tell – Ellie wanted her like this.

Tense. Guilty. Submissive.

“You ignoring me now?” Ellie asked, voice light. 

Her eyes were watching Abby like a hawk, still. How could she not, when the blonde looked so damn good.

“I’m not,” Abby said, quiet.

Ellie took another drag, then held the joint out between two fingers. “Wanna hit?”

Abby hesitated. She knew Ellie was a trap she couldn't risk getting too close to. But she took a step forward. Then another.

She didn’t take the joint. But she was close now, close enough to smell the weed and sweat and Ellie’s skin. Close enough to see her smile twist, smug and knowing.

Ellie let the joint hang at her side. Her voice dropped. “... Gonna run again?”

Abby’s jaw clenched. Her fists were balled at her sides. “I’m not running.”

Ellie smirked. “Yeah. Good girl.”

Abby’s brain short circuited. She didn’t think. She just surged forward, grabbed Ellie by the hoodie, and kissed her. Hard.

Teeth clashed. Ellie made a low, pleased noise in the back of her throat and pulled her closer by the hips, the joint forgotten, flicked somewhere onto the pavement.

It was hungry. Messy. Desperate.

Abby kissed like she was dying. Like kissing Ellie was the only way to breathe again. Like she could drown in the taste of her and not even care.

Ellie’s hands slid down her back, greedy. She was grinning into the kiss, gasping into it, already half-laughing from how needy Abby was.

“You missed me?” she asked, voice rough.

Abby didn’t answer. She pressed their foreheads together, panting, nodding.

“I can feel you shaking,” Ellie whispered. “You’re so fucking easy, Anderson.”

Abby’s breath stuttered. “I’m not–”

“Yes, you are. You’re my little pervert who wants to be told what to do.”

Ellie kissed her again – bit her lip, sucked it between her teeth until Abby moaned. “You like it when I say that shit, don’t you?”

Abby gasped. “Ellie…”

Ellie’s hand slid up, under her shirt. “You’re team captain. Strong as fuck. Everyone listens to you. And here you are… whimpering just for me, like a goddamn puppy.”

Abby shut her eyes. Her forehead pressed to Ellie’s collarbone. She was going to lose it. A lean hand found her jaw. Tilted it up.

“But you’re pretty when you’re like this,” she murmured. “You know that?”

That cracked something open. Abby moaned – quiet, muffled – and kissed her again. Rougher now. Hungrier.

Ellie grabbed a handful of her ass and grinded into her, their height difference contributing to the perfect fit of their bodies, like pieces of a puzzle.

They kissed like they were trying to win something. Like they could fuck each other open just with teeth and tongue, and Abby could feel the familiar heat coming up between her thighs.

Neither of them stopped, because fuck shame. Fuck guilt. Abby didn’t care anymore.

Ellie had her pinned against the brick wall a second later, both hands under her shirt now, cupping her tits, biting her throat, whispering filth in her ear.

“You like being my little secret, perv?” Ellie muttered, grinding up into her. “My strong girl, who cums when I say so?”

The delicious mix of humiliation and praise had Abby biting on her lip. “Yes– yes, fuck, I–”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.” She obeyed, pulling her impossibly closer. “Please...”

Abby didn't even know what she was begging for, but she didn't care. She could feel the cold air against her sweat slicked skin, cooling the heat.

Ellie grinned, dragging her mouth down her neck. “Damn right you are.”

The streetlights buzzed somewhere in the distance. The gym was quiet. And they knew whatever they were doing couldn't end there.

“Come on, Abs. Gotta take care of you, don't we?”

And she'd be actually crazy to say no.

Ellie didn’t even ask. Just grabbed her wrist and started walking.

Abby followed.

It was quiet between them, except for the sound of their sneakers against the pavement, the shuffle of their breath. Abby could feel her heartbeat in her throat, in her fingertips, in the ache between her legs.

She was trying to be calm. Collected. To hold it in.

She failed.

Ellie’s dorm door slammed shut behind them, and Abby was already on her. Her hands went to Ellie’s waist, then up her back, then into her hoodie like she couldn’t decide what to touch first.

Ellie laughed into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re eager.”

Abby didn’t care. “You brought me here.”

“Yeah I did. Didn't tell you to stop.”

Ellie kissed her again, rough and messy, pushing her back toward the bed.

But this time, Abby didn’t just take it.

She pushed back.

Their teeth clicked. Their lips crushed. Abby grunted and turned them, pushing back until Ellie was the one hitting the mattress, sitting back on her elbows, looking up at her with a crooked smirk.

“Ohhh,” Ellie drawled. “Someone’s got ideas?”

Abby dropped to her knees. Ellie raised her eyebrows.

“I didn’t get to touch you last time,” Abby said, voice rough. She pulled Ellie’s legs apart and settled between them, big hands sliding slow along her thighs. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

Ellie blinked. Her mouth opened like she was about to make another smartass comment – then closed again when Abby pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee.

Then another, higher. Ellie’s breath caught, forgetting she was supposed to be in control, for a moment.

Abby grinned. “Like my mouth, Williams?”

Ellie swallowed. “Shut up.”

Abby didn’t. She nuzzled into the heat of her, slow and reverent, like a worshipper kneeling at the altar. And she still hadn’t even really touched her, she was taking her time, like Ellie was something sacred.

Ellie stared down at her. “You’re such a fuckin’ perv.”

“I know.” 

Abby said, eyes going down Ellie's arms, to those veiny hands. Her eyes darkened with unspoken intent.

But she didn't have to say it.

Ellie's eyes followed. “You want my fingers in your mouth?”

Abby’s eyes flicked up. She nodded.

Ellie held out her hand, fingers splayed. Her smirk returned. “Then earn it.”

Abby didn’t hesitate. She took Ellie’s wrist, brought it to her mouth, and kissed the tips of her fingers like they were holy.

Ellie inhaled, sharply.

Abby’s tongue came next. Long, slow licks between each knuckle, wet and hot and shameless. Then she took two fingers into her mouth and sucked, slow and deep.

Ellie’s eyes went heavy. “Jesus…”

Abby let them pop out with a soft sound. “You like that?”

“You know I do.”

Ellie leaned forward, pulled her hoodie off, then tugged at her own tank top until it was off too. She was bare underneath – of course she was – and Abby just… stared.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” she murmured, dazed.

Ellie grinned, flushed and cocky. “Keep talking like that and I might let you cum tonight.”

Abby climbed over her, hands on either side of Ellie’s hips. She kissed her collarbone, then lower. “I don’t care about that right now.”

“Oh?”

“I just want you.”

That landed. Ellie’s smirk faltered. Her head tipped back, throat exposed.

Abby mouthed at it. Bit it. Licked a stripe up her pulse and kissed her jaw.

Then lower, all over her chest, nipples hardening against her tongue.

She hooked Ellie’s waistband with her thumbs and pulled down, slow.

“You gonna pray before you go down on me, baby?” Ellie asked, a playful smirk on her lips once again, trying to regain control.

Abby didn’t break eye contact when she said it. “I already am.”

And then her mouth was on Ellie — slow, reverent, filthy. Her hands gripped her thighs, held her open, anchored her. She licked her cunt like it was sacred, like she’d been starved and this was the only thing that could keep her alive.

The taste of her was strong and Abby didn't care, tongue alternating between flicking her clit and sliding into her soaked hole. She clearly liked it much more than she showed, and Abby let out a moan against her core.

Ellie groaned, head tipping back again, arm draped over her eyes. But not for long. She had to see those hazy blue eyes, peeking at her from over her bush as her tongue made her feel like her pussy was melting.

“Fuck, look at you,” she murmured, voice rough with smoke and something sharper. “You’re fucking starving, huh?”

Abby moaned against her again, unable to stop herself, feeling her boxers drenched already.

Ellie’s fingers tangled in blonde hair, tugged gently – not to guide, just to feel her. “You like it? Like being a mouth for me to fuck?”

She grinded her hips against her face.

Abby nodded. Couldn't speak. Couldn’t stop. She lapped at her with newfound vigor.

Ellie watched her, watched the way her lashes fluttered, the way her eyebrows pulled up like it hurt to go this long without tasting her. Her cheeks were flushed, wet, and perfect. Worship turned into desperation, and it was glorious.

“Shit,” Ellie breathed, tightening her grip in Abby’s hair. “You’re shaking, baby.”

Abby whimpered against her. Her hands clenched on Ellie’s hips. Her whole body buzzed, lost in it, like she’d drown in Ellie if she wasn’t careful – but wouldn’t mind if she did.

“You're perfect like this,” Ellie said, voice breaking into a laugh. “God, what would your team think? Big, strong Captain Anderson on her knees, crying for it.”

Ellie's dirty mouth didn't stop, but her voice was shaky too. Abby sobbed into her. It wasn't from pain.

She was pussy drunk, doing it for her pleasure over Ellie's.

The auburnette just watched, biting her lip, her own breath turning shaky from how hard she was pulsing against Abby’s mouth. She was really fucking close.

“Fuck, Abby. Gonna cum–” she jerked, taking a sharp breath. “Gonna cum on your pretty mouth. Don'tfuckingstop–”

Abby nodded, not changing a fucking thing, tongue abusing the bundle of nerves.

And when she came – hips jerking, voice low and cracked – she didn’t let go of her hair. “Shit, Abs, fuuuuck…”

Ellie didn’t let her move, just pressed down on the back of her head, kept her pinned between her thighs.

Abby didn’t resist. Didn’t want to.

Only when the waves passed and her thighs twitched, oversensitive, did Ellie finally pull her up.

Abby blinked, dazed. Her lips were swollen. Her chin slick. She looked wrecked. 

Ellie sat up slowly. Pushed her hair out of her face. Studied her.

“You didn’t even try to touch yourself,” she said, a little surprised.

Abby shook her head.

The other tilted her head. “Why?”

“You didn’t say I could.”

Ellie groaned. Such a good girl. Heat bloomed again, fast and deep.

“Goddamn,” she muttered. “You’re so fucking obedient, baby.”

She kissed her. Deep and slow and possessive, and Abby tasted herself as she sucked on her tongue. Then, Ellie grabbed Abby’s face in both hands.

“Y’ever been strapped before?”

Abby’s eyes widened slightly. She swallowed. “N-Not yet.”

Ellie’s grin turned feral. “You want to?”

Abby nodded fast before she could ask twice.

She shoved her gently but firmly onto her back, reached over to her nightstand, and opened the drawer.

A leather harness. Long, girthy and navy blue – didn't even look like it'd fit.

Ellie strapped in slow, deliberate. Not to tease. Just so Abby could see it, and she could.

“You’ve earned this,” she said, voice low. “But don’t think I’m gonna go easy, little perv.”

Abby’s legs trembled as Ellie climbed over her, green eyes shining with purpose.

“Spread your legs for me, baby?”

So Abby did. Happily. 

Over and over again.

Turns out the wasn't the only one obsessed.

[itopellabs]

PUT A BABY IN ME (ellabs, slight NSFW, amab!ellie, baby fever!abby, very short)

Abby is ovulating and wants Ellie's babies. Ellie is low-key terrified — but always gives her baby what she wants.

warnings: abby being a sexy bottom, talks of impregnation, impregnation/breeding kink, baby fever.

Abby knew exactly what she was doing.

The shorts were not an accident. The cropped shirt wasn’t, either. Nor was the strategic bending over in front of Ellie while “reorganizing the pantry” on a random Thursday.

It was hot. She was sweating a bit, hair loose. She let her top cling, just enough to outline the curve of muscle, the dip of her waist, the subtle line of her abs.

Abby wasn’t subtle about anything else, so why start now?

Ellie was trying to be patient. That was the problem.

Her girlfriend – her stupid, considerate, loser girlfriend – had been on her best behavior ever since Abby had mentioned, very casually over pancakes, that she was “thinking about babies.”

Thinking.

That was two weeks ago. But now, she was ovulating and going feral.

All she could think about was Ellie inside. Ellie all over her, Ellie kissing her, those lean hands on her hips while the tip of her cock kissed her cervix too, and she filled her to the brim. Over and over again.

She chewed on her lip.

Control yourself. Patience.

Abby leaned against the counter. Stretched. Flexed a little, not that she needed to, it just happened.

“Babe?” she said, tone deliberately light. “Can you open this jar for me?”

Not like Abby really cared about pickles at the moment. It was just an excuse, like many others she'd used to get Ellie to come closer these past few days, trying to break her restraint.

Ellie looked up from the couch. Narrowed her eyes. She knew.

Not that she was totally against it. She just wanted to be sure that it wasn't just Abby's hormones talking.

“You could literally lift a fridge with one hand,” Ellie said flatly.

“I know,” Abby said and grinned. “But my arms really hurt after my workout. Please?”

Her brain was screaming: Put a baby in me, you coward.

But out loud? Just a smile. Just a glance at Ellie’s thighs as she stood up. Just a subtle shift in her hips as she moved aside to let her pass.

God, she needed Ellie to get on her. In her. Now.

And she didn't even have to ask.

At first Ellie had been hesitant. But of course it didn't last.

Her strong girl, showing off, doing everything in her power to get Ellie to do it raw and come inside, like that didn't sound like her dirtiest fucking fantasy already?

Those shorts?

Ellie crossed the room, hands already inching toward Abby’s hips before she even reached her. The jar was forgotten. Hell, everything was forgotten.

Abby’s breath hitched when Ellie’s fingers dug into the waistband of her shorts, tugging her closer like she was the prize.

Ellie’s lips brushed Abby’s jaw, then down her neck. “You’re really trying to get pregnant, huh?”

Abby’s smirk was sharp and clever. “How did you know?”

Ellie chuckled, lowly. “You’re impossible.”

Impossible in the best goddamn way.

Her hands slid higher, pressing into the curve of Abby’s ass, pulling her flush against that hard, hungry body. Abby grabbed the back of Ellie’s neck and slammed their mouths together, teeth and tongues and desperate need.

Ellie bit, soft, teasing, just enough to make Abby shiver but not enough to back off. Abby didn’t give her a chance to think twice. She pressed every inch of herself against Ellie, flexing muscles that she could feel beneath her fingertips.

Her hips rolled deliberately, slow and teasing, the shorts tightening just so to show off the curve of her ass.

Abby’s hands slid up Ellie’s chest before locking into her hair again. “You want this, don’t you?” she murmured against Ellie’s lips, feeling the bulge that hardened against her hips. “You want to put a baby in me. I can feel it.”

Ellie’s breath hitched, eyes darkening with want and something else – hesitation.

Abby didn’t let her pull away. “Don’t think about it,” Abby whispered, voice rough. “Just do it.”

Every touch Abby gave was slow and intense. She wasn’t subtle, wasn’t shy. She was raw and all hers.

Ellie groaned, hands tightening on Abby’s waist. “You’re– driving me insane, baby.”

“Good,” Abby said, voice low and urgent. “I want you insane.”

They collapsed onto the couch, limbs tangled and heat pulsing like electricity. Ellie kissed her like she meant it — slow at first, then desperate, as if she was trying to memorize every inch before Abby slipped away.

Abby’s top clung to her skin, damp and soft, shorts riding high, and Ellie’s hands worshiped every firm curve like it was the last time she’d ever touch it.

She needed more, but so did Abby, and she wasn't feeling so satisfied with just making out – no, that wasn't gonna get her a baby.

She kissed Ellie's neck, voice sweet like honey against her skin.

“Come to bed... Gotta try in lots of different ways if you wanna make me a mommy, right...?”

What was left of Ellie's sanity knew she should think a little better, but Abby's ass grinding down on her bulge quickly wiped those thoughts off her pretty little head.

She groaned, her head leaning back. “Y-Yeah. Fuck,” she sighed, blinking and looking at Abby again. “Let's go make a fucking baby.”

Abby didn't take long to drag her to bed. She always got what she wanted anyway.

[itopellabs]

OBSESSED (ellabs, NSFW, stalker!abby, volleyball!AU)

Abby is obsessed with her teammate, Ellie Williams. She goes as far as stealing one of her jerseys and wearing it to bed. Ellie is an unattainable dream. Until maybe she isn't. (4.2k words)

warnings: lesbian sex, stalker perv abby, stalking, masturbation, humiliation, top ellie, bottom abby, fingering, dubious consent (at first), slight d/s.

Abby Anderson was cool. Team captain, volleyball player. Everyone liked her. Coaches trusted her, teammates liked to hang out with her, professors gave her perks they didn’t give anyone else. She was smart, funny in a dry way, always smelled good. The kind of girl people assumed had her shit together. The kind of girl who didn’t have to chase anyone – people came to her.

So, naturally, no one would’ve guessed that she was obsessed.

Not just a crush. Not an interest. An obsession.

It was Ellie’s fault, really. 

Ellie with her dumb smirk and chipped nail polish, prancing into practice ten minutes late with a guitar case slung across her back and a blunt probably still in her sock. Ellie who talked shit nonstop and backed it up, rumors running around the team about her skilled fingers. Ellie who never wore sleeves in practice and always had something cocky to say, her arms flexing just enough when she played with her wristbands.

Abby had stolen her extra jersey weeks ago. Not on impulse. No, she'd waited – timed it right. Slipped it into her duffel and walked out of the locker room without flinching. It still smelled like Ellie. Like weed and deodorant and gym dust. She kept it folded under her pillow or on her drawer but it rarely stayed there.

She used it when she touched herself. Often.

Sometimes she’d scroll through Ellie’s tagged photos with the jersey stuffed between her legs. Sometimes she’d watch clips from games they’d played together, freeze-frame them, her eyes locked on Ellie’s hands And tattooed arms.

Afterward, she’d stare at herself in the mirror like she didn’t know what the fuck she was anymore.

But in public? She was Abby. Team captain. Honor student. Cool, calm, collected.

No one knew the truth.

Least of all Ellie.

Practice ran late. Everyone was dragging, half-dressed and sore, music buzzing from someone’s phone in the corner of the locker room. Abby kept her usual calm – smirked at jokes, tossed her towel over her shoulder like she wasn’t fucking vibrating under her skin.

Ellie was sitting two benches down, legs spread, arms resting over her knees. Shirt off. Sports bra clinging damp to her chest, tattoos glistening with sweat. She was talking to someone, probably already high. Abby didn’t hear a single word.

She was watching the way Ellie rolled her wrists. The veins there, pulsing faint under flushed skin. Long fingers twitching absently as she gestured, lazy and loose and fucking unfair.

Abby turned to her locker, but her jaw was tight.

She’d jerked off to those hands three times this week alone. Imagined them pinning her down, choking her, sliding under the waistband of her shorts while Ellie grinned like a little shit.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Ellie laughed at something behind her. Abby’s skin prickled. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t even want to look, but she did. Over her shoulder, just for a second.

Ellie caught her.

Not for long. A blink. A glance. Just long enough for their eyes to meet, for Ellie’s brow to tick up slightly like, what?

Abby smiled. Cool. Easy.

"Something on my face, Captain?" Ellie asked, voice low, lazy, amused.

Abby’s grin didn’t falter. "Nah. Just surprised you made it to practice on time for once."

The girls around them laughed. Ellie flipped her off, grinning back. But her eyes lingered a little too long.

Abby turned back to her locker, heart pounding.

That jersey was getting used tonight.

No question.

And the dorm was empty when Abby got in.

Thank fuck. She dropped her bag, kicked the door shut with her heel, and locked it without thinking. Her hoodie was off before she even reached the bed. The room smelled like laundry and old coffee, but all she could think about was sweat. Skin. The way Ellie’s mouth curved when she was cocky. Which was always.

Abby yanked open the bottom drawer and pulled out the jersey. Her fucking treasure.

It was wrinkled. Faintly stained. Still smelled like Ellie. That earthy, careless scent that made Abby dizzy.

She stripped fast. No pretense, no romance. Just need. Shame would come later. It always did.

She threw herself on the bed, climbed over the pillows, and shoved one of them between her thighs like she was in a fight with it. Ground down hard. Felt the friction of the fabric on her swollen clit.

The jersey went over her head, big enough to fit, baggy and worn, but she didn’t care how she looked. She wasn’t trying to be cute.

She was trying to cum.

Friction was everything. She pressed down and rutted into the pillow with full force, arms flexing, jaw clenched. No teasing. No finesse. Just pure, messy fucking need.

If only it were Ellie's leg instead. Or her hips. Or the bulge she packed sometimes at parties. Fuck…

Her mind reeled. Ellie laughing at her own jokes. Ellie straddling a folding chair at that last party, strumming some dumb riff with her sleeves rolled up. Ellie’s tongue between her teeth as she focused on a game. Ellie’s hands – fuck – Abby bit her lip hard enough to sting.

She moaned. Loud. Didn’t care. No one was there. She was soaked. Ruined.

Her hips stuttered. She pressed harder. Gasped something wordless.

“God– Ellie– fuuuck–”

It hit her sharp and hard, all at once, curling her spine as her muscles locked up. She rode it out like a wave, like punishment, nails digging into the jersey’s hem as her body convulsed through it.

When it ended, she was trembling. Breathing like she’d run drills for an hour straight.

The jersey clung to her, damp. She didn’t move. Didn’t want to look at herself.

She never did afterward.

Abby laid there for a while, still in the jersey, still sweating. The room was dead quiet except for her breathing – slow, shaky, uneven. Her thighs ached and she definitely needed to have a drink.

The ceiling didn’t offer any comfort.

She finally moved, only because she hated feeling gross. Peeled the jersey off with a grimace and tossed it back toward the drawer. Missed. It landed half-off the bed, crumpled.

She couldn’t look at it right now.

Her whole body felt hollow, like something had burned through her from the inside out. Not in a good way. Not in a relieved way.

In a sick way.

She knew this wasn’t normal. Normal girls didn’t steal their teammate’s clothes. They didn’t memorize their schedules, didn’t lay awake imagining what their hands would feel like wrapped around their throat, or worse, worse than that, gently caressing their skin.

She sat up. Rubbed her face hard like it might knock something loose.

Ellie wasn’t even nice to her. They bantered, sure. Talked during drills. Tossed barbs back and forth. But it was surface-level. Shallow. Friendly only in the way teammates had to be. Ellie didn’t think about her. Not like that.

And if she did find out – about the jersey, about the staring, about the thoughts…

Abby’s stomach turned.

She stood, went to the bathroom, and splashed water on her face until her skin stung. Tried to remember who she was supposed to be. Cool. Unbothered. Normal.

By the time she came back out and laid in her bed, the jersey had been shoved back in the drawer, buried under sweatpants and shame.

She needed to stop. Really.

She would.

Just… not tonight.

Besides the fact she was touching herself wearing Ellie's jersey, Abby's obsession would still spiral out of control.

It started with a post.

Well – no. That wasn’t true.

It started with a deep scroll through Ellie’s Instagram.

Abby had done it before, plenty of times. Creeped through every post, every tagged pic, watched every story. Sometimes she zoomed in on Ellie’s hands, sometimes her smile, sometimes her neck. She knew her usernames on three different platforms. Had one of her old TikToks saved just to replay the sound of her laugh.

But this time, it hit different.

Ellie had posted a story. A blurry group shot. Ellie, Dina, Jesse – arms slung over each other’s shoulders, sunburnt and sweaty, laughing at nothing. Abby stared at it too long. Dina’s free hand was on Ellie’s leg. Ellie didn’t seem to mind.

She read the comments.

miss u, from Dina.

best day ever, from Jesse.

Abby’s jaw clenched. Dina again. Dina always showing up. Always in the background. Always too close. Abby had seen her in person – small, loud, pretty. Confident. Probably didn’t even realize the way her voice went smooth when she talked to Ellie. It wasn’t fair.

Abby clicked off the post. Locked her phone. Sat there. Then, like a joke, like a dare to herself, she opened Ellie’s profile again.

And hit follow.

Just to see. Just to do it. Just to see if she’d notice.

But then the regret hit her. 

Damnit. Why would I follow her out of nowhere? What is she gonna think?

She didn’t expect anything, chewing on her lower lip and pacing her dorm.

But Ellie followed back that same night.

Abby stared at the notification like her phone had been lit on fire. Her chest felt tight. Her skin hot. She laid back on her bed and gripped her phone like it might vanish.

Ellie saw her.

She noticed her.

It felt like a drug hitting all at once.

So Abby posted a photo. She wanted to be seen by Ellie.

Nothing special – mirror pic, post-gym, cropped just enough to show off her arms, her sweat, the slope of her waist. She hadn’t posted in months.

Ellie liked it within the hour.

Abby gasped. Actually gasped.

And then she was gone – back under the surface, tumbling into a frenzy. Her hands were shaking as she pulled her shirt over her head, as she dropped back onto the bed and dragged the jersey out again. This time she didn’t even bother to hesitate.

Ellie liked her photo. Ellie thought she was hot. That meant something. That had to mean something.

The rest was instinct. Heat. Hunger. Desperation disguised as hope. By the end of the night, Abby had come twice and was still shaking. And the sickest part?

She was already planning what to post next.

Except she didn't have to, because apparently Ellie was surprised by her follow, as well.

The message came in just past midnight. Abby was half asleep, half scrolling, still buzzing faintly from earlier.

@ellliepostpunk: finally decided to follow me instead of just watching my stories like a creep lol

Abby sat bolt upright.

Her stomach dropped. She read it again. And again. She felt cold all over, like she’d been caught doing something illegal.

How long had Ellie noticed? Had she actually been watching? Or was this just her being snarky?

Abby didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. Her fingers hovered over the screen, then retracted like she’d touched something hot.

Fuck, shit.

She wanted to disappear. Crawl out of her skin.

Then another buzz.

@elliepostpunk: at least now I get to look at those out of practice

It hit like a slap and a kiss at the same time. Abby’s heart lurched. Her mouth went dry. Those? Ellie was talking about her… muscles?

Ellie was flirting.

Maybe. No. Definitely.

Abby didn’t know what to say – didn’t trust herself to respond without sounding either too cold or too desperate.

She typed, backspaced. Typed again. Settled on:

@abby.anderson: Figured it was time you got that privilege 

As soon as she sent it, she cringed. Way too much. What the fuck was she thinking?

But Ellie responded instantly.

@elliepostpunk: damn captain lol

@elliepostpunk: I really gotta start getting to practice on time more often

Abby chewed on her lower lip.

Ellie saw her. Ellie liked what she saw.

And now Abby was completely fucked.

@abby.anderson: If only I knew before that this is what it took for you to come early to practice.

@elliepostpunk: it probably isn't

She scoffed. She's such a fucking pain…

They kept texting. Not constantly, but enough to make Abby feel like she was going insane. Little things. Game scores, dumb comments about practice. Ellie had a way of making everything sound like a dare, even through a screen.

But at practice? Barely anything. A nod. A smirk. Once, Abby caught her watching mid-drill, eyes half lidded, lazy and amused. Ellie just raised a brow like what?, then turned away. Abby nearly fumbled the ball.

Then came the invite.

"You smoke?" Ellie asked after practice, toweling off, voice casual.

Abby blinked. "Uh. Sometimes.”

"You wanna come by after? My place."

Abby’s heart stopped. She managed a shrug, casual as she could fake. “Sure… Is anyone else coming?”

“Nope.”

Abby said “cool” like she wasn’t already spiraling.

Ellie’s dorm was small, cluttered and warm. Posters on the wall – bands Abby almost recognized, horror movie prints, a crooked photo strip of her and Dina stuck to the mini fridge. A guitar in the corner, case open. Ashtray on the windowsill.

“You can sit,” Ellie said, flopping back onto her bed and tugging her hoodie off by the collar. “I don’t bite.”

Abby moved like she was being filmed. Sat down on the edge of the bed, stiff, aware of everything. Doing her best not to seem that way.

Ellie was rolling a joint one-handed on a notebook, slow and practiced. Her fingers were stained with graphite and resin. Abby wanted to suck on them.

“Practice sucked today,” Ellie said, licking the edge of the paper. “No offense, Captain.”

Abby cracked a smile. “None taken. You missed half the drills.”

“I was emotionally present,” Ellie said. “That counts for something.”

She lit the joint and took a long drag, leaned her head back, then offered it over. Abby took it with a steady hand and a barely-concealed rush of panic.

“You smoke a lot?” Ellie asked.

“Not really,” Abby said, exhaling. “Sometimes. With friends.”

Ellie smirked. “So, never?”

Abby coughed. “Basically.”

They passed it back and forth. The silence between them was warm, a little hazy. Ellie sprawled across the bed, propped up on her elbow now, eyes half-lidded and trained on Abby like she was a painting she couldn’t figure out.

“You’re weird,” Ellie said eventually.

Abby blinked. “Thanks?”

“No, like, you’ve got this whole cool, stoic thing going,” Ellie said, gesturing vaguely. “But I see you. You’re always watching.”

Abby’s heart stuttered. “I’m the team captain. I’m supposed to watch.”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah, but you watch me.”

Abby froze.

Ellie didn’t say anything for a second. Just took another drag. Let it hang.

“You like girls?”

Abby’s throat closed. “Why?”

Ellie shrugged. “Just wondering.” A pause. “You look like you do, but I might be leaning into some buff girl stereotype or something..”

Buff girl. She noticed her body. Not like anyone wouldn't, but it was Ellie. Calling her buff.

Abby’s brain was static. “I… yeah. I do. I mean. I like girls.”

Ellie smiled slowly, like she already knew. “Cool.”

Just that. No follow-up. No push. She passed the joint over again and changed the subject, started talking about some open mic night Dina wanted her to play at. Like it wasn’t a bomb that had just gone off in Abby’s head.

But Abby couldn’t focus. Couldn’t hear anything.

She'd noticed her so much more than Abby could've ever guessed.

And she wasn't disgusted. She didn't push her away, she invited her in. Still, Abby knew that Ellie would never, could never know about her secret. The stolen jersey. The… stalking. 

It was shameful. She had to remind herself that it wasn't normal, that she had to stop. That she had to throw Ellie's jersey in the trash, and apologize profusely to whichever God was listening.

And for that night, nothing else happened. Ellie got high enough to start yawning and Dina came back to the dorm, which resulted in an uncomfortable Abby saying her goodbyes and running back to her dorm– she knew her underwear was wet and maybe she'd have time to use her vibrator before her roommate came back from class.

And the jersey, well. Abby fell asleep with it on her body.

Unfortunately.

The knock dragged her out of a dream she couldn’t remember. Abby blinked awake, face pressed to the pillow, skin damp with sleep.

Her roommate normally left in the morning, quietly. She was thankful for that, but now there was an annoying knock pulling her out of her sweet sleep. Probably not the roommate.

Another knock. She was pissed.

“Shit…” she mumbled.

She stumbled out of bed, the stolen jersey still clinging to her body like second skin – wrinkled, warm, far too familiar. She didn't even acknowledge it.

Abby yanked her door open without thinking, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

And froze.

Ellie stood there. Hoodie, jeans, hair a little messy, eyes unreadable. Her lips were parted like she was gonna say something, but the view of Abby in that jersey, with those bare thighs, clearly took her words away.

She was holding Abby's jacket in her hand. Shit, I probably forgot it last night.

Abby’s blood turned to ice.

“Oh,” she croaked. “Uh. Hey.”

Ellie tilted her head. Looked her up and down. Her gaze stopped at the jersey again.

Her own jersey.

Then she stepped inside without asking. Abby backed up instinctively, like prey.

“Nice shirt,” Ellie said, shutting the door behind her. Her voice was light, teasing. Dangerous. “Where’d you get it?”

Abby opened her mouth. Nothing came out. Her hands were shaking.

Ellie walked farther in. Looked around like the little gremlin she was. Saw the mess of the bed. The edge of the purple vibrator, barely hidden beneath the pillow after Abby moved all night. Her eyebrows lifted slightly.

Abby wanted to hide it, but it was too late.

“Ohhh.” Ellie turned to face her again. “You nasty little creep.”

Abby flinched. “Ellie, I– fuck– I didn’t–”

But Ellie was already closing the space between them. Still smaller, but somehow towering now, pressing forward until Abby’s legs hit the edge of her roommate's bed.

“You wore my stuff to get off?” Ellie’s voice was low now. Closer to a growl than a question. Her eyes studied the way the fabric clung to Abby's body, but something else caught her eye on the fabric, “Is that your cum on my jersey?”

Abby could barely breathe. Her body was trembling. Shame burned across her face, her chest, down to her thighs. And Ellie was so fucking close. And she smelled so fucking good.

“I–”

But Ellie didn’t wait for an answer. She leaned in, one hand pressing against Abby’s stomach, pinning her roughly to the mattress behind her. The other hand curled around the hem of the jersey.

“That’s really fucking hot,” she whispered. “You little stalker. You gotta pay for that.”

Abby’s eyes widened, looking up at her now. Her heart was going to explode. She likes it?

“Are you wearing anything under this?” Ellie asked, looking at her muscular thighs, gaze heavy.

“Just– boxers.”

Ellie made a sound – somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. “God, you’re so fucked up.”

Her hand slid lower, fingertips ghosting over the waistband of Abby’s boxers, just barely touching. Her mouth was right at Abby’s jaw, close enough to feel every shaky breath.

Abby didn’t move. Couldn’t. She was frozen and burning at the same time, staring at Ellie like she was about to wake up.

“You think about me like this?” Ellie murmured. “When you wear it? When you grind on your little toy with my number on your chest?”

Abby whimpered before she could stop it. Her legs were shaking.

Ellie smiled, all wicked teeth and smug heat. “That a yes?”

Abby swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Yeah,” Ellie whispered, pressing closer, hand gripping Abby’s thigh now. “I knew you were watching me. Thought maybe I was imagining it. But no. You’re a stalker.”

Abby’s voice cracked. “I didn’t mean–”

“Don’t care,” Ellie said, and then she kissed her.

Abby melted. Instantly. Her hands grabbed at Ellie’s hoodie, yanking her close like she was scared she’d vanish. The kiss was rough, frantic, teeth clashing, all breath and heat and desperation.

Ellie shoved her back onto the bed without breaking it, crawling up with her, straddling her waist like she’d done this before. Like she owned her.

Abby let her.

Because this was better than every fantasy. Better than the jersey, the vibrator, the photos, the whispers in the dark.

Ellie was real. Ellie was here.

And she liked it.

Ellie didn’t give her room to breathe. She kissed like she was claiming territory, teeth dragging, lips bruising, tongue deep in Abby’s mouth before she could even moan.

Abby bucked beneath her, helpless.

Ellie’s hand slid under the jersey – her own goddamn jersey – and found skin. Damp, hot, trembling. She ran her fingers up Abby’s stomach and smirked, feeling up her soft, small tits, her nipples hardening against her fingers.

“God,” she muttered. “You really fucking wore this just to jerk off, huh?”

Abby couldn’t speak. Could only nod, gasping.

But that wasn’t enough. Ellie pulled back just enough to look down at her, pinning her with those sharp, green eyes.

“Tell me,” she said. “How’d you even get it?”

Abby’s voice was barely there. Ellie pinched her nipple. Now she cracked. “Stole it.”

“From where?”

“Your– locker.”

Ellie groaned. She rocked her weight forward, grinding down just slightly. “Jesus. You’re such a pervert.”

Abby whimpered. Her eyes were glassy. “I’m sorry–”

“Bullshit,” Ellie snapped, hand sliding through her skin under the jersey. “You’re not sorry. You fucking came on it, didn’t you?”

Abby’s head fell back. “Yes.”

Ellie kissed her neck, breath hot and moist. “How many times?”

“I don’t know,” Abby gasped. “T-Too many.”

Ellie laughed, biting down just enough to make her squirm. “Sick little stalker. What else? You watch my stories while you touch yourself?”

Abby’s whole body flushed. Her boxers were soaked. “Yes– fuck– yes.”

Ellie’s hand slid between her legs, pressing the heel of her palm into her center through the fabric of the – already soaked through – boxers. “Yeah? Did you imagine me knowing? Looking at you like this?”

Abby cried out, legs spreading instinctively. She needed more. “Yes, yes, please… Ellie…”

But Abby knew she wasn't looking at her with complete disgust, no. Ellie looked at her like she wanted to devour her, piece by piece.

“God,” Ellie muttered. “You fucking like that. You really are sick…”

Ellie’s fingers slid beneath Abby’s waistband, and the sound Abby made was downright obscene– somewhere between a gasp and a sob. She could feel her soaked folds, sliding along the slit until her fingers caught on her engorged clit.

“Fuck,” Ellie muttered, brows raised, “you’re soaked.”

Abby couldn’t even look at her. Her head was tilted back, jaw slack, body trembling under the weight of being seen. “Y-Yeah.”

Ellie leaned in again, lips brushing her ear. Her fingers rubbed on her clit in slow circles, sliding too easily through her wetness. “You like being used like this, huh?”

Abby nodded helplessly. “I want you to. Please.”

That lit something in Ellie’s chest, something primal. She pulled her hand out just long enough to shove Abby’s boxers down her thighs, rough and quick.

And then she was back on her, pushing two fingers in without hesitation, fucking her deep, like she owned her. Abby arched, her hands flying to grip the bedsheets like she was going to float out of her own body.

Ellie bit at her throat, marking her. “Say it again.”

Abby could barely breathe. “Use me– fuck– harder, please–”

Ellie curled her fingers just right, just perfectly cruel. Abby broke, voice cracking, legs shaking, body jerking against the bed. The wet schlick of the fingers invading her cunt even louder now.

“Holy shit,” Ellie hissed, watching her fall apart. “You’re so fucking hot.”

And Abby just whined. “Please don't stop–"

She was whispering things Ellie could barely make out, begging, promising, rambling about how good she felt, how many times she’d thought about this.

Ellie was soaked in her own jeans, high on power, high on Abby.

When Abby came, it was loud. Desperate. And Ellie didn’t stop. She pushed her through it, grinning as Abby gasped and squirmed, as her whole body twitched beneath her, feeling her wetness coat her fingers and spurt onto her arm as well. 

That was enough to make her groan, aching to kneel and clean Abby with her mouth.

She slowed eventually, fingers slipping out, hand gliding up Abby’s thigh as she leaned over her wrecked body.

Abby was blinking up at the ceiling, lips parted, breath shaky. She looked ruined. Beautiful.

Ellie hovered just above her, wiping her fingers on Abby’s – well, her jersey. “... You keeping that?”

Abby nodded weakly.

“Good,” Ellie said. “Guess it looks better on you anyway.”

Then she kissed her again – slow, this time. Possessive.

“Now keep those pretty thighs open. ‘M not done with you yet, you little pervert.”

Abby shuddered. Ellie Williams is going to kill me.