layalisthings

[layalisthings]

clingy!abby who sets an alarm 5 minutes early before work so she can snuggle before she leaves

clingy!abby always sitting on the same side of the booth as you when you go out to eat

clingy!abby always wrapped around you from behind, her head on your shoulder

clingy!abby who’s hand is always in your lap

clingy!abby pressing kisses to your temple whenever you’re around other people

clingy!abby who always wants to just go home and cuddle

clingy!abby sipping from your straw and sneaking food off your plate

clingy!abby living in an “i ❤️ my gf” shirt

clingy!abby playing with your hair and telling you how beautiful you are

clingy!abby always pulling you into her lap, tangling your legs together

clingy!abby always knowing what you need before you even have to ask

clingy!abby stopping by to see you on your break and bring you lunch (with a little note slipped inside)

[layalisthings]

And they were roomates

nerdcollege!abby x femcollege!reader

“Room 302”

You can feel Abby’s eyes on you again—sharp, silent, disapproving. You’re sprawled across your bed, phone raised above your head, fingers moving fast as you send another voice note in the group chat.

“You ever gonna open that textbook?” Abby’s voice cuts through the room like a knife through quiet.

You roll onto your side and glance over. She’s at her desk, back straight, highlighter moving across a page like she’s painting a masterpiece. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands sticking to her forehead. She hasn’t looked away from the page, but she doesn’t need to. You already know the look on her face.

“I’m multitasking,” you say, gesturing lazily with your phone.

She finally looks up. “Multitasking?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Pretty sure TikTok doesn’t count as prep for midterms.”

You grin. “Hey, there’s educational content on here. I saw a guy explain quantum physics using cats and Red Bull.”

Abby closes her book with a loud thunk. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

She exhales—more tired than annoyed. You think she might actually be used to you by now. It’s been three months, and despite your late-night voice calls, early morning music blasts, and a general aversion to productivity, she hasn’t requested a room change. Not once.

You sit up and cross your legs. “Wanna watch a movie instead? You look like you need a break.”

Abby narrows her eyes. “You’re trying to corrupt me.”

“I’m trying to save you. You’ve been studying since lunch. Your brain is gonna melt.”

She hesitates, and for a second, you think she might say no. But then she sighs, pushes back from her desk, and grabs the remote.

“If I fail this test because of you, I’m writing your name on my scantron.”

You snort. “At least we’ll go down together.”

And as the movie starts, and she finally smiles for the first time all day, you can’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—being annoying has its perks.

⸻

You’re out of breath, hoodie half-zipped, and the panic in your chest is loud enough to drown out your thoughts as you bang on the dorm door like your life depends on it. Because, honestly? It kind of does.

“Abby! Abby, open up! Please! I’m gonna die!”

The door swings open a few seconds later. Abby stands there in sweatpants and an oversized shirt, glasses perched low on her nose, a protein bar in one hand and her usual look of exhausted patience in the other.

You’re practically vibrating. “Midterms. Abby. I don’t know anything. I looked at my notes and it’s like ancient Greek.”

She blinks once. “So you’re finally realizing you’re screwed.”

“Yes! And I need you to unscrew me. Academically. Please.”

Abby takes a long, dramatic bite of her protein bar, chews, and then says, “No.”

Your jaw drops. “No?!”

“No,” she repeats, adjusting her glasses. “I’m walking to the café. I need caffeine. And distance.”

And with that, she steps past you and starts walking down the hallway like some calm, towering goddess of discipline and disappointment. You scramble to catch up.

“Abby. Abby, come on. You’re, like, my only hope. Everyone else is worse than me. Paulina thought the French Revolution was about baguettes. Please.”

She keeps walking, not even sparing you a glance as she pushes through the dorm exit and into the brisk air. “Should’ve thought about that before you decided to major in group chat politics instead of psychology.”

You groan. Loudly. The café’s across campus. It’s going to be a long walk. But you’re committed now. You trail after her, spewing every excuse and half-baked promise you can think of.

“I’ll buy you coffee! I’ll clean our whole room! I’ll go to class! I’ll—”

You reach the café’s doors just as Abby pulls one open. You tug gently on her arm, face scrunched in a dramatic plea. “Abby. If I fail, I’ll have to retake the class. With a professor who hates me. And I’ll cry. You hate when I cry.”

She pauses, hand still on the door. Her expression softens—just a little—and she exhales like this is the most exhausting favor anyone’s ever asked of her.

“Fine,” she mutters, holding the door open wider. “But I’m quizzing you over coffee. And if you get one question wrong, I’m making you delete TikTok for the rest of the semester.”

You gasp. “You are cruel. You’re cruel, Abby Anderson.”

And yet, as you both step into the warm, espresso-scented air of the café, you can’t help but grin. Because even when she rolls her eyes and pretends to hate you, she still shows up.

⸻

It’s been a few days since the café. Abby hasn’t said anything about how well you did, or how she’s been quietly rewriting her study materials so they make more sense to you—not the textbook. But you can feel it in the way she starts pausing after each card, letting you come to the answer in your own weird, roundabout way. She doesn’t roll her eyes as much. Doesn’t sigh as dramatically. Sometimes she even lets your ridiculous examples stand without correction.

Tonight, you’re in the dorm. Your side’s a mess, as usual. Her side? Not a single thing out of place—except for the fact that her desk is currently occupied by both your notebooks, two mugs of tea (hers mostly untouched), and a bowl of chocolate covered pretzels you brought in as a peace offering.

Abby sits across from you, legs crossed, pen tapping against her knee. Her glasses are slipping again. You wonder if she knows how often she pushes them up when she’s trying to hide a smile.

“Okay,” she says, holding up a card. “Explain confirmation bias.”

You lean back on your elbows and smirk. “That’s when you only look for stuff that proves you’re right. Like how I keep ignoring my grades and focusing on the one time a professor said I had potential.”

She snorts. “That’s… not wrong.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She looks down at the flashcard. “Next question.”

But the corners of her mouth are still tugged upward, just a bit. She flips the card and throws you another one. “Defense mechanisms. Give me two.”

You hold up a finger. “Projection. Like when you get mad at me for not studying, but really you’re mad at yourself for how much you secretly enjoy our study sessions.”

Abby raises an eyebrow.

You add a second finger. “And denial. Like how you’re pretending you don’t love my sense of humor.”

She rolls her eyes so hard it almost counts as a stretch. “That’s not how those work.”

“It’s how I work.”

She looks up at you then, chin tilted slightly, and there’s something unreadable flickering behind her glasses—like she’s trying to figure you out, again. You hold her gaze a second too long before she glances away and pretends to reorganize the cards.

The air shifts, just a little. Not a full change. Not serious. But enough that the room feels warmer, more charged.

You break the moment with a grin. “What, no lecture this time?”

“I’m saving it for when you inevitably crash mid-sentence because you’ve been running on caffeine and chaos.”

“You care.”

“I’m invested in not watching you spiral.”

“You care a lot.”

She looks at you again. This time, it lingers. “Shut up and read the next definition.”

You don’t. Not right away. You study her instead—how she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s holding something back, how her fingers flex slightly when she’s annoyed and trying not to show it. How she doesn’t push you away when the flirting starts to sneak in like a slow drip. She just… lets it hang in the air.

You flip a flashcard.

“Okay,” you say. “Final question: which defense mechanism is it when you pretend not to like your annoyingly charming roommate?”

Abby lets out a sharp breath through her nose. Her mouth quirks into a reluctant smile, but she doesn’t look up. “That’s called repression,” she mutters, scribbling something in her notebook.

You’re grinning. “Interesting. Very, very interesting.”

She doesn’t say anything.

But her ears are a little red.

And she still hasn’t told you to stop.

⸻

The dorm’s gone quiet. Flashcards are stacked neatly on Abby’s desk, tea mugs mostly drained, and the study buzz has simmered into something slower, more still. You stretch, groaning dramatically, then grab your towel and shower caddy.

“I’ll be quick,” you say, already halfway to the door.

Abby doesn’t look up. “Please don’t flood the hallway again.”

“No promises.”

You disappear down the hall, the sound of the shower starting a minute later.

Abby brushes her teeth in silence in the bathroom while you’re showering. Taking a quick glance outside to your side of the room—half a disaster zone, half a lived-in mess she’s begrudgingly gotten used to. She spits, rinses, and wipes her mouth on the towel hanging by her bunk.

The shower shuts off.

You return, wrapped in a towel and rubbing at your damp hair, cheeks pink from the heat. You don’t say anything as you dig through your drawer for a sleep shirt, but Abby catches the slight grin on your face when you realize she’s watching and turns quickly back toward her bed.

You change with your back to her. Nothing dramatic—just cotton and routine and maybe a heartbeat that’s a little too loud for no real reason. You crawl into bed, exhale, and reach to turn off the lamp.

Darkness swallows the room in a soft, shared quiet.

“Goodnight, Ab’s,” you mumble into your pillow.

There’s a beat.

“Don’t call me that,” she says automatically, voice low.

You roll over slightly, just enough to peek through the dark. Waiting.

And then, softer:

“Goodnight.”

You smile, eyes already slipping closed.

Abby turns her face to the wall, tugging the blanket up—and hiding the small, involuntary smirk that’s found its way to her lips.

⸻

[layalisthings]

pro-wrestler!vi who shows you some moves, grinning at the sound of your giggles as she playfully throws you around. she shows you how to take someone into a chokehold, gently teaches you how to do a bodyslam, and even how to jump off the ropes in a launch attack.

it's all fun and games until you, hiccuping from your laughter, say, "okay, now teach me how to do a full nelson," and vi goes still. her mind halts, once innocent thoughts turning indecent.

the way you smile at her tells her that you don't know the more debauched side of the position. how it's not only a wrestling move but also one involves something...dirty.

vi swallows, body flushed, as she tries not to think about it too much. but it's hard when she already knows what you sound like caught in ecstacy, all fucked out and needy. and then to add that onto the vision of you folded in half, legs cradled by her arms as she thrusts up—

"vi?" your voice slices through her thoughts, and when she sees you, you look concerned.

"are you okay?" you ask, moving a little too close. "you're all red."

"i'm fine," vi's voice cracks horrendously, causing her to clear her throat with a cough. "um, i'm fine, i'm okay." she takes a deep breath, sets her hands on her hips and forces, what she hopes, a smile that looks normal.

"so...full nelson?"

you nod excitedly.

vi is doomed.

[layalisthings]

[layalisthings]

DOWN, GIRL!

outlaw ! abby anderson x bartender ! reader

summary: working another mundane shift at the bar surprisingly brings in a tall, muscular blonde. the two of you share sweet moments— compliments, pointless banter, you even end up opening up to her about your confined past. each second you spend with abby, you find yourself falling deeper into infatuation. but, it’s not until later you find out she’s not exactly who she says she is, causing a cluster of problems to occur.

content: alcohol consumption. death. angst. fluff. strangers to lovers to enemies. one-sided hatred. hurt/comfort. humor. mutual pining. eventual smut. oral. flirting. aftercare. set in the late 1800’s. will updated as i write.

word count: estimated to be around 7-10k. comment/reblog to be tagged when uploaded! inspired by this ao3 series.

note: making my first one shot like whaaaattt ! i’m hoping to get this out before june, but my motivation comes and goes. i’ll be working on requests in the meantime, so feel free to send somee. i’m actually so excited for this, you guys don’t even know.

[layalisthings]

reverse cowgirl tribbing with vi <3

pairing: vi x fem!reader

mdni, smut, tribbing, TRIBBING!!, reverse cowgirl, top!reader sub!vi, little sprinkle of ass stimulation(r!recieving)

a/n: this position feels so good fuck.

your pussy was dribbling onto vis, a string of arousal connected to her as you moved you hips up and down, back and forth, your ass and pussy on perfect display, back arched perfectly.

you looked back at her, and what you saw made you throb and your cunt flow more wetness. her lips were parted, her eyes pouty as she stared at you, fixated on your form, one of her hands on your ass as you moved, the other one behind her head, she was completely naked, her breasts moving rhythmically as you moved, her abdomen muscles flexing beautifully. she was so gorgeous.

“nngh.. fuck yeah baby.. just like that..” her voice was strained, her breathing laboured. “yeah, right on my clit, right- there.” she had to suck in a breath mid sentence as you backed it up on her clit creating the perfect friction. you took pride in the fact that you reduced someone so strong and someone who had taken down men twice, three times her size, and now she was reduced to a mess under you, her pussy slick and her clit throbbing against yours. your cunt gliding across hers, god you two were so wet both of your juices was dribbling down her ass onto the sheets.

“ah yeah..” you breathed as you kept your eyes on her, moving your hips, vis hand traveled up your spine and back down again, half guiding you.

“so fuckin perfect, love you like this..” she said thorough gritted teeth. “c’mon.. just a little more princess.”

with that, you began to sped up, now bouncing on her clit, making sure to get the perfect angle, vi gave a louder shaky moan at the change in pace, her hand stayed on your ass, her thumb slyly circling your asshole. the added stimulation was welcomed, you moved your hand to grip her calve muscle, your moans getting more higher in octave and more frequent. “fuu-uck ye-es..” her moans broken as you moved faster, “m’gonna fuckin cum.. ” “uh huh…” you coaxed “agh!” her head whipped back, her eyes squeezed shut, before she looked back up, trying her best to keep her eyes on you. “fuck.. fuck.. ah shit–!” with that final cry, vis cunt clenched around nothing, her walls pulsing and white creamy fluid leaking from her hole.

her orgasming made you follow straight after, both of your pretty moans filling the room as you came hard on her pussy, still bouncing on her chasing that high. “yes yes … fuck..” you babbled, after your moans die down and the intensity wears off you ride it out to the end, still rolling your hips drawing more moans from her.

“mmmh..” you hum, before wiping the sweat from your forehead and turning your body around, your legs a bit unsteady. you admired the mess you two had made. both your pussys shiny and slick with cum and arousal. vi finally got her bearings, flinching a little from sensitivity as you crawl on her, your knee bumping into her clit softly.

“shit princess… ” her hand came up to caress your back as you lay on her upwards now. “good job baby. you did so fuckin good.” you smile at the praise, feeling all warm inside. partly from your cum still leaking from your pussy.

as you snuggled, your leg was draped over her hip, you two enjoying the afterglow before getting cleaned up, vis sneaky hand moved down your back and then past your lower back and settled between your asscheeks, her fingers rubbed at your pussy, “mm.. round two?” you giggle. “and three.” she murmured against your ear, “and four.” you moaned between giggles as her fingers trace around your hole, “c’mere princess. can’t get enough of this perfect fuckin pussy.”

[layalisthings]

abby's the type of girl to give you a kiss, especially for greetings and farewells, and make a quick mwah sound because otherwise did the kiss really count ? :/ she could be rushing late to wherever but she is not leaving the house until she gets that kiss, and you better make the sound too or she'll pout like you kicked a puppy in front of her. which, you kinda did—expect the puppy you kicked is actually her heart. so dramatic.

[layalisthings]

Day 113 “cleansing” the #caitvi tl

We still on day 15 angst! Vi has found her 🤗🤗🤗🤗

Kofi

[layalisthings]

try it | v.a

summary: when you get partnered up with the most irritating and cocky soccer player on campus, you wonder why she has girls fawning over her left and right when she’s so… insufferable. not that you would want to know… right?

pairing: fem!cheerleader!reader x soccer player!vi

contains: modern!au, reader isn’t aware of her sexuality (yet…) but it’s not specified what sexuality the reader is, mature content (MEN & MINORS DNI 18+) — oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), choking, cocky-kind of douchey!vi, brat!reader (quickly turned sub!reader), dom!vi, morally wrong in a sense, mentions of reader being in previous relationship with a man (very brief!)

word count: 5.1K

a/n: cocky vi, save me! also thank you a MILLION @venomvalley & @strawberrykidneystone for reading this over and helping me edit it <3 u guys are angels. would y’all like a messy ass pt. 2? let me know! comments & reblogs are appreciated, lovelies <3

With every fiber in your being, you despised Violet.

You had seen her around your campus your freshman year of college. At first, you were undoubtedly intrigued by her neck tattoo and the fact that she was talking to one of your good friends and fellow cheerleader, Caitlyn. It was in passing on the way to one of your basics and for a second, she had caught your eye.

The way her eyes raked up and down your figure caused your skin to blaze, becoming uncomfortably flustered.

You knew Caitlyn was into women; not that it had bothered you in any way. You just didn’t understand why she was talking to someone who had trouble keeping their eyes on her.

The epitome of a narcissistic soccer player.

You would hear Caitlyn gush about her for the next month as you stretched before practicing the routines, visibly flushed at the thought of the girl.

One day, Caitlyn dropped you as you were coming down from flying as she seemed to be focused on something other than practice. Thankfully, it was just the football field but it still infuriated you. She explained how this Violet character had asked her to just be friends after they had slept together. The team consoled her and told her she wasn’t worth it, she deserved better and that she was way out of her league until your coach blew her whistle to get everyone back on track.

You hated to admit it but you were sort of relieved you wouldn’t have to hear about the pink-haired girl anymore.

Every single time Caitlyn had brought her up, you sort of tuned her out.

Not on purpose, but you didn’t really need to hear about how amazing Violet’s tongue felt. You had set in your mind from that point on you would be free of anything even remotely related to Violet.

To your surprise, walking into your 10 AM English Lit class your sophomore year, there the familiar girl sat in the third row of the stairs of seats and desks. You pause your steps before rounding around to the other side of the classroom, not wanting her to be in your eyeline.

You shake your head to yourself as you sit down on the fifth row where it had been scarce of students. The professor has yet to arrive to the class so you begin working on an assignment from your class from the previous day. As you scribble your name on top, a soft ‘psst’ fills the room.

You ignore it in hopes it isn't aimed at you. A few seconds of silence follow before a hand smacks the top of your paper, a ‘hey’ leaving their lips. Your lips purse in aggravation, inhaling a deep breath before tilting your head up at the person.

Violet’s face stares down at you with a slight head tilt and a skeptical smile.

“Yeah?” You raise your brows impatiently, wondering when the hell she even got up from her seat.

“I know you from somewhere,” she states, pointing the blunt end of her pencil at you accusingly.

You shrug your shoulders, shaking your head slowly. “I, uh, I’m not sure. We’ve never met before.”

Which is true. You know way too much about her from your cheermate, but the two of you have never formally met.

“Are you in my chem class?” She questions, her presence becoming more and more bothersome.

You suck in a deep breath, blinking up at her from your seated position.

“No. I don’t take chem.”

“Huh. Well,” the professor clears her throat which captures Violet’s attention, stopping her words before motioning over to her original seat. “I’ll leave you.”

You send her a more irritated grin, thankful that the professor was able to intervene.

“As I was saying,” your professor clears her throat again as her eyes flicker to every student. “It was posted this morning in my announcements the link to the list of partners for our final project. Please make sure to check it so that you can reach out to your partner to get started as this is 40% of your grade. The deadline is also in the syllabus. Do not wait until the last minute.”

Out of curiosity, you open your phone to press on the megaphone icon on her page to see the link that she had just mentioned. You watch the bright screen load to the list. Once it fully develops, you scroll down to find your name.

An uneasy feeling settles in your gut when you see the name typed in bold right next to yours.

Violet Lanes.

Your stomach churns at the sight, and you want to immediately beg for the professor to pair you up with anyone else in the class. You suck in a deep breath as you mentally prepare for her to figure out who you are. The duration of the class passes in the blink of an eye, the eerie feeling of what you’d have to endure with Vi lingered in the back of your mind.

As class is dismissed, you walk out of the door and are met with Vi leaning against a wall as she types something on her phone. You shake your head as you adjust the strap of your backpack before walking up to Vi with as genuine of a smile as you could muster.

“We’re partners for the final project.”

Vi looks up from her phone, blinking her… (actually, quite pretty) blue eyes at you.

“Really? You’re–”

“Yes. So,” you suck in a deep breath as you peer down the halls to make sure no one you knew was lingering around. “We could meet up at the library whenever we’re both free for, like, an hour or two so we can hopefully get this done before the due date. Then we won’t worry about it.”

And so I don’t have to be around you for more than I need to be, you thought.

Vi’s lips twitch into a small smirk. “Sure, princess. What’s your number?”

Your face prickles with heat, your irritation spiking at the nickname. What is with her calling you that?

After you offer your number, you bid her goodbye and walk away before she could keep you there for longer than you wanted. Yeah, maybe it's a little immature but, gods, being around her makes your head ache.

A few days later, you get a text from Vi saying she would be free on Wednesday after her soccer practice. You agree to that first meet-up at the library as you, too, would be out of cheer practice by 3.

It was a nightmare.

Every time you tried to get her back on track, she would flirt openly with the girls who were passing by, slipping them her number with a wink. They flushed and giggled at the confidence radiating off of her. Your face contorted in annoyance with every interaction.

Clearly, she can't be trusted in a public space to stay focused. After the second work meet-up, you turn to her with a flat expression.

“We’re going to my place from here on out.”

Vi’s brows furrow for a moment before slyly smiling. “Why?”

“You get easily distracted with people,” girls, “around. It’ll be better for the both of us if we start working on this at my place.”

Vi would make a douchey comment back, but it's clear in her compliance that she knows you're right.

“Fine. Text me your address. I’ll see you next Wednesday, princess?” She grins as she begins walking backwards, away from you.

“Sadly.” You call after her with an eye roll as you watch her chuckle at your response, before turning back on her heels to walk in the opposite direction.

You, for a split second, stare at her back from a distance, furrowing your brows at the ink peeking out from her compression tee. You blink and realize you were… checking her out. No, no, you were just wondering what her tattoo was.

Yeah. Just the tattoo.

After hanging out at Caitlyn’s place across the way, you catch Vi walking to your dorm.

“Hey, princess,” her eyes trail down to your outfit before locking gazes with you. “Don’t you look pretty? Come back from a date?”

You adjust your falling tube top as you avoid her eye-line, scoffing at her half-ass flirting.

“No. I was hanging out with my friend. Practice was cancelled for the day.”

“Well, I guess you can lead me to yours. I’ll follow you,” Vi motions in front of her to the concrete walkway.

You pause at her words before continuing forward, sucking in a deep breath as you try to not think about how you were just with Caitlyn. Why do you feel so guilty? You and Vi were assigned to be partners in this project: it was out of your control.

You must’ve gone silent, as Vi bumps your shoulder with a whistle.

“Hello? You just stopped talking mid-conversation. Are you okay?” Her brows raise with confusion and a hint of concern.

You blink then stare up ahead as you approach your dorm building. Ignoring her question, you reach into your purse to retrieve the key.

“This is me. Come on.”

Your steps speed up as you hold up the key fob to the electronic lock, watching the red light flicker green. Surprisingly, Vi grabs the door for you and motions for you to head in first.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

Vi nods with a soft ‘you're welcome’ before letting the door shut behind her.

“So you’re a cheerleader?” Vi questions as you two make your way to the elevator.

Your brows furrow as you lean forward to press the up button, glancing at Vi.

“Uh, yeah. What about it?” You wonder where she’s going with this.

“Nothing, dollface,” she shakes her head as she waits for the elevator with her arms folded in front of her chest.

You ignore how much her biceps bulge and focus on the fact that she’s given you another pet name. You sigh in relief as the doors open with a soft ding, a few students stepping out before you two step in.

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Vi says softly as her brows furrow and her eyes follow around the small space.

You side-eye her but keep quiet as your thoughts immediately cloud over with a thought: it could’ve been one of her one night stands or other girls that she led on for weeks or months until she got what she wanted from them.

“A friend?” You flatly question.

Vi shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, a… friend.”

Kill me now, you think as the doors finally open.

You both step out and Vi walks beside you, glancing down either end of the hallway. The second you approach your front door, you press your key fob onto the similar electronic lock.

You unlock your front door, hoping that your roommate, Sky, isn't home. She was usually at the lab around this time of day, but you had to make sure there was no one here. Vi lingers behind you as you twist the handle and use your shoulder to shove the old, heavy door open. You peak into your apartment with a relieved sigh to see no sign of her.

“Why are you looking around? This is your apartment, right?” Vi teases from behind you.

An angry heat rises up your spine at her words.

“Yes,” you seeth as you turn around to face her. “I was checking to see if my roommate was home.”

Vi merely grins at your flared nostrils and tense figure as she tilts her head at you.

“Aw, you ashamed of me, princess?”

You stare at her, unable to comprehend how girls just flock to her. You ignore her obvious attempt to press at your buttons as you suck in a deep breath, motioning to the still open door behind her.

“Could you close the door and lock it?” You ask her calmly.

Vi huffs out a breath before smacking her lips. “You know, a ‘please’ goes a long way.”

You're so close to shoving her out of the door and working on the project by yourself.

“Can you close the door, please?” You ask once again with a tight-lipped smile.

Vi presses her palm onto the heavy door and twists the silver lock with a soft click. She straightens her back so that she is next to you; somehow much closer than just a few moments ago. You swear for a moment that her long fingers brush past your own.

“Only because you were so nice about it,” she teases.

The amount of willpower it takes to hold back the eyeroll itching at you. You suck in a stabilizing breath to calm yourself.

“My bedroom is this way.”

Vi’s eyes widen at your words for a moment, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her baggy jeans.

“Wow. I didn’t think you were so easy, princess.”

You stop walking down the dimly lit hallway, turning on your heel to glare at Vi.

“If we’re going to get any work done, could you let up with the jokes?” You borderline sneer at her.

The only sort of reaction that you can emit from Vi is a cocky smirk. You're reacting exactly like how she wants you to; pushing you to see how far she could.

“Alright. I hear you loud and clear,” she holds her palms up in mock defeat, waving her white flag (for now).

You huff before, again, making your way down to your bedroom. You hold up your key fob and watch the light switch to green with a loud click. You’re hit with the airy scent of cinnamon and vanilla from your wallflower near the door.

“Damn. You cheer girls have nice ass rooms.”

You twitch at that. You cheer girls. Was she talking about Caitlyn? You shake it off as you walk over to wear your backpack that had been thrown on the ground near your bed, bending down to retrieve your notebook and grabbing your laptop from your desk from the other side.

Getting comfortable, you lay down stomach first on your bed.

“Let’s just… start, please.” You sigh as you flip your hair over to one side, huffing as you flip open your laptop to pull up your presentation.

Her hands go up again before she sets her own backpack down on the swivel chair in front of your desk.

“Jesus, okay. I promise the only person I’ll pay attention to is you, princess.”

You look up from your laptop, sucking in a deep breath.

“I’m the only other person in the room, Vi. And I have a name, you know.”

“I’m well aware, princess,” Vi says with a knowing grin.

You can’t believe how easy it is for her to get under your skin, but you can’t help but empathize with Caitlyn’s devastation with getting friendzoned.

“Whatever,” you murmur under your breath and turn your attention back to the matter at hand: the project that you are desperate to already be done with.

Vi shrugs her shoulders, grinning down at you before settling down to sit at your desk. You open your mouth to tell her to come sit next to you but catch yourself. She can stay across the room for all you care.

“Okay, so, I did a little bit of research on some of the most influential authors. I got some Shakespeare, Austen, Dickens. All of them. We could compare them?” Vi tells you as she flips through her notebook, completely taken aback by her words.

You take a beat before letting out a soft ‘yeah’. “We could do that. Like their writing styles?”

Vi nods as she looks from her notebook to catch your wide-eyed gaze. She scoffs and shakes her head.

“Don’t act so surprised that I did some work, gorgeous,” she leans back in your swivel chair, placing her sock covered feet on your bed.

“Well, before, you didn’t seem too interested in the work, so I think I’m allowed to be,” you snip back, again, ignoring the flirty compliment.

“What do you mean?” Vi questions as she tilts her head at you.

You roll your eyes before typing onto the PowerPoint presentation. “Don’t be stupid. You would flirt and hit on pretty much every girl who looked your way.”

Vi mutters a soft ‘oh’, a hum following.

“Well, don’t act jealous, princess,” she grins cockily. “You have my full attention now.”

You scoff at her before simply shaking your head.

Surprisingly, you're able to get a good amount of work done. You weren’t expecting Vi to be so… cooperative with you. The two of you bounce ideas off of each other without bickering. You can actually stand her for a moment.

Sadly, that lasts merely an hour before Vi stands up and stretches out her back before perusing around your room to look at everything that decorates your walls: photos of your friends, your cheer bows, a few posters, etc.

“Vi, what are you doing?” You sigh.

“Taking a small mental break. It’s great for cognitive function.” Vi hums as she holds up a little Sonny Angel that sits on your dresser top. “Do you ever do that or are you just always this tense?”

Your mouth falls open for a moment before shutting. Because you make me tense, your mind echoes.

“I’m not tense,” you slowly shut your laptop, as you want to make sure she doesn’t touch anything she’s not supposed to.

Vi snorts. “Sure. You got a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Someone to help ease whatever is up your ass?”

You squint your eyes at her as the word ‘girlfriend’ leaves her mouth. Your stomach tightens at the thought but you shrug it off in an instant.

“Boys are… just no. Not something I need to be wasting my time on.” You admit.

Which is true.

“And girls?” She rebuttals immediately.

You feel your throat dry up as you look down at your laptop cover to hide your face, avoiding eye-contact.

“Yeah, uh, not something I think about either,” you lie.

You have. A lot recently. You couldn’t tell if it was being around Vi every week or– Well, you don't know what else it could be.

“Hm. Well, since we’re still taking that break,” she walks back over to your queen bed, standing at the foot of the headboard. “I could help you relax.”

A sense of vulnerability settles in your chest as you peer up at her from your laid position, pressing up on your forearms.

“What do you… want to do?”

Your voice, for the first time around Vi’s presence, isn't snippy. It's soft and hesitant; your nerves showing as something in the air between the two of you shifts .

“Do you want me to help you?” Vi’s hand reaches out to brush a falling strand of hair from your face.

Your answer could change everything between the two of you. Is it stupid to hook up with your friend’s ex-situationship and your project partner? Incredibly. Probably one of the dumbest things you’ll ever do.

And yet, you nod slowly.

“No, gorgeous. Tell me,” Vi’s lips twitch as her thumb rubs over the plush of your bottom lip.

A gentle whisper leaves your lips. “Yes.”

The second Vi gets that confirmation, her hand leaves your face and she makes her way around the bed. Your heart thumps so fast that the sound clouds your hearing. You watch her every move with anticipation, not knowing what she plans for you.

“You’ll tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable, yeah?” She hums as she kneels on the mattress, the age of the mattress showing as it creaks from the springs.

Why couldn’t you come up with anything to snip at her with? The second she touched you, you were done for. Your breath catches in your throat as you mutter a ‘yeah’ and wait impatiently for any sort of touch to relieve that aching.

As you hoped, her hands start at the back of your mid-thigh, dragging up to the bottom of your skirt.

“This is cute,” she says cheekily, tugging at the material. “Panties are cute too. Are these bamboo or–”

“Are you going to be a dick about this or are you going to actually do this properly?” You huff.

A beat passes and you think you’ve fucked up. Until you hear a gentle chuckle from behind you.

“Oh, I think you like it when I do this. Tease you a bit,” her hands run underneath the skirt to cup both of your cheeks. “Make you want it more.”

Your breath hitches as your pussy lips spread underneath the soft material of your underwear. They weren’t anything too special; black cotton hipsters with polka dots. You're thankful for the color as you knew there was a humiliating wet patch where your slit is.

You hear her shift from behind as she sits in between your legs, her hands coming back down to your thighs to push them open.

The material of your skirt is lifted, resting at your hips. You lift your hips to help her a bit, a boost of confidence washing over you when you hear her mutter a soft curse as she gropes at your ass again.

You shiver when she thumbs right on the wet patch dampening your panties, humming in satisfaction.

“Fuck, princess. Getting your pretty panties all wet for me,” she groans as she seemingly grows impatient.

Her long fingers hook at the waistband of your underwear, pausing for a moment. You mutter an ‘it’s okay’ as she continues to tug them down your legs to toss them on the ground next to the bed.

Almost immediately, she teases at your puffy folds with her middle finger. You inhale sharply as you roll your head to try and keep yourself from pushing your hips up into her finger.

“When was the last time someone did this to you, hmm?” Vi leans over your body so that her lips brush over the shell of your right ear.

Your mind flashes memories of your pathetic ex complaining about his wrist hurting after fingering you for three minutes before he just fucked you until he came.

That was over a year ago.

“Too long,” you admit with a soft moan as she slides her middle finger into you.

You hate to admit how amazingly overstimulated you are by this alone. The feeling of her tits in her loose cut off tee against your bare back and her lips grazing over your ear leaves your eyes shutting to level yourself.

“Aw poor princess.” She taunts as she hums, placing a kiss under your ear.

You grumble a ‘fuck you’ in response, to which she chuckles at.

“Vi,” you grip at your sheets as you whine, a shiver running down your spine.

The squelch of your sopping cunt makes your head drop in embarrassment, but Vi has other plans. In a second, the hand that isn't fingering you wraps gently around your throat to lift your head up. You moan softly as she squeezes your throat once, her thumb pressing against your jaw to make sure you don't dare try to hide yourself.

“No, no, keep that pretty head up for me,” Vi grunts as she pumps her finger in and out of you.

You whine as you arch into her long finger, the feeling deliciously addicting. She only has one inside of you as she teases about how tight you are, but you need to be more full. Full of her.

Your mouth betrays you as a weak and breathy ‘more’ leaves your lips, another shiver tickling down your spine as she curls her fingers.

A deprecating chuckle leaves her lips as she presses a kiss to your hot cheek. You hate how wet it gets you to hear her speak to you in such a taunting tone.

“You want more, princess?” Vi questions, her scarred lip curling into a smirk.

You nod as she slows her pumping down. Fucking asshole, you think, but bite your lip to keep the snarky comment to yourself. She keeps pace at the slowest she can possibly muster.

“What did I tell you about saying ‘please’?”

Oh, you're going to kill her. After you come, of course.

You tilt your head back as she gives your throat another squeeze, panting as she rubs her nose against your jaw.

“Please, more. Fingers, please.” You whimper, submission overtaking you.

“Fuck, you sound so good for me.”

Hand still kept firmly around your throat, she pulls herself back just enough to watch her hand pumping in and out of you. She carefully slides in her pointer next to her middle finger and becomes relentless. Her thrusts send a rewarding burn up her forearm to her bicep.

Getting to see you like this makes it all the more sweet. Timid moans leave your pretty lips at the stretch of her additional finger. She can't believe this was the same girl who would roll her eyes nearly every time she spoke.

Now, she has your eyes rolling back in the way she’s been craving since she first laid eyes on you.

“Vi, oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

A familiar feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you clench down on her fingers, a hot flash running up from the base of your spine to your temple. Vi hums at your broken and higher pitched moans, not letting up as she watches your soaked and puffy folds engulf her.

“Oh, it has been long, gorgeous. Gonna cum for me?” She removes her hand from your neck to tug down the elastic part of your tube top.

Your tits spill out, bouncing as you rock back to match her pace. Your eyes and nose scrunch up as your jaw slacks from the stimulation. Vi’s free hand palms one of your tits, pressing herself up against your back once again to mutter praises in your ear.

“So fucking good for me. Cum all over my fingers, baby. Come on,” she grunts.

You cum with a loud, broken moan as one of your clenched palms moves to wrap around the wrist gripping onto your perked nipple, needing to hold onto her in some way. Your face falls forward and muffles your shaky whimpering as you come down from your high. Goosebumps raise to your skin as she carefully removes her fingers, smiling to herself at the feeling of your cum dribbling down her digits.

Your breathing, as it finally was slowing down, picks up when you feel Vi’s hands grab onto your hips and flip you on your back side. You yelp in shock as you sit up on your wobbly forearms to peer up at her.

“What the fuck?” You breathe out, eyes locked on her own.

“I want to see that pretty face when I make you cum on my mouth,” Vi says simply, like she wasn’t finger-fucking the thoughts out of you. “Unless you feel relaxed enough.”

You let a second pass before shaking your head slowly.

Vi grins cheekily as she raises her hand that was inside of you, holding it up to your bitten lips. Like you’d done it a thousand times before, your jaw opens to take them into your mouth to suck off your cum. She groans as you swirl your tongue around them to get every last drop.

Not bad, you thought. You made a show of it by humming around the skin and grabbing her wrist to gradually tug them out of your mouth with a soft pop.

“Shit, lay back for me.”

You do as you're told and spread your legs without an afterthought. Vi shuffles down your bed so that she lays on her stomach, hooking her forearms around your thighs to tug you toward her face, right where she wants to be.

She still sees the shine of your previous orgasm coating your puffy cunt. She moans as she leans forward to drag her tongue over your slit once to get a taste of you.

Oh, she wasn’t going to stop until her jaw locked.

“You taste perfect, gorgeous” her bright and hazy blue eyes peer up at you from in between your legs.

You hum as you raise a hand to move her falling strands out of her hair, cursing when she uses a hand to rub at your clit. The touch at the sensitive bud causes your cunt to clench around nothing. You miss Vi’s fingers inside of you and you want to strangle her because of it. Her tongue prods at your cunt, smirking when you clench around it for some sort of relief.

Fuck, Caitlyn was right.

“Just like that, Vi, please. Don’t stop,” you breathe out with a whimper.

Vi merely hums against your labia as she sucks on each fold, her fingers not letting up on your clit. The sounds alone drive you insane. She sounds … hungry for you, her motions messy and sloppy.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, you feel another stronger orgasm approaching. One of your hands mimicks her motion from before, groping harshly at your tit to pinch and roll your nipple in between your fingers.

“Vi, oh my god. Please, don’t stop. Shit, f-fuck,” you whine as your other hand finds her hair to grip onto.

Vi doesn’t dare change her movements, lapping her greedy tongue over your clit as your legs clamp around her head. She, with ease, holds back one of your thighs as she hungrily laps at you. Her eyes narrow at your hand, and she holds back her smirk.

She suckles on your clit and you swear your vision turns white as pornagraphic moans leave your mouth. You throw your head back as your hips buck up to chase your orgasm, sweat settling at the crevices of your hips. Your harsh breathing brings you back to reality, realizing how fucking tired and sticky you are. Every limb has become jelly at this point; boneless even.

As you try to stabilize your breathing, you hear Vi from in between your legs speak with a knowing tone.

“See? Breaks are good for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you slap her shoulder weakly as you let yourself fall back onto your bed.

Vi presses feathery kisses onto your inner thighs. Her soft laughter tickles the heated skin as you wipe a hand over your flushed face.

Maybe she wasn’t the worst partner you could have.

TAG-LIST: @cinnamonmilf @saturnhas82moons @sameshoeally @ferxanda @dosiji @bethowdie @ragoshmog @sawaagyapong @willurms @ellieslittleslutt @leeidk87 @alessabriel @mikellie @drunkenrosesluv @foresityyy @snuffphiliaa @hadesboneyard @rainbowdashparadise @itzsky82 @drunkalex @hitmehardmommy @moodient @chellecunttt @daughterofthemoons-stuff @unear7hly @oidloid @eeseooeos @violetszn @rosieeteaa @pnkreligion @agentsquid12 @satorix (crossed out users are ones it wouldn’t let me tag)

[layalisthings]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ big bad butch sevika who wants to come back home to her pretty wife making dinner. she buries her face in your shoulder and sniffs you like a puppy but you love her.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ big bad butch sevika who has some shitty days and some absolutely shitty days, so she comes home to her pretty wife and puts her face in your lap. “bad day?” “mhm...”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ big bad butch sevika who you have to lull to sleep because she's seen so much shit, she gets nightmares. she thrashes sometimes, you have to pull her to your chest and stroke her back, “youre not on the streets, im here.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ big bad butch sevika who needs you to bathe her when she feels too tired to move, muscles aching and cuts dripping with blood. you patch her up and give her a bubble bath because big bad butch sevika deserves the best of the best.

[layalisthings]

⟿ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒

✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 racer!vi x gf!reader / 0.8 k words ✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 strong language, slight angst ✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 Vi’s used to life at full throttle — sharp turns, roaring crowds, and flirting with danger at every lap. But when the woman she loves runs onto the track mid-race to save her from a stuffed bear, everything screeches to a halt. What starts as fury quickly unravels into fear, and Vi’s left facing the one thing she can’t outrun: the thought of losing her. ✩.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i loooove racer!vi and this is just the beginning !! i'm trying out new character arcs and i hope u're as excited as me :)

♡︎ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡︎

The race roared on — a blur of engine growls and rubber screaming against pavement. Vi was in the zone, takin’ turns sharp, her grip on the wheel like a vice, tires skimming the ragged edge of control. Sweat stung her brow under the helmet, but her eyes were steady, locked on the line, lap after lap like a heartbeat.

Then the crowd erupted — not the good kind of roar. No cheers. No gasps of awe.

It was the sound of something wrong.

Vi’s stomach dropped before her eyes even caught it. Just ahead, a flash of something small, brown, and soft — a teddy bear, ragdoll-limp and out of place on the cold black stretch of track. She barely had time to blink, to wonder who the hell—

And then she saw you.

Running.

A sunburst in the chaos. That stupid little yellow dress you loved fluttering in the wind, legs bare, sneakers slapping against the tarmac like you hadn’t just stepped into the jaws of death. Like it was nothing.

Like she wouldn’t die if anything happened to you.

“Shit—!” She slammed the brakes so hard her whole rig shuddered, fishtailing as the tires screamed. Her crew was yelling, scrambling in the pit, but it all faded behind the thundering of her pulse in her ears.

She tore her helmet off the second the car stopped, tossing it aside without a thought. Her boots hit the pavement hard as she bolted from the cockpit, chest tight, jaw locked so hard her teeth ached.

You were just barely past the barriers, clutching that damn bear to your chest like it was worth more than your life.

She was on you in seconds, heat rolling off her in waves, fury barely leashed behind her stormy eyes.

“What in hell’s name was that, darlin’?” Her voice cracked like a whip, low and laced with thunder.

You blinked, wide-eyed, voice soft and small. “I… I didn’t want you to hit it—”

“You ran onto the track for a toy?” Her voice sharpened, slicing through the air. “You runnin’ out there like you ain’t got a damn care in the world?”

You flinched as she stepped closer, and she hated that — hated how her hands found your arms a little too rough, how her fear bled out as anger. “That was a live track, sweetheart. You know what that means? That’s not a game. That’s a goddamn death sentence.”

“I just—” you started, but your voice faltered under the weight of her fury.

“You don’t just anything,” she hissed, trembling now, grip tightening before she caught herself and pulled back a little. “That ain’t brave, that’s reckless. That’s mine out there in danger and I ain’t—” Her voice broke, just for a second. “I ain’t standin’ for it.”

Your lips parted, stunned. Silent. You’d never seen her like this.

Vi’s breath hitched as she stared at you, eyes glassy, raw. All that rage— it was just fear, stripped bare. Her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a marathon. Then, slowly, she leaned in, forehead resting against yours, her hands gentling against your arms.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she whispered, the words ragged, choked by everything she couldn’t say. “You scared the hell outta me. I’ll tear this whole damn track apart before I let you get hurt like that.”

Her voice trembled, thick with tears she’d never let fall in public. “You’re everything to me, you hear? You don’t get to throw yourself in front of a fuckin’ car just ‘cause you’ve got a heart bigger than your common sense.”

You were still holding the bear, fingers curled tight in its worn fur. Slowly, you leaned into her touch, pressing your forehead back against hers.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, voice cracking. “I just… I saw it there and I thought of you. I thought— if you hit it, if it messed up your car—”

“I can fix a damn car,” she said, voice thick. “I can’t fix losing you.”

The silence that followed was loud — the kind that wraps around two people who’ve just realized how close they came to breaking. She pulled you in then, holding you so tight you could feel her heartbeat racing like it was still out there on the track.

Only now, it was just for you.

[layalisthings]

Abby Anderson back appreciation post

[layalisthings]

SUPER RICH KIDS | ufc fighter! abby anderson x model! reader

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you're a fairly notable model and a big fan of UFC newcomer, abby anderson. by a cruel twist of fate, you're caught liking a tik tok edit of abby on your main account. instead of backing down, you use unconventional methods to capture the attention of the fighter before the most important fight of her career.

notes: i have spent an unfathomable amount of time writing/rewriting this and i can't take it anymore! if i don't give in and post it now it's going to rot in my drafts forever

click here for my series masterlist.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, fem reader (she/her pronouns used), alcohol & drug use, oral (a! receiving), abby is gay & in denial + a huge fucking loser

word count: 10.5k

you had your phone set up against your vanity where you sat perfecting your makeup. you were only running to grab coffee with your friend who was stopping in town for a quick photoshoot. comments on your instagram live scrolled quickly on your phone as your ten thousand viewers all vied for your attention. 

“what have you been watching?” you read a comment aloud. you hummed in thought for a moment. “i honestly haven’t had a lot of time to watch stuff recently. fashion week is coming up and y’all know that’s my favorite time of the year.” one last look in your vanity mirror, and you decided your makeup was officially done. “however,” you begin “my ex got me really into ufc, so i always make time for that.” the comments immediately start with their guesses about the identity of this ex, as per usual. tabloids loved to make every small hangout a dating rumor. you ignored those comments and doubled back to your statement. “really, think about it. hot women beating the shit out of each other. one of television’s greatest gifts.” crying laughing emojis started rolling in. “i’m actually really excited for this next fight card.”

a text from your friend dings on your phone alerting you that she’s on her way to the cafe. your cue to end the live. “okay babes, thank you so much for chatting with me! i have to go, but i love all of you. mwah!” you blew a kiss at the camera before pressing the button to stop the broadcast. 

later that night, you’re laying in bed, staring at your phone. a crucial part of your nightly routine. it was as if your tik tok for you page had heard your earlier declaration and started showing you edits of different ufc fighters. you had no interest in the male fighters, scrolling past those videos with no hesitation. this idea did pique your interest. you tap over to the search tab, and type 

abby anderson edits

she was by far your favorite fighter. tear jerking underdog story and the icing on top of the cake was how hot she was. that long blonde hair that was always shiny and soft looking. her perfectly toned arms that you frequently envisioned wrapped around your waist. her long fingers that always prompted the most embarrassingly sinful thoughts. 

the post was a cinematic, yet concerningly horny, work of art. you double tapped the post and continued on with your idle scroll until you tossed your phone to the other end of the bed and fell asleep. 

the repeated buzzing of your phone pulled you from your slumber. the sun was blocked by your blackout curtains, so you had no real concept of time until you looked down at your phone. only a little after 11AM. the next thing that caught your eye was numerous texts in your groupchat with your friends: charlotte, cassidy, and lynzee. 

charlotte, you’d met at a grammy’s afterparty when she brought home the best new artist award. cassidy was your typical drug abusing miami rich girl skating by on daddy’s money. and lynzee was a model you had worked with so often that you became pretty close. after a few years of forcing everyone into close proximity, you were a merry band of semi-dysfunctional really rich friends. 

lynzee: bitch PLEASE check twitter

char: oml thats fucking embarrassing

cass: girl atp you gotta delete all your accounts and move to mars

you realized very quickly all of these texts were directed at you. your hands were shaking as you opened twitter. what could it be this time? 

your mentions were blowing up with the same screenshot. you had accidentally liked the edit of abby on your main account. the creator immediately noticed and posted the screenshot of the notification on twitter. you screamed into your pillow. there was no way to undo this. it was embarrassing, but not career ending. you thumbed back to the groupchat.

you: man fuck yall!! 

you: idk ig im gna double down lmao

you reopen the twitter app and quote the original tweet. 

uh oh. you guys caught me lmao

there was no real point in trying to claim you got hacked or that it was an accident. you would just ride the wave until everyone found something else to talk about. 

and after a couple days they did. it was left as an inside joke for your friend group in which they sent you every video of abby that they came across, irrevocably altering everyone’s social media algorithms.

thursday night your manager called while you were enjoying a lovely meal of doordashed sushi. her grating high pitched voice would’ve ruined your dinner if you weren’t already so used to it. 

“hey, tiff. what’s up?” you put the phone on speaker so you could pour your soy sauce and prepare your chopsticks.

“okay. hear me out– and listen to my full statement before you sigh, scoff, or say anything! i know how you are.” her words made you scowl, but you kept all reactionary noises to yourself. “okay, so tomorrow you’re hopping on a plane to las vegas. your most recent controversy with a certain ufc fighter was caught by some of the promotional execs at maison margiela.” you could only cringe in silence. did everyone know? “they want you to attend saturday’s fight card, show off some new pieces, maybe act cute and joke around, then you can go home.” tiffany paused. “now you may speak.”

“you just set this up without asking me? what if i had plans?”

“if you did, you didn’t run them by me and thus they don’t exist.”

truthfully, you didn’t have plans. you just didn’t want to relive the last 48 hours. people had finally given up teasing you online. in the past, people have called you every evil name under the sun, all of which you could brush off. this time you were publicly labeled as a horny freak. this time the allegations were true. 

you let out the sigh that tiffany anticipated from the moment you pressed the green answer call button. “what time is my flight?”

“good girl.”

and just like that, the very next day you were touching down in las vegas after your red eye flight. moving through TSA and the gates were a breeze. you slept for a few hours before your usual stylist met you at your hotel room. they took some measurements, showed you a few outfit concepts, and were on their way. you spent most of the day in bed in your hotel room, drumming up the energy to sit through hair and makeup later that night. 

abby’s fight was meant to begin around 10:30PM. while you had spent your time resting in bed, abby had been tirelessly working out, stretching, and psyching herself up. tonight was a big moment for her. she was slated to fight ellie williams, a certified fan favorite. her trainer was a hot shot old timer who retired a good twenty or so years ago. she essentially picked up his mantle, and everyone’s obsession with him trickled down into support for her. abby came from relatively humble beginnings. her trainer, isaac, had always remained rather private. he’d trained a few other fighters, but none of them had any real notoriety or staying power. abby wanted to break that pattern. she needed to prove herself tonight. 

it also didn’t help that ellie had talked so much shit about her and her fighting track record. most of the time it was something you did for cameras and then laugh about behind the scenes. ellie’s demeanor never changed on or off camera. as months went on, during weigh in, press conferences, and a million other events, ellie never failed to make a snide comment. months later, abby’s animosity was festering. every meeting turned into a pissing match complete with swearing and the occasional low blow. there was now a deep seeded rivalry (read: hatred) between the two of them.  

your hair and makeup had taken longer than expected, which pushed your stylist back, and now your driver was waiting and more irritated than usual. this night was already a clusterfuck and you hadn’t even gotten to the venue yet. 

you: are yall coming out with me tn?

you: pls say yes or i’ll die actually

lynzee: ya my plane landed a couple hrs ago lmk when you’re leaving your little event

char: couldnt get a flight for tn but i’ll see u tmrwwww

cass: i’m omw to the hotel rn 

no matter how stressful this night was, rest assured you would be getting trashed with your friends and none of it would matter in the morning. you tuck your phone into your bag and step out of the car. like always, there were a million camera flashes directed at you. dozens of people calling your name, asking some trivial question or another. there was only one question you were told to answer. 

“what are you wearing tonight?” a female reporter shouted over the crowd. 

“maison margiela. head to toe, baby.” you blew a kiss and waved at the cameras. while that exchange only lasted for approximately 120 seconds, the walk from the car to the venue entrance shaved at least ten years off of your lifespan. 

you were escorted to your seat with a perfect vantage point of the octagon (and the numerous cameras set up throughout the stadium). these tickets had to have cost thousands of dollars. the crowd was going wild after the last fight that had apparently ended with a dislocated knee. you made a mental note to look up the replays later. 

you gasped when the woman who had occupied the spot next to you reclaimed her seat. “oh my god! holy shit!” 

it was one of the more popular female rappers in recent history. your glam team always played her music while getting you ready and you had grown to enjoy a few of her songs. the two of you chatted effortlessly, giggling and posing for pictures for passersby. 

“hold on, let me get one for my instagram story!” you take a quick selfie of the two of you making kissy faces at each other, captioning it with:

abby anderson’s #1 and #2 fan (i am NOT #2)

you tag her and she quickly reposts it, causing your notifs to go wild. not even 15 minutes later, one of the stadium cameras zoomed in on your face. you could see the little name card they put under your image. runway model was in bold beneath your name.

a man with a microphone, whom you recognize as one of the in house reporters, waltzes up to you in the stands. “it’s so nice seeing you here tonight. you look gorgeous as always.”

you force out your best exaggerated fake laugh. “thank you, thank you. i’m so happy to be here.”

“the people have one big question on their mind. who are you rooting for tonight?” he pauses before turning the microphone towards you. you watch as the large screen in the center of the stadium flashed to a screenshot of your post that was barely 20 minutes old. their social media interns are really on top of it tonight. “now, some people may say the answer is just a little obvious.” he finally turns the microphone in your direction. 

“you guys are really putting me on blast tonight, huh?” you giggle. “i’m here to watch anderson absolutely wash her competition. its no secret that i’m a really big fan. and,” you pause, trying to gauge how much you would regret uttering these words. management wanted cute, so you’d give it to them. “abby, if you see this and you’re into girls, my DMs are wide open.” 

the stadium roared in laughter and gasps and you had a strong suspicion that nobody was focused on your outfit anymore. 

meanwhile, abby is completely oblivious to the crowd and ruckus as isaac gives her words of encouragement as best as he could. he wasn’t quite an affectionate presence. 

“you get out there, and you beat that girl until she cannot stand up. you hear me?” 

abby nods. she closes her eyes and starts her deep breathing exercises that she always does right before a match. 

her eyes snap open when she hears her friend, nora, gasp. she’s scrolling on her phone with misplaced fervor. 

“what the fuck? don’t do shit like that!” abby shouts. she becomes mean before all of her matches. she’s normally a bit more graceful with her language and delivery. not by much, but the difference is noticeable. 

after a few moments of silence, abby speaks again with a slightly raised voice. “what the fuck is your deal?”

nora was used to abby’s behavior before a fight, given she was always there as ringside moral support. she completely ignored abby’s sour attitude and turned her phone towards the fighter. “this model shouted you out and now you’re trending on twitter. you’ve also gained, like, 10k on instagram in the last couple days.” 

abby was almost completely removed from social media. she didn’t know how to use it and hardly ever opened the app. her management team handled most of her socials, and she didn’t want it any other way. this was the first time she had ever heard your name. 

“wait, wait, you have to see this clip.” 

“nora get out of here if you’re gonna be a distraction!” isaac’s voice is stern and intimidating. she tunes him out and completely ignores his request. 

nora holds her phone in front of abby’s face and immediately her eyes grow wide. 

“abby, if you see this and you’re into girls, my DMs are wide open!” 

her whole face was suddenly hot. you had said it so coolly. the sweet little giggle you had let out. she wanted to watch the video on repeat just to see the way your lips formed each syllable. she had never considered her sexuality. not until right now, in this exact moment, minutes before she was due out in the ring. there was never any need to. her one and only relationship her entire life had been with a man and that had only recently ended.

she had to admit you were pretty. the longer she stared at your perfectly arranged features, maybe she could see herself—

“get that shit outta here, nora. i’m serious!” isaac’s voice cut through abby’s thoughts. nora rushed out of the room and up into the stands, taking her place in abby’s corner. 

the old man’s voice was eventually drowned out by the sound of her own rapidly beating heart. a runway model was interested in her? 

you were insanely out of her league. maybe if she had been more famous, more talented, she would feel like she had a shot. 

what was she even thinking? 

“focus!” isaac yelled a few inches away from her face. 

you were antsy in your seat waiting for the match to start. you had put your phone on do not disturb after your friends started rapidly sending messages in the groupchat. 

cass: girl wtf why would you say that on LIVE television 

lynzee: gay asf in 4k

all of a sudden, the music in the stadium cut and the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. 

“and now, we have one of the most anticipated fights of the night! in one corner, we have ellie ‘stealth killer’ williams!” cheers erupted in the stadium as ellie strutted out towards the octagon, flanked by her trainer, joel miller. her head was held high, and as usual, she looked smug. she was the popular pick as tonight’s winner. 

“in the other corner, tonight’s underdog, abby anderson, the wolf of salt lake!” when abby came out, her furrowed brow and intense facial features immediately had you blushing. her skin tight black shorts that hugged her massive thighs and tiny sports bra left little to the imagination. all you could think about was placing sweet kisses along her biceps and chest, going lower and lower until her legs were slung over your shoulders for you to bury your face in her cunt and eat her out like it was the last meal you would ever be served. 

all abby could think about were all the eyes on her. a few boos came from the crowd, as was expected. sometimes, ufc fans got a little too enthusiastic. the ellie diehards were definitely in the stadium tonight. 

“ladies and gentlemen all across the world, it’s time!” the crowd chanted along with the announcer.

more importantly, you were in the stadium tonight. her self proclaimed number one fan. you had single handedly made her popularity skyrocket in only a few days’ time. she couldn’t disappoint you. even worse, it would be embarrassing for her to get her ass kicked publicly with you several feet away, catching every single second of it. so much was riding on this moment. 

isaac had stationed himself in her corner of the octagon and she could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. before she knew it, she was in the center of the ring, touching gloves with her opponent. 

as soon as the round started, every single thought in her mind melted away. there was only one objective: beat the shit out of ellie williams. 

the first round was painful to watch. ellie was known for her quick jabs and light feet, the exact opposite of abby. she was big, burly, and punched hard. ellie dodged her punches beautifully, landing a few kicks and jabs of her own. a few moments before the round ended, ellie connected a nasty kick with abby’s nose. her blood smeared down her face and dripped onto the mat. luckily, she had one minute to recoup back in her corner with isaac. 

“all you have to do is outlast her. chill out, reserve that energy. she’ll run out of stamina eventually.” isaac’s voice was a lot calmer in comparison to his sharp tone earlier. 

nora busied herself with tenderly wiping blood off of abby’s face and whispering in her ear “you’re good. it doesn’t look broken.”

you had to admit, that was a little hot. 

god, you wished that was you. 

their sixty seconds ended and it was back into the ring. the second round wasn’t much better. abby had avoided a good amount of ellie’s strikes, but the ones she ate were downright ugly. if the fight were to go to judge’s decision right now, abby would certainly lose. she was going to do everything in her power to prevent that. all of abby’s wins came from knockouts or submissions. technicality was never her strong suit. her adrenaline was at an all time high. she needed to get back in there. one solid punch. that was all she needed. 

you were on the edge of your seat, much like everyone else in the stadium. 

judging by her movements, it was clear ellie was exhausted. her punches had less momentum. there was an obvious change in strategy: dodge everything and wait for the final round to end. abby noticed this and planned to capitalize off of it. there was a careful pattern to ellie’s movements. she just needed to exploit it.

the entire arena was captured in anxious silence. abby’s right fist had made an audible connection with ellie’s cheek. she fell straight back onto the mat and abby ran to straddle her and keep punching. while barbaric, it was necessary to establish a knockout. doesn’t mean abby didn’t get off on the feeling. watching your opponent drop to the ground like that was a high that was irreplaceable by any drug in the world. that feeling enveloped her tenfold knowing that this time, it was ellie williams. 

it only took a few seconds for the referees to intervene, declaring a clean, uncontested knockout. they had to peel abby off of ellie. both of their respective teams flooded the octagon, along with several interviewers. 

abby still hadn’t come to. her adrenaline had yet to bottom out. she looked like a deer in headlights as a half dozen people shoved cameras in her face. she couldn’t hear anything. not her team’s congratulations. not the crowd’s uproar.

“you came into this octagon as the sort-of new kid on the block. this is your first time as a headline fighter. is there anything you want to say to everyone after that absolutely beautiful knockout?”

this was the only question abby had thoroughly processed. 

“uh…” her voice was unsteady. “i wanna thank my dad, who always encouraged me to never stop fighting. thank you to my fans out there, whether you’ve been here from the very start of my career or you hopped on board an hour ago.”

was she talking about you and your post? the subtle mention nearly had you kicking your feet in the stands. 

“and thank you to ellie for being such a cunt, because i don’t think i would’ve been able to hit as hard without a burning desire to put your ass back on that mat.” 

the octagon erupts into shouting and swearing as a now conscious ellie started yelling inaudible insults. her trainer joined in on the ruckus creating quite the spectacle. abby geared up to scream back, but is quickly course corrected by isaac and nora leading her out of the ring and off camera. 

you cheered all the way up until the moment abby fluttered out of the public eye, shouting until your throat felt sore. now, it was time for you to make your great escape. no use in sticking around to see a bunch of men get maimed in the title fight. especially, when you can instead hang out with your best friends.

you: ok im leaving the venue. meet @ the club around 12?

lynzee: yesssss

the car was already waiting outside when you rushed away trying to avoid any cameras. “please go as fast as possible.” you instructed your driver.

abby was immediately ushered to the makeshift infirmary in the basement of the venue. three different people were inspecting her for any serious injuries while nora prepped ice packs for her. 

the adrenaline had her thoughts all over the place. above all the commotion, your words played on loop in her head. this was supposed to be a big moment for her. why were you overshadowing that? 

“can everyone get the fuck out? i just need 15 minutes of silence.” 

the medical team seemed hesitant, sharing concerned looks with both isaac and nora. 

“you heard her! file out!” isaac’s shout sent all of them running. 

quiet took over the room while abby tried to clear her mind. god, why couldn’t she rid her thoughts of you? 

she turned to nora “show me how to repost something on my instagram story.” 

nora’s eyebrows raised. “what do you mean?” 

“what do you mean ‘what do i mean’?” abby couldn’t even hold eye contact with her friend. shame and embarrassment had completely taken over. “that model you were talking about…i wanna respond, or whatever.” her attempt at being nonchalant was failing miserably.

“ohhh someone has a crush!” nora teased. “abby you know you can just dm–“

“it’s not like that! she just got me a lot of attention and i wanna thank her.” nora snickered. “can you just do what i’m asking, please? without the commentary.” abby knew regardless of what was said, nora would never let this go. “just tell me or i’ll get someone else to.” this was a lie. she could barely tolerate asking nora. 

“will i be getting paid for my duties as your social media manager?” 

“nora i’m fucking ser–“

“damn, you’d think you’d be in a better mood after this win.” nora pulled out her phone. “alright, what do you wanna say?”

it was nearing 1AM and you were drunker than you intended to be. some pretty brunette with a heavy spanish accent had bought you more than enough drinks at the bar. it wasn’t long until you found yourself in a dark corner of the club, bodies pressed together, tongues down each other’s throat. her hands roamed down your body, eventually resting at the curve of your ass. you couldn’t tell how much time had passed before a group of three girls came to retrieve their friend. she hands you her phone, a gesture you assumed was intended for you to leave her your number. you oblige, even though you doubt you would care enough to text her back in the morning. 

you attempted to sober up just enough to shuffle back to your friends on the dancefloor. every few seconds another person would brush by with an indecipherable “excuse me”, trying not to spill their drink. a few droplets of someone’s cocktails fell onto your bare arms, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. nothing mattered right now. 

lynzee leaned down, her mouth next to your ear, she practically had to shout “we’re going to the bathroom!”

she attempted to hold you up as the group of you shoved your way through the crowd. you took a long look at yourself in the mirror. a mix of lipstick belonging to you and the girl who’s name you don’t remember is smeared along your chin. 

lynzee snorts incredulously “damn girl, i see you were busy.” 

you couldn’t manage the multitasking of a response and redoing your makeup. all you could do was hum in vague affirmation.

cassidy busied herself with crushing a pill on the bathroom counter and lining it up with her metal amex card. 

“bitch, ew you’re gonna do that on the public bathroom counter?” you managed to drunkenly slur out. 

cassidy rolled her eyes and smacked her teeth. “i’ve done worse.” 

“okay well speed it up. we look hot, we need a pic.” lynzee spoke over the sounds of your friend’s deep inhales. 

after a few camera flicks and a slew of different poses, the three of you prepared to brave the dancefloor once again.

“lynz, send them in the groupchat. do it now because you always fucking forget.” it was getting harder by the second for you to string along coherent sentences.

you took a brief look down at your phone screen and a single notification caught your eye.

a.ander.son reposted your story

you stopped dead in your tracks. “hold the fuck on.” your fingers made quick work of unlocking your phone and opening instagram. abby never posted on her story. she barely even made regular posts. text was overlaid on your original picture.

thanks for all your support <3

your drunken delusions were building. of all people she shouted you out. she had to have seen the clip of you attempting to flirt. it was meant to be. she liked you back!

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” cassidy asked between sniffles as she rubbed at her nose. 

all you could do was turn your phone screen towards your friends. your excitement was more than evident.

lynzee rolled her eyes. “are you, like, 13? dude, if you wanna fuck her just dm her right now.” 

“it’s not like that! i mean, i do wanna fuck her, but i don’t wanna just fuck her.” against your better judgement, you go to her profile and click on the messages tab. “what do i even say?” you whine. it took you a few tries to make the message vaguely understandable, but after a while you decided to leave well enough alone. 

confrats on the win!! you look super hot even with blood on yoir face :P

after a match, win or lose, sleep always evaded abby. she had been devotedly researching you for the last couple hours. she had read and watched a multitude of interviews where you talk about your life and your accidental break as a model. she studied your runway walk and every magazine spread you had ever been in like there would be a test the very next day. 

of course she was attracted to you. who wouldn’t be? you’re a model. well, she wasn’t attracted to you. not in that way.

okay sure, she’d thought about kissing girls in the past, but it was always a fleeting concept . there was a time where she thought she had a crush on nora, but that’s just the way girl friends are, right? there was nothing there. they had just always been really close. 

but, she hardly knew you and for the last several hours all she could think about was kissing you. maybe she was just trying to move on from owen? trying to shift her perspective?

it's around 3AM when abby finally built up the courage to open the message. her heart raced as she read the line of text over and over. she tapped over to your instagram story (something nora had taught her to do earlier that day) and she sees a short video of you holding a very expensive bottle of liquor, pouring the liquid directly into the mouth of someone she could only assume to be a friend of yours. 

you’re holding the girl by the chin, looking down into her eyes. the sight makes abby’s throat constrict. she could only imagine being in her position. 

you holding her chin, head tilted back, mouth open, a string of spit exchanging between your mouths. the mere thought had her rubbing her thighs together, desperate for some reprieve. 

what the fuck was she thinking? 

that post was made hours ago, thus explaining the drunk text. there was no way you were anything near sober now. even if you weren’t, abby wasn’t quite sure how to respond to your text. instead, she locked her phone and decided to call nora bright and early the next morning.

well, abby didn’t know that read receipts were a thing. you and your friends were being driven to your hotel and you had been drunkenly babbling for the last half an hour.

“god, what if she’s not even gay?” tears began to well in your eyes as drunken theatrics took over. “i fucking embarrassed myself! i bet she’s laughing about it in a groupchat with her friends! that’s what we always do!” 

lynzee, being the most sober of your trio, pulls out a crumpled napkin from her purse and dabs the tears that are running down your face.

“you two don’t understand how embarrassing it is to flirt with a straight girl! it is so fucking hard to be gay around here!” you attempted to take deep breaths through choked sobs. “what if this is a sign that i should get back with my ex?”

“NO!” lynzee and cassidy practically scream in unison. 

cassidy deeply sighs with her hands over her eyes. “you’re hot. you can pull anyone you want. now, please calm down before you fuck up my high.” 

and for the rest of the ride you quietly sobbed while lynzee rubbed your back and attempted to console you with the occasional “it’ll be fine.”

you don’t remember getting up to your hotel room, so when lynzee shakes you awake you take a few extra seconds to take in your surroundings. 

“it’s 5PM. get up sleeping beauty.” she places a cold bottle of water and two painkillers into your hands. oh, how grateful you were for her right now.

the two of you order room service while lynzee recounts the events of the night to you. 

“there’s actually a video of you cry–“

“don’t fucking show me that! in fact, delete it right fucking now!” 

this reminds you of your drunk text to abby. you rush to pick up your phone from the nightstand, ignoring the low battery pop up. your heart is racing.

“can you see if she dmed me back? i can’t do it myself.” 

lynzee scoffs. “god you’re so dramatic.” you hear her tap the screen of your phone a few times. “oooo–“

“let me see!” you climb off the bed and rush to snatch your phone back.

there was, in fact, a text from abby that was sent around 9AM.

abby’s hands were shaking when she sent the message. nora had groggily listened to a condensed version of abby’s sexuality crisis for the better part of an hour. nora convinced her to just give the situation a try if she felt so strongly about you.

“imagine fumbling a model all because you’re terrified of being gay.” nora was trying her hardest to keep abby in line. deep down, she wanted this for abby so she’d shut the fuck up about owen. “if you think you like her, just go on a date. if it doesn’t work, no harm, no foul.”

that finally convinced abby to just send the message. when she read it back to nora, she could only groan.

a.ander.son: i’ll be in vegas for the next week if you wanted to get dinner?

a.ander.son: or we can do something else?

a.ander.son: this is my first time here so i’m not really sure what people do around here haha

“it sounds like you’re inviting her to a business meeting, not a date. that wasn’t flirty at all!” 

“should i send another–“

“no!” nora quickly exclaimed. “then you’ll look desperate. just wait for her to respond.”

she did just that for a few hours. it was nothing short of agonizing. finally, exhaustion put her out of her misery and she managed to get a few hours of sleep.

sadly, this was your last night in vegas. you had a flight to new york tomorrow afternoon to prepare for your runway appearance for fashion week. there was no way you would have your shit together in the next hour or two to make it to dinner either. 

you: srry i just woke up!! 

you: me & my friends are going to a penthouse party tn if you wanna pull up? we’ll prob be there around 11ish? you can be my +1 :)

the sound of her phone buzzing tore abby from her sleep. she wasted no time unlocking her phone and reading your message. she hadn’t ever been to a real party before. in the one semester of college she had completed she was invited to a frat party alongside owen and lasted about twenty minutes before she became overwhelmed and left. he hadn’t even bothered to walk her home. 

she could tell this party would be drastically different. this wasn’t a bunch of college kids. it was likely a bunch of b-list celebrities and nepo babies. abby wasn’t anywhere near notable enough to hang with that crowd. 

but, she needed to see you. who knows the next time you’ll be free? much less in the same city as her. 

a.ander.son: ok sounds fun. i can meet you there?

you squealed in excitement and flopped back against your bed. ultimately, she would be your fourth plus one which would be pushing it if the guy hosting the party, some wannabe actor who’s dad is a prominent movie producer, hadn’t been begging for attention in your dms for the last several months. apparently, he didn’t believe you were gay. hopefully this would put his advances to rest. 

abby called nora five times before she answered. 

“what is it now? i was in the shower.” 

“i have–“ abby glanced at her phone screen to check the time. “less than six hours to figure out an outfit for a penthouse party.” her thoughts were racing while she thought about every single detail of the night. “i didn’t pack anything fancy. god, and she’s gonna be dressed in designer–” 

“take a deep breath, anderson.” there’s some shuffling on the line and abby hears the shower water turn off. “we’ve got a couple hours before shops close. we’ll find you something.”

it took a few hours and several shops to curate a suitable outfit for abby. a black linen button down that she purposely left unbuttoned halfway down to expose the perfect amount of her chest. a pair of tight fitting khaki slacks gripped her ass in the best way possible. the last, and arguably most important, piece of the outfit was a thin gold chain with a small wolf pendant attached to it that sat along the exposed skin of her chest. nora took the time to gel down and neatly plait abby’s hair. everything about her appearance had to be perfect. 

it was nearing the meet up time and abby was running on max three hours of sleep. nora had abandoned her in favor of getting some sleep back in her hotel room. the feelings of anxiety and sleep deprivation were blending into this miserable haze of unending thought. she checked her phone every time it buzzed. 

you: what’s your addy? i’ll send a car for you

you: gotta ride separately with my besties

you: just tell the dude at the door that youre with me

it didn’t take long for the driver to arrive after she sent the text with her address. the man didn’t bother turning back to look at her before speeding off. the whole ride, abby feverishly texted nora with updates. 

nora: just take a couple shots it’ll make everything better!! have fun babe <3

when the car stopped abby was met with the sight of a twenty story building towering over her. the lobby area was well furnished with couches, a crystal chandelier light fixture, gold framed paintings, and roman-esque pillars. there was a lone man waiting downstairs. he was tall, bald, buff, and staring at her like she was the scum of the earth. if she hadn’t been trained as a professional fighter she would imagine his gaze would spark some semblance of fear.

“uh, i’m here for the party, i guess?”

he didn’t speak a word until she uttered your name and showed off the text thread between both of you. 

“follow me.” the hulking man led her towards a glass elevator and her heart immediately dropped. the elevator was spacious, but all at once she felt claustrophobic. she had to make a concerted effort to steady her breathing. every second felt like an hour as the elevator ascended past all twenty floors. she busied her mind and hands texting you

a.ander.son: i think i’m here? i’m going up in the elevator

when the elevator finally opened she was met with an unfathomable amount of people. this had to be a fire code violation. the music was too loud and there were at least a hundred voices trying to shout over it. the claustrophobic feeling came back and was ten times worse.

there were two separate stories to the penthouse. the second story was a closed in space that overlooked the bottom floor. people had crowded along the stairs and were packed in on the awning. the modified kitchen and lounge area was swimming with people, all seemingly crowded around the bar towards the kitchen area. towards the back of the first floor were huge glass panels from floor to ceiling. she could see the terrace outfitted with a huge pool and a full service bar. 

people were shoving past her with nary an “i’m sorry” or “excuse me”. 

where the hell were you? 

before she could gather her bearings she was approached by a clearly drunk man. 

“holy shit!” he slurred. “you’re that hot ufc girl! ”

all abby could spare was a half-hearted awkward laugh. “yeah, i guess.”

“bro, can i get a pic? my friends won’t believe you’re here!” before she could reply he was already moving in, placing an arm around his shoulder. “dude, you beat the shit out of williams yesterday.” he flagged down his friend who already had a camera ready. she was wholly unprepared when the flash went off. 

she hoped that wouldn’t be posted anywhere. 

“oh my god, will you move?” somehow abby could hear your voice over the deafening music and chatter of the party guests. 

you scoffed, clearly disgusted by the man in your vicinity. “get away from her, travis. she’s not gonna fuck you.” you gave the man a light shove, sending him stumbling backwards. “now fuck off!”

everything around her melted away. abby was completely in awe. your skin was glowing, hair perfectly groomed, dressed to the nines. she felt horribly underdressed next to you. 

your squeal brought her back to reality. “holy shit, you actually came!” overcome with excitement, you threw your arms around her. the smell of your perfume made abby shudder. 

she wanted you so bad.

“i’m such a big fan!” you went on. “i’ve been following your career for, like, forever.” finally you released her from the hug and immediately abby missed your warmth. “wait, is that weird to say?”

“no, no, i dont think its weird.” abby reassures you. it’s not like she hadn’t spent several hours last night researching your entire life. “it's nice to finally meet you. you look really pretty.” she felt like a fucking dork. this was like an eighth grade dance. except everyone was really famous, in their 20s, and people were snorting mysterious powders off the bartop.

“you look overwhelmed. is this your first big party?” 

how was she failing so miserably at fitting in? 

“is it that obvious?” 

you intertwined your fingers and began to drag her through the crowd. “don’t worry, a drink will fix everything.” you plowed through the crowd until the two of you were on the terrace. “i can also probably find you any drug of your choice…pretty much anything.”

“no, no. i’m good. i get drug tested regularly before my matches.”

you nod in acknowledgement. how had you not thought of that?

“honestly, i don’t even really drink. my trainer is pretty strict.” 

you gasp in surprise. “oh shit, you should’ve said something! i wouldn’t have invited you to a function with a bunch of sloppy drunk wannabes and b-listers.”

“no, its okay! i’m glad i got to tag along!” abby would’ve met you anywhere you requested. she would follow you to hell if it meant she could talk to you for a little longer. “i’ll have a couple drinks with you.”

abby smiles when your face brightens. “yay!” 

you shoved your way through the crowd without a care in the world. a few people yelled a greeting at you, but you didn’t spare a passing glance. whilst being dragged, abby noticed a few of them eyeing her up and down. some of the looks had a predatory vibe, like they were waiting for a moment to devour her whole. the rest of them gazed at her in confusion, perhaps trying to place where they would know her from. all of it made her want to crawl into a ball and die on the spot. this was nothing like being in the octagon. it didn’t even compare. 

abby doesn’t notice when you stop moving and runs into you, making you practically topple over. before you can fall too far, she gently pulls you by the hand, her other arm bracing you to prevent any impact. 

abby parts her lips to apologize, but you speak before she can. “that was smooth, anderson. and kinda hot.”

suddenly, her words failed her. 

you lean across the bar and hail over the poor bartender who is clearly up to his neck in drink orders.

you look over your shoulder at abby. “what do you want?”

she didn’t even know the names of cocktails. even if she did, everything had left her brain as soon as you took her hand. “whatever you’re having, i guess?”

“two shots of tequila. salt and lime, pretty please. and none of that bottom shelf shit!”

abby found your mannerisms nothing short of adorable. judging you solely from your interviews, she would’ve never guessed you were this brash in person. you were much softer when faced with the public. it was almost jarring. 

“okay, this is good shit so it shouldn’t be too bad going down. ” you finally released abby’s hand to deliver her shot to her, a salt shaker in your other hand. “lick the back of your hand.”  

abby did as she was instructed and you shook a small line of salt onto the wet trail of spit. the entire time you held eye contact with her. the whole ordeal felt oddly intimate.

“salt first, shot, then lime, ‘kay?” 

she followed your lead and downed the shot. she tried so hard to steady her resolve, but her face gave her away. with the lime in her mouth she watched as your hand raised to thumb off small remnants of salt at the corner of  her mouth. the feeling of your freshly done nails grazing her skin made goosebumps raise. 

immediately after, your phone vibrates in your purse and you peek at the message. 

lynzee: bitch you will never guess whos here…

the next message is a photo that you tap to open. you can’t keep yourself from groaning aloud. it was your ex that you had been crying about the night prior. the last thing you wanted tonight was to see her. she tormented you with the whole on again off again thing for years. anytime you saw each other in a setting like this, she somehow always made it in your pants at the end of the night. you were trying so hard to shut the door on that chapter of life.

“you alright?” abby quickly noticed the change in your demeanor. 

you were doing everything in your power not to scream. “yeah. one of my evil exes is here.” 

“one of? you have a lot of evil exes then?” abby hoped that didn’t come off as rude. she was trying to lighten the mood. 

it does get a laugh out of you. “more than you’d think. we actually just broke up for good.” you let your words sit in the air for a few seconds before you felt the need to clarify. “well, not just, it was like six months ago.” 

you huffed. “it’s hard being in the industry. everyone’s tirelessly trying to dig dirt up on you. friends, family, paparazzi. everyone’s telling a different story about my life and my relationships and she just feeds into it.” here you were talking about your ex with a girl you were trying so hard to fuck. “god, she’s such a fucking bitch.”

“yeah, me and my ex boyfriend broke things off a couple months ago. he told me i was putting my career before him, but i found out he was fucking some other girl while we were dating. i’m pretty sure they’re together now.” abby shrugged. “it didn’t really hurt. i guess i hadn’t had feelings for him for a while.” she was starting to regret getting this personal. 

“so…” finally, you could address the elephant in the room. “ex boyfriend…we never really broached the subject.” the drinks in your system were making this conversation bearable. “i’m sure you saw that really embarrassing situation on tik tok.”

abby had no clue what you were talking about, but she let you go on.

“and the stuff i said right before your match. i didn’t know if this was a date, or if we were just hanging out, or if you even like girls…” you cut yourself off before you could keep rambling on. 

abby was trying so hard not to think about it. she was shit at flirting and hadn’t been on a real date in ages. “if you want it to be a date, then it can be?” she sounded far more unsure of herself than she intended to. how do you tell the girl you’re on a date with that this was her first time being on a date with a girl. even in this moment she was confused about her sexuality.

“can i be really lame for a second?”  you slid the two shot glasses back onto the bar. without waiting for a response you continued speaking. “can i get a picture? i know people have been asking you that all night, but i know my followers will find it funny.” you sighed. “well, its actually mostly for me. kind of cool to meet your idols, ya know?”

idol? abby wasn't sure on whether she should be flattered or embarrassed.

abby was almost thankful you gave her something else trivial to think about. 

but, she was terrified of being photographed next to you. you looked a million times better than she did right now. she didn’t even know how to pose and you were a model. what was meant to be a cute exchange, was turning into a nerve wracking experience. 

while you fiddled with your phone, abby busied herself with brushing a few wispy hairs that had escaped her braid behind her ears. 

“cass!” you hailed over a girl that was the visual definition of ‘lights are on, but no one’s home’. her pupils were wide and she practically skipped over. “jesus christ, cass.” you rolled your eyes. “just take this picture for me.”

you stepped back against the glass balcony railing and waved abby towards you. she took a couple hesitant steps before the dizziness and nausea took over. even from several feet away she could see the busy city street thousands of feet below. all she could think about was the glass shattering and her collapsing over the railing.

“are you scared of heights?” your voice broke abby from her trance.

she couldn’t verbally admit that to you. a girl who beats people into submission for a living is afraid of heights? that’s embarrassing. 

you could tell by the way her face paled that she was terrified. “hey,” you take her hand and pull her close, her chest flush with your back. “just don’t look down, babe.”

abby’s eyes snapped back to cassidy who was lining up the shot. she took at least a dozen photos from different angles and the whole time abby stood like a statue. when she’s finally done, cass practically shoves your phone back in your hands and turns on her heel to prance off once more. 

“have fun…make good choices!” she calls back before disappearing into the crowd. 

“that one of your friends?” abby asked whilst watching the girl skip off.

“yeah, that’s cassidy. she’s not really all there, but we love her anyways. you should meet my friends sometime.”

from there you and abby spent a ridiculous amount of time idly chatting over a couple more drinks and you were all over her. the clarification that this was in fact a date meant you had to turn up the charm. there was no way you were leaving this party without her in tow. 

you were in a horrendous sex drought and all that had to change tonight. 

you never let go of her hand, not even for a second. abby finally gathered the confidence to wrap her free arm around your waist, keeping your chest pressed against her’s. this killed two birds with one stone. you knew your closeness would make its way back to your ex, keeping her at least three yards from you at all times, and you got to be the eye candy of the woman you’d had a schoolgirl crush on for the last year. 

as time went on and the alcohol took over, abby started to get a little more personal with her responses and (thankfully) more charismatic. she told you she ended up pursuing ufc after her father put her in boxing classes when she was younger. there were never any real opponents, just learning form and endurance. even then, her coach told her she had natural talent. with him being a neurologist, he was hesitant to let it escalate to real matches. this was hands down one of the worst professions to get into if you wanted to keep a working brain past age 35. alas, he couldn’t tell his daughter no. especially because he knew she would’ve done it anyway with or without his support. he served as her ring side doctor every match and died shortly before she went pro. 

you knew all of this after being obsessed with her ever since her debut, but hearing the story in person made you want to sob. 

“sorry. i didn't mean to kill the vibe.” 

you shook your head “no, no! it’s okay.”

naturally, you got into your backstory and how you got into modeling. the story was actually almost embarrassing if you thought about it too long. you were really popular on tumblr during your teenage years and accidentally became one of those “aesthetic blog” it girls. a la joanna kuchta and barbie ferreira. you were invited to do a small shoot for a big brand and slowly fought your way to the top. now, you do editorial magazine covers and could walk the runway in your sleep.

despite her research, this was something abby didn’t know. you always told the story slightly differently during interviews. 

before she can get another thought out, your lips were pressed against hers. she shuddered, unsure of what to do with her hands or any part of her body. she could taste the tequila and hint of lime that the two of you had shared together earlier. she wasn’t expecting this to have happened so publicly. there were dozens of people around, at least half of them were likely staring. that wouldn’t ruin this moment for abby. this kiss was all that had been on her mind (and yours quite frankly) from the moment that she saw that clip of you jokingly flirting with her before the match. 

your chest was pressed against her’s and abby slowly moved to wrap her arm around your waist. for a moment you broke the kiss and eyed the crowd to the side of you. “sorry. i saw my ex walking over and didn’t want you to have to sit through that screaming match. but” your facial expression softened, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips. “i also did just want to kiss you, so it was a perfect excuse.” 

“you definitely didn’t need to apologize.” abby was more than happy to serve as an ex deterrent. it was everything she dreamed of and more. 

you take the comment as the go ahead to lean in to kiss her again. you wrap your arms around her neck as she presses her body against yours, the pendant on her necklace pressing into your skin. you needed to be infinitely closer to her. her arm wraps tighten around your waist, abby craving that same closeness. you softly whimpered against her lips before breaking the kiss that lasted long enough for your friends to have taken note and give you a thumbs up from afar. you looked at abby through your lashes and laced your fingers between hers. 

“follow me.” without even giving her a moment to process, you were dragging her behind you and up the stairs through a door.

you shove past some people and hop a couch that was meant to be blocking off the hallway towards the bedrooms. you knew better, though. you round a corner and approach a door, pulling on the knob and feeling no resistance. “dumbass never locks his door.” you slid past the threshold of the room, pulling abby in with you. 

the bedroom was huge, featuring a california king bed, with coats piled atop it, an impossibly large television mounted on the wall, an impossible number of racks of clothing, and a dark wood nightstand next to the bed with an array of pills, both crushed and uncrushed adorning the surface.

“who’s room is this?”

you gave a dismissive wave. “the asshole who's hosting. he’s been trying to get me in his bed for months. kinda ironic, honestly.”

did this mean you were going to–

“can you take my shoes off for me?” you ask as you plop down onto the white duvet covering the bed. like an obedient dog, abby immediately dropped to her knees and began undoing the straps and sliding them off your feet. she also took the time to slide off her shoes and leave them next to yours. 

you lean back against the bed, looking up at her. abby’s heart was beating so fast she worried it would give out altogether. she had never done this before and the lingering fear of disappointing you was weighing down her body. 

“well, dont get shy now.” you whisper. “or are you scared of me?” 

abby bit into her cheek, shaming herself for allowing her face to give her hesitance away. she wanted this so badly, but didn’t know where to start. 

you could tell by the blush on her cheeks and the way she was awkwardly shifting back and forth between both feet that she likely had no clue what she was doing. maybe you were jumping to conclusions. maybe, she was overwhelmed by the idea of fucking a literal model. 

but, you could smell a baby gay from a mile away. 

you beckoned her over. “come here. lay down, let me take care of you first.” once again, abby did exactly as she was told. she was entranced by the soft sounds of your voice. you could tell her to jump off a bridge and she would happily do so. 

abby took your spot, leaned back against the bed, legs hanging off the edge. you pressed tender kisses along her neck and collarbones while you slowly undid the button and zipper on her pants. abby was trying to play it cool, but you certainly knew better. you slid down onto your knees, the carpeted floor sure to leave some marks by the time you were done here. with some help from abby you eased off her pants and her underwear beneath them. 

“i wouldn’t typically skip right to the main event, but…” you held a hand up, showcasing your sharp acrylic nails. abby got the picture. “let me know if you want me to stop, okay?” 

abby nods with a barely audible “okay” before you position her legs over your shoulders. the feeling of the tip of your nose and lips moving along her inner thighs has her barely able to breathe. your teeth graze along her sensitive skin and her body betrays her when she lets out a whimper. 

by the time your tongue makes contact with her clit she’s already wet and aching. the way your tongue circles around the bundle of nerves allows abby’s body to finally release the built up tension, something you can immediately feel. the careful flicks of your tongue makes her a whimpering mess. she knew no one would be able to hear her over the music, but there was still something so weirdly shameful about being this eager. 

you look up at her briefly, your mouth and chin shiny after burying your face in her cunt. “aw, you look so cute like this.” 

abby could’ve came right there. 

after the comment, you went right back to work. you’re being agonizingly slow on purpose. all for her validation. all so she can tell you through breaths of desperation that she needs more. 

“fuck that’s—” she hisses at the feeling of your lips parting to suck on her clit. “you’re…really good.” she’s trying so hard to keep her thoughts straight while she’s being undone by you. 

you pick up the pace a bit and abby instinctively bucks her hips against your tongue. she whines your name and you’re filled with a renewed sense of desire. slowly abby grows louder and has to bite into the heel of her palm just to smother the noise. you’re committed to going as long as she needed you to. even longer if she’d let you. 

but, abby couldn’t last much longer. the feeling in her lower abdomen had her practically begging for release. “i think i’m gonna cum.” she hoped you would hear her strained whisper. she absolutely didn’t have it in her to repeat herself. 

she assumes you get the message when the flicks of your tongue get faster and your grip on her thighs becomes tighter. 

all at once, her orgasm hits her. again, the palm of her hand is flush against her mouth while she rides the intense wave of pleasure. you don’t stop until you’re sure she’s all the way through it. 

she had never felt an orgasm like this before. in fact, she could count on one hand how many times owen had actually made her cum. he was never this attentive or gentle. or maybe you were just ungodly skilled? either way, she was more than happy to leave that wet spot on the duvet of whoever’s room this was.  

when you stood and crawled on top of her, abby was still trying to regain feeling in her lower half. without words, your lips capture her’s and once again she starts to feel a heat pool between her legs. the taste of her on your lips is almost intoxicating. she needed to stay like this forever. 

you let out a sing-songy “my turn.” 

abby felt like she learned enough from you to finally be able to take on this task. it couldn’t be that hard. right?

the doorknob jiggles. both of you swiftly turn to the bedroom door. 

you roll your eyes. “just ignore it. probably some girl who had too much to drink and needs a place to throw up.” 

then, there was a series of loud knocks. you sigh in defeat. the vibe was officially killed.

you both rush to put your clothes back on and look vaguely presentable before you walked back out into the sea of people. when you opened the door there’s a man you only vaguely recognize. he looks the two of you over and it seems to click that he was definitely interrupting something. 

“do you know where luke is?” he could barely stand and it was apparent that the question required all three of his brain cells to be hard at work. 

you scoff. “how the fuck should i know?” without another word you’re hopping back over the couch barrier to make it to the main area of the penthouse. you walk hand in hand with abby, attempting to make your way back to the terrace. 

over the music, you hear someone scream your name. you come face to face with charlotte and she waves you over. 

“we need to get cassidy in the car back to the hotel, like, now. she’s throwing up over the railing of the terrace. can you grab her some water?” there was an urgent tone in her voice so you knew it was time to say your goodbyes. 

“well. duty calls.” you breathed out a deep sigh. the universe seemingly didn’t want to see you orgasm tonight. 

“i have to get home anyways. i haven’t exactly slept since the match.” 

you kiss her one last time. “let me give you my number!” she hands you her phone and lets you type in those ten digits she had completely forgotten to ask for. “text me whenever you're not busy training or whatever. i’ll fly out to you, wherever you are.”

when you handed the phone back and waved goodbye, she looked down at the contact and smiled at the little pink heart you had put next to your name.

the only reason this got posted was bc i realized it would never feel "finished" so i guess this is just an introduction to any nonsense i want to write about them later

kisses to everyone who actually slogged through this <3

[layalisthings]

𝝑𝑒 thinking about abby's big hands the size, the weight, the way they wrap around your waist like nothing. the way she talks you through it every time she f cks you open with those thick, slow fingers—like she’s got all the time in the world to ruin you just right.

You’ve always had a thing for her hands.

Not just because they’re big—though they are. Broad palms, long fingers, rough from lifting and fighting and building muscle that never seems to quit. But it’s the way they move, the way they settle around you like they belong there. It’s the quiet care underneath all that strength.

She’s lounging on the couch, damp hair pushed back, tank top clinging to her from the workout she just powered through. One arm rests over your shoulders, the other draped loosely across her stomach. You reach for her hand without thinking, let your fingers glide across hers.

“You ever get tired of staring?” she asks, a smile tugging at her mouth.

You shake your head. “Not when it’s you.”

She lets you compare hands again, the way you always do—your palm against hers, fingers stretched out. Hers easily swallows yours. You press them closer together, tracing along each of her fingers like you’re learning them all over again.

“Still can’t get over how big they are,” you say, voice quieter now.

Abby tilts her head, watching you, something heavier creeping into her gaze. “Yeah? Thought you liked that.”

You don’t answer—not with words. You slide her hand down to rest on your thigh, your breath catching as her touch lingers. It doesn’t take much more than that before she’s moving—her hand slipping beneath the hem of your shorts like she’s been waiting for permission.

“I know what you need,” she murmurs, lips brushing the corner of your jaw.

You tilt your hips toward her, eyes fluttering shut as her fingers finally push past your waistband. There’s nothing rushed about it—just steady pressure and the familiar drag of her fingertips, like she knows exactly where and how to touch.

“You always feel so damn good,” she mutters, her voice low, almost reverent. Her fingers slip inside, slow and unhurried, and your breath stutters at the stretch.

You bury your face in her neck as she works you open, her free hand gripping your hip to keep you steady. “There you go,” she breathes, soft but sure. “Nice and easy.”

The way she fills you—it’s addictive. Like she was made for this. Like you were made for this.

You moan softly, your body curling in toward her, and she just keeps talking you through it, calm and steady. “That’s it. Just breathe. You’re doing so good.”

And maybe it’s the way her voice settles in your chest or the way her fingers curl just right inside you—but in that moment, there’s nothing else. Just her hands, her strength, her warmth—and the way she holds all of you, without ever needing to say the words.

[layalisthings]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 southern/cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife reader *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 none *ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 hey !! this is just a little drabble i wrote of southern!vi, i'm living for this concept, it's so cute !!

♡︎ 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ♡︎

The boys were all gathered ‘round the corral, elbows slung over the fence, taking a breather after a long, sweaty morning out in the fields. Dust clung to their boots, and the sun beat down with a lazy kind of persistence.

Vi leaned casually against the rail, one arm draped over the top, a piece of straw tucked between her teeth. Her grin was wide and uncontainable — the kind that stretched all the way to her eyes.

And you?

You were up on that horse.

A little unsteady, sure — the saddle creaked beneath you, your knees trembling ever so slightly — but you were up there. Your sundress was tied in knots at the sides to keep it out of the way, sunhat tilted and barely hanging on, wind tugging at your hair. But none of that mattered. Because on your face was the proudest damn smile Vi had ever seen.

“She’s doin’ it,” one of the guys chuckled, squinting into the sun, hand lifted to shade his eyes.

Vi didn’t so much as blink. “Damn right she is.”

With a breath and a little grit, you nudged the horse into a slow, careful walk. You gripped the reins like your life depended on it, your back straight as a board — maybe too straight — but you glowed. You were beaming. Radiant. Like sunlight had found a new favorite place to shine.

When you circled back around, you puffed your chest with the kind of pride that made Vi’s heart skip. “Did y’all see that?”

One of the guys tipped his hat, a playful grin on his face. “Look at you, ridin’ like a pro.”

Vi was already making her way to the gate before you even stopped, arms outstretched to steady you. “Look at her, ridin’ like she owns the whole damn ranch.”

“I do now,” you teased, reaching for her hand as she helped you down.

“Think I’m a real cowgirl yet?”

Vi laughed, low and full of affection, and caught you around the waist, lifting you off the saddle like you didn’t weigh a thing. “You ride that horse, run my house, feed my boys — darlin’, you might just outrank me.”

You laughed too, breathless and warm, leaning into her chest like it was the safest place on earth. “I wanna do it again.”

“Oh, you will,” she promised, brushing a kiss against your temple. “But not ‘til you get some water in you. And maybe a medal.”

You turned toward the boys, arms thrown wide, voice ringing out clear and proud. “Y’all hear that? I’m a medal-worthy cowgirl!”

They hollered and whooped like you’d just roped a wild bull.

And Vi? She just stood there, watching you shine, her chest full to bursting.

Her girl. Her joy. Her heart on horseback.

[layalisthings]

— "𝑃𝑈𝐿𝐿 𝐼𝑇 𝑇𐒆 𝑇𝛨𝛦 𝘚𝐼𝐷𝛦 𝛢𝛮𝐷 𝐺𝛦𝑇 𝛢𝐿𝐿 𝑈𝑃 𝐼𝛮 𝐼𝑇."

𝑃𝛢𝐼𝑅𝐼𝛮𝐺: gymrat!abby x reader

𝘚𝑌𝛮𐒆𝑃𝘚𝐼𝘚: gymrat!abby headcannons.

𝐶𝑊!: smut . oral sex . shower sex . semi-public setting . switch!abby . fingering

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who, the first time you spot her, it’s through the fogged-up mirror—mist curling in the corners, the harsh fluorescent lights buzzing above. She’s locked into the squat rack, her ragged black tank cutting at the sleeves, blonde braid swaying with every move. You’re in the middle of your set, but something in your rhythm slips. You try to recover, act like it’s nothing—but your heart's pounding. She doesn’t see you then. Not yet. But you notice everything about her.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who pushes through the last rep with a quiet grunt, lost in the grind, like nothing else matters. Who lets the bar fall to the ground with ease, wiping sweat off her jaw with her forearm, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. Who stretches between sets, back muscles flexing like they were sculpted from stone.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who seems out of reach until one day, you catch her watching you—just a fleeting glance, a brow raised, lips curling like she’s trying to keep the smile hidden. You almost trip on the stairmaster. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. The next week, you’re early. She walks in right after you—no headphones, just a soft, almost quiet “Hey” as she passes by your machine, her voice still warm from the workout. Your stomach does the thing.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who starts picking the machine next to yours more often than not. She leans in during a break, eyes flicking toward your arms. “Tuck your elbow in more—yeah, just like that. You’ll feel it way deeper.” You do. But the real shock is the way her hand brushes yours, just a second too long. She doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t need to. Just backs off like it never happened, leaving you blinking, mind spinning.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who you catch staring at you now—not through the mirror, but head-on. And when your eyes meet? She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. Just holds it, like she’s daring you. Like she’s challenging you. It’s subtle. A slow burn, a growing tension. She never asks for your number. Never follows you out the door. 

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby where one night, the gym’s nearly empty, and you’re both stretching in the back corner. The lighting’s softer here. The silence, heavy. “You here every Monday?” she asks, leaning back on her palms, sweat still clinging to her collarbones, eyes never leaving you. You nod, not to sound eager.“Pretty much.” She gives you that crooked smile—half shy, half smug. “Cool.”

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who has you questioning your own self-control as she disappears into the locker room. You wait for a moment, the sound of the gym buzzing around you, and then—without thinking—you grab your things, heading in the same direction. The door closes behind you with a soft click, and the silence that fills the space is thick. She’s there, leaning against the wall, her eyes locking with yours as if she knew you’d come. 

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who, when you don’t say anything immediately, walks up and presses herself against you—just enough to make you feel the heat of her body, the firmness of her muscles, the soft pulse of her heartbeat. She tilts her head slightly, her breath warm against your skin, her lips barely brushing the edge of your jaw. “You’re not shy, are you?” she teases, voice low, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who doesn’t wait for a response. Doesn’t need one. Her hands slide down to your hips like they’ve always belonged there, tugging you in until your chest meets hers. Her eyes burn into yours—sharp, locked-on, daring you to pull away. But you don’t. Can’t. And when she kisses you, it’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s demanding—like she’s taking what she’s already claimed.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who kisses with desperation, tongue teasing the seam of your lips until you cave with a breathy moan, your body melting into hers. Her hands are everywhere—gripping, roaming, mapping you out like you’re something she’s studied for weeks. She breaks the kiss just to drag her mouth along your jaw, her teeth catching your neck, and when she hears that sharp gasp? She smiles against your skin like she planned it.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who fists the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head without pause, her gaze sweeping across your bare skin with something close to reverence. “Fuking look at you,” she mutters, voice low, like a growl born deep in her chest. Her palms find your chest, warm and rough, thumbs circling your nipples until they tighten under her touch.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who dips her head, mouth closing around one nipple, tongue swirling, sucking just enough to make your knees weak. You gasp, hands tangling in her braid, holding her close, steadying yourself. But she doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even pause. Her mouth and hands just continue to move in sync, worshipping you piece by piece. She eventually  pulls back, breath uneven, eyes locked onto yours, her gaze hungry, as she tugs her shirt over her head—broad shoulders, carved arms, muscles flexing with every move. She presses against you again, skin to skin, her body full of heat, and this time, her kiss is even slower. Hungrier.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby whose fingers work fast, unbuttoning your pants with a confidence that makes your breath catch. She pushes them down, and you step out without thinking, now standing in nothing but your underwear—her gaze darkening, chest rising with every breath. She hooks two fingers along the waistband, yanks you close. You can feel her now. The tension. The want. She groans, low and guttural, like she’s barely holding back.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who lifts you like it’s nothing, carrying you across the locker room, laying you down on the first flat surface she can find. She kneels between your legs, hands running up your thighs, firm and possessive. “You alright?” she rasps, voice softer now. You nod, dazed. “ngh yeah… fuck, ah!”

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who hooks her fingers into your underwear and pulls them down slow, like she wants to savor it—wants you to feel every second. She tosses them aside like she doesn’t plan on letting you wear them again. Her hands push your thighs open, her tongue dragging up the inside of one, hot and slow. You shudder. “Look at me,” she says. And you do—just in time to see her smirk before she finally dives in.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who eats like she lifts—focused, intense, relentless. Her tongue finds your clit, circles, sucks, licks like it’s the only thing that matters. You cry out, hips twitching, but her arm wraps around your thigh, keeping you steady. Then her fingers join the rhythm—slipping inside, curling just right—and your world starts to blur.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who lifts her head just enough, her mouth glistening. “That’s it, baby… fuck, you take it so well. It’s okay—cum for me.” she growls, and it isn’t a request. It’s a command. You cum, your body convulsing as you scream her name, your whole body arching off the bench, legs trembling, your pussy aching with intensity. The sound of your cries becomes louder, mingling with the wet sounds of Abby’s tongue still flicking along your oversensitive bud.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who slows her pace, watching you with something close to awe as she crawls up your body, mouth brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. She presses her forehead against yours, the heat between your bodies making it hard to think—until the front door creaks open. Someone is coming in.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby whose eyes widen, hands tightening on your waist as you both freeze, breath caught in your throats. You whisper, “Shower. Now.” And before she can argue, you're dragging her toward the showers—her half-buttoned jeans hanging off her hips, shirt and sports bra left behind. She follows without protest, chest rising and falling like she just finished her last set at the gym, stumbling into the steam-filled stall. The water turns hot too fast, clouding the glass, and you pin her against the tile—hair soaked, droplets sliding down broad shoulders and carved abs.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who opens her mouth to speak, but you’re already on your knees, licking a slow path up the inside of her thigh. One arm wraps around her hips to hold her steady. “We gotta be quiet,” you murmur, breath ghosting over her. “You think you can do that?” She only nods, bottom lip caught between her teeth—but the second your tongue flicks over her clit, her hips jerk, a soft gasp slipping out. You glance up just in time to see her head thud back against the tile, eyes screwed shut. “Shit…ngh..”

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who really tries to stay still—she does—but you’re ruthless. Your tongue moves in tight circles, then dips lower, back up to suck her clit, fingers spreading her open just to see how wet she is, how messy it’s getting. The obscene sound of it is half-muffled by the stream of water pounding the tile behind you. She bucks hard into your mouth, thighs trembling as she grinds down, chasing the rhythm. Her hips stutter every time your tongue slips inside, one hand clawing at the wall for balance, muscles flexing, abs tensing with every stroke. “f–fuck—” she groans. 

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby whose nipples are hard from the heat, water dripping down every curve of her body as she throws her head back, moaning through clenched teeth. She’s trying so hard to stay quiet, but her body betrays her—hips rolling, thighs squeezing around your head, grinding down on your mouth like she needs to come or she’s going to lose her mind. Your hand snakes up her stomach, fingers grazing her chest, rolling a nipple between your fingers just to watch her shiver. And the sounds—god, the sounds—slick and loud, barely covered by the hiss of the shower. ˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who finally breaks, a gasp caught in her throat, body locking up as she comes, mouth parted in a silent cry, fingers digging into the fogged-up glass. You don’t stop. Not until her thighs shake and her hips pull back on instinct, overstimulated, breathless.

˚. ꒰Gymrat!Abby who slides down the wall, collapsing onto the tile with you, water still pouring over both of you. She looks at you with wide, dazed eyes, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

And just like that, she needs to train harder— to earn the way you screamed her name.

[layalisthings]

frat boy abby and her nerd gf headcanons₊˚⊹ ࿔

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ frat boy! abby who forces you to tutor her even if it’s a subject she knows. she just can’t pass up an opportunity to see her girl all studious!

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ she is a softie through and through… yes she is an absolute force to be reckoned with on the court but the second she gets home to you she’s the biggest baby ever.

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ loves making you wear her jerseys, seeing her last name on your back makes her feel like she’s silent claim over you (she does)

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ she loves taking you out on dates!! the movie theatre, various restaurants, even just sitting in the bed of her truck and watching the stars after a long day. if she has a chance to get you alone, she’s taking it.

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ poutiest woman alive after she loses a game, acts like an absolute three year old so she can be coddled and tended to. it works definitely, this girl has you cradling her against your chest like a baby while she whines about how she could’ve done better.

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ will listen to you ramble about anything for absolute hours. it’s only fair since she forces you to watch basketball until you fall asleep . . .

󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 󠀠 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ absolute gentle giant.. loves laying right on top of you while she naps. abby will definitely pick you up while you’re in the middle of studying so she can use you as a pillow!!