🐈‍⬛

i imagine it’s soooo hard for her to acclimate to her feelings. i doubt she ever brings up the fact that she’s never been with a woman, and you don’t feel a need to ask. all the pressure and embarrassment she feels is entirely of her own creation. 

she’s mostly scared of disappointing you. after all the strife you went through trying to get her attention, she didn’t want it to all be in vain. at this point, outside of what went down at the party that night, all that had happened was private flirting while the two of you were on opposite ends of the world. when your schedules finally line up and you invite her to your house for a few days, abby knows she has to get her shit together. the only issue is, there’s not really a way to study for these sorts of things. she knew what she liked, but that was about it. there was no one for her to ask or confide in, so she’s battling this demon all on her own. 

when the time came and you sat on the edge of your bed, carefully clipping your fake nails off and filing them down, abby knew it was now or never. she awkwardly excused herself to run to the bathroom and sat in there for nearly ten minutes trying to gather her bearings. 

the sight she saw when she stepped back into your bedroom made her heart stop. you were in the prettiest black lace lingerie adorned with bows and the sweetest smile on your face. 

“you alright?” was all you felt comfortable asking. you didn’t want an already obviously tense situation to turn into something worse because you decided to pry a little too much. you can’t scare the poor girl off.

abby nodded and moved to approach you. she felt ridiculously underdressed in her grey sweatpants and black t-shirt, but had a sneaking suspicion that that was the last thing on your mind. 

this time you knew you had to allow her to assume the dominant position first. well, dominant is a stretch, because you knew you had full control over the situation. there was no way that girl was going to do anything without you asking (read: telling) her to, but you figured the illusion of control would help her work her way towards actually being confident in this position. 

when she carefully slides her two fingers inside of you and feels how wet you are, she finally feels focused. in her world, this was the equivalent of touching gloves at the beginning of a match. 

she was dialed into every single noise you made. every moan, whimper, and swear that came out of your mouth was an affirmation that she was doing something right. 

the second you whisper, “now, curl your fingers inward.” she does just that. any and all instruction you gave was immediately applied. you had to give the girl some credit. she was a fast learner. 

when your breathing picked up and your head was thrown back against the pillow, abby took it as a sign to pick up her pace a bit. her thumb brushed your clit and you whined,

“more of that. keep doing that.” 

she nodded wordlessly, absolutely terrified that anything she might say would ruin the moment. 

when you’re finally panting and breathing out her name in between a slew of swears, she knew you were close. the feeling of you finally clenching around her fingers and releasing had her feeling a high almost comparable to a win in the octagon. 

over the next couple days that you’re together you two are fucking like it would be the last time you ever got to touch each other. to be fair, you honestly didn’t know the next time you’d have the time to come see her. dinner reservations were cancelled in favor of laying on top of each other, sweaty and sore, after another intense round of sex. you had made her cum more times in 48 hours than anyone had in her entire life. this was a far more pleasurable experience than any training retreat she had ever been on.

by the end of it, abby felt like a pro. she knew exactly how to read your body language and what pleased you. even better, she was actually able to laugh during sex. no awkward moment lasted very long because the two of you would always bust out laughing by the end of it. 

“how the fuck does this even work?” abby was standing by your bedside fumbling with the fasteners of the strap on. 

you laid on the bedside, doing your best to inspect the buckles. “i don’t fucking know, i just bought it.” 

the two of you spend so much time giggling that it takes at least twenty minutes for you both to calm down and get back to the task at hand. 

and let me tell you, this girl is a strap warrior. this is where she feels the most in control. buried deep inside of you, chest pressed against yours, your now blunt nails digging into her back. she loves looking you in the eyes. one of the only times you’ll pout and look away, feeling some semblance of shyness. 

when all was said and done, the both of you packed your bags and took a taxi to the airport together. she was on her way back to salt lake, and you were on your way to LAX for your layover on the way to tokyo. 

you entered the airport at 4AM, hand in hand, and gave her a kiss that you wished would last for ages. neither of you wanted to let the other go.

“text me when you land, okay?” you blow her one last kiss. 

☆ abby is obsessed with taking photos of you. you’re a model and you could pretty much pose in your sleep, so naturally abby takes advantage of that. it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing and that girl absolutely loves a candid. she made you breakfast? she’s taking a photo of you, fork in hand, taking your first bite. doing your makeup in the mirror? abby snaps a photo of you with the lip gloss applicator gliding across your lips. she’ll even take pictures of you after you’ve fallen asleep mid movie just to tease you about it later. 

something that absolutely astounds her is that you always look good. she has yet to take a bad photo of you. even when your back is to the camera, completely oblivious to her, your silhouette is somehow perfectly outlined against the halo of the sun. abby almost sees it as a challenge. take just one awkward off guard photo of you. you two have been dating for over a year and she’s genuinely amazed by how unintentionally flawless you are. whenever she brings it up you just shrug and laugh it off.

“i don’t know, model training is intense. i guess the mannerisms are naturally ingrained in my everyday movements. or i’m just perfect in every way. jury’s still out on that one, though.” 

abby never posts the photos she takes of you. the only time her camera work sees the light of day is when you ask her to take pictures of you on your phone for social media. at first, abby was off put by the amount of time you spent taking photos of yourself, the scenery, and everything in between, but she quickly adjusted. first of all, this is what you were paid to do and you loved everything about your job and she loved everything about you. secondly, this meant your walls were covered practically top to bottom of your friends, family, and abby. before she met you, she might’ve interpreted the absurd amount of photos of yourself as a grand show of vanity, but she knows you’re just thrilled to have documentation of the beautiful parts of your life. you were surrounded by reminders that you are deeply loved by the people around you. abby was grateful to hold a place on your wall. 

on a whim, abby decided to invest in a film camera. she was ready to embrace her official title as your personal camerawoman. 

most of the pictures were tame, but the photos she loved taking the most were staged in your bedroom. before sex, she would capture a few photos of you sliding off your dress, makeup still perfectly intact after an hours long red carpet movie premiere. you were always careful to hang up your dresses, as they were often on loan from different designers. your back turned to the camera, pulling a hanger from your walk in closet, abby would always find the perfect angle of your bare back and the lace panties that clung to your ass in a way that always took her breath away. 

your favorite photo captured by her that would never see the light of day was an up shot angle, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, while you took in the length of abby’s strap. 

that one never left it's spot at the back of her wallet, covered by several layers of cards and IDs.

☆ on a less serious note; your favorite thing to do is force her to learn tik tok dances and guest star in your videos. she pretends to hate it, but secretly she enjoys the absurdity of it all. ultimately, she knows it makes you happy so she is always willing to be a reluctant participant. both of you end up bursting out laughing by the end of it, leading to the majority of the recordings never leaving your drafts. 

it’s all fun and games until she’s doing a press conference and weigh in for her rematch with ellie.

“she’s a fucking joke. why don’t you go back to doing little dances with your girlfriend on tik tok?”

bold words for someone who blacked out and fell like a plank during their last match. 

you’re at home, arms crossed, watching it live. fucking bitch, you muttered under your breath to the empty room. 

when the day came, you're front row in the stadium screaming as the match progressed. after a few illegal moves, you were joining in with the crowd booing the ref.

second round came along and abby managed to secure ellie in a choke hold. ellie fought hard and long to get out of it before finally tapping the mat and giving in. you jumped out of your seat cheering as loud as you could. abby couldn’t hear you, but she could certainly imagine the scene of you jumping for joy. 

later in the infirmary, after she had gotten looked at and cleared by the doctors, you set up your phone and performed one of the dances that you two had rehearsed long before the match. the post was captioned:

back to doing little dances with my girlfriend on tik tok

☆ the two of you are invited to be interviewed on a segment consisting of abby reading thirst tweets about herself. neither of you took it too seriously, on account of you both being obviously disgustingly in love with each other. 

“god, i’m nervous. i can’t imagine what any of this says. she’s the one who’s addicted to twitter.” abby nods towards you. 

abby clears her throat and proceeds to read the first post.

“abby let me peel those dirty sweats off of you after a workout”

abby looks astonished, meanwhile you’re trying to hold in a laugh.  

“are they all like this? this is awful.” abby’s face is already hot with embarrassment.

“what do y’all think abby’s bush tastes like after a match?” 

you can’t hold in the laugh anymore, it all comes out in a snort. “am i allowed to answer?” 

abby shoves her elbow into your side. “stop it.”

“i will not stop working until i can find a way for abby anderson to get me pregnant” 

“dude, me too! i’ve said the same thing! you guys get it.”

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