Archive of Our Own ^beta

Abby has hidden her weed again.

Ellie knows, without a doubt, that it has been hidden and not misplaced. She knows this because she specifically remembers pre-packing herself a beautifully sticky bowl to enjoy after her double at GameStop, tucking it away into the back corner of the nightstand on her side of the bed. Then she had kissed Abby- who had already gone to the gym, showered, and climbed back into bed before the first of Ellie’s three alarms had even gone off- atop her head, half buried under their umber duvet, goodbye. She knows because that’s always where she leaves her stash, because she had chased the smell clinging to her fingers away with Germ-X before clocking in. Ellie knows, because all she has thought about all fucking day has been smoking that very bowl, devouring a crunchwrap supreme, and gagging on Abby’s strap- in exactly that order.

But as she opens the drawer that holds the beginnings of a glorious, almost unbelievable three consecutive days off, Ellie realizes something is amiss. Something being her pot, vanished into thin air. She takes a deep breath, rolling her toes across the floor- her feet fucking hurt, and the wood is cold, her Converse kicked off by the front door lest she get trapped in another Abby spiel about how shoes are unacceptable in the home they share together, seriously, Ellie, I know Joel didn’t raise you in a barn. 

Ellie bends down- once, twice, three times for good measure- to peer at the decidedly empty right corner of the nightstand. It’s smart, she has to admit, Abby pulling this stunt while the hospital has her on call, the unassuming sorry baby they need me it’s probably gonna be a late night :( there’s chicken and broccoli in the fridge! love you! text hiding whatever sinister plot is being pushed to keep her sober. She yanks off her jeans and polyester blend shirt, leaving them on the floor by Abby’s side of the bed, and pulls up their message thread. Abby has notifications silenced; Ellie pushes hers through as urgent.

what the fuck is wrong with u genuinely 

WHEREEEEE is it abby

daddy :/ this is like so mean

im not eating ur gross fucking meal prep gymrat shit I got taco bell and I even got you a baja blast but im gonna pour it down the drain now

Abby has multiple hiding spots- taking Ellie’s weed is, after all, a favorite game of hers, funny to no one but her- and Ellie has the patience to look in exactly one of them. But the Carhartt shoebox, stacked high on the shelf of their closet and still faintly smelling of the herbal scavenger hunt before last, yields no results. Resigned, Ellie decides instead to drown her sorrows in a scalding shower, lathering up Abby’s soap bar and scrubbing at her skin until the reek of gamer body odor has dissipated. Then it’s one of Abby’s old college golf club tshirts, about a million times too big but buttery to the touch, her wet hair dripping onto the heather grey cotton. Sans boxers- let her see what she’s not allowed to touch when she comes home to Ellie sprawled out on the couch watching Pawn Stars- she makes her way downstairs, resigning herself to a Corona and an orgasmless evening, determined to stand her ground no matter how well her girlfriend massages her calves.

But there, in the fridge, is the final straw: their beer shelf, completely wiped clean.

“What the fuck,” Ellie mutters, blinking against the harsh lights, irritation settling like a film over her skin. She grabs her phone- still no response, presumably because Abby is busy saving lives or whatever- and messages her again.

the beer too??????

what if I were suicidal 

no pussy for you tonight 

ever again actually

Shockingly, three little dots immediately pop up in response; Ellie takes her time curling up on the tail end of the couch, her eyelids heavy, the chance to finally rest leaving her boneless and warm. 

Hi baby <3

How was your day?

bad

even worse now

what is ur endgame exactly

To help the people of Seattle who need new hearts!!!!

its not like im high all the time

and I almost never drink

you just do this to piss me off

I think you’re really cute when you’re grumpy

fuck off

I think it’s extraaaa cute when you swear I’m never allowed to touch you again

And then you immediately forget that :)

im going to sleep so I dont have to interact with you when you get home 

My sleepy girl :)

You don’t need weed to relax! Maybe a bath instead 

I already took a shower

and of course I dont need it its just fun

but you wouldnt know anything about that huh

Don’t be mean :(

I have to go I’m in the bathroom they’ll come looking for me

I love you princess I’ll see you later <3

whatever

Love u too

fucking loser

She drops her phone onto the coffee table, tugging her favorite blanket- knit, with cutesy little pompoms, a birthday gift from Dina- over her bare legs. The familiar sounds of Washington outside, steady rain patter against the windows and distant thunder, soothe her to sleep.

_____

When Ellie wakes, it is to the dim apricot lighting of her living room, the scent of pine, and Abby’s calloused fingers playing with her cunt. 

“Oh, f-uck,” she whines, her voice hoarse with exhaustion and the sharp, sudden bloom of pleasure low in her belly, “Abby, what-?”

Abby’s own voice is low, a warm murmur against the shell of Ellie’s ear. “You’re the one who fell asleep with no underwear on. No pussy for me, huh? Not ever again?”

“I was going to teach you a lesson,” Ellie grumbles, her toes curling when Abby’s thumb sweeps over her clit, “by just making you look at me and not being able to touch. But this is cheating.”

“Yeah,” Abby breathes, her tone sounding far less agreeable than it does patronizing, “I guess it is. But you know the rules, baby. Daddy gets to touch wherever she wants, right? Whenever she wants.”

Ellie’s face scrunches up- it should be lame, and embarrassing, and maybe even deranged, but the name only serves to make her cunt pulse, her thighs tense up around Abby’s wrist. She’s wearing sweats and a ribbed tank, her skin dewy and clean, her face flushed with pleasure as she takes in the wet noises she’s pulling out of Ellie. Her scent is so strong that she must have showered beforehand; it makes her a little dizzy, knowing Abby could have been home for hours, could have done whatever she wanted to Ellie, heavy sleeper that she is.

And she realizes, as Abby hums and sinks herself two fingers deep into Ellie, that she probably did; Ellie is so wet it’s dripping down her legs and onto the blanket, conveniently twisted up beneath her so as to shield the couch cushions. It’s the kind of slick only an extensive amount of fucking could achieve, and Ellie’s breath hitches as Abby crooks her fingers up towards her belly.

“How long have you been…”

Abby hums again, leaning down to press a kiss to Ellie’s lips, deep and dirty in exactly the way she knows drives Ellie insane. “Not long,” she coos, her free hand sliding beneath the shirt Ellie stole from her to twist at a nipple, “maybe an hour or so?”

“Christ.”

Abby’s arm, rife with hard-earned muscle, moves languidly with the rhythm of her fingers, fucking in and out of Ellie. “When I got in, your legs were just… open. What was I supposed to do? Not touch you?”

Ellie tries to sound stern, but it’s difficult when she’s looking at Abby, massive and beautiful above her. “They were not, you fucking liar.”

“They were. The whole living room smelled like your pussy.”

Ellie giggles despite herself. “Gross. It did not.”

“Okay, maybe not. Kinda wish it did, though.”

"Freak. How was work?"

"Mm. It was fine. Busy. Lots of blood. I thought about you while I was unblocking arteries."

Ellie whimpers when Abby casually spits on her cunt, using her fingers to rub it inside, an overtly possessive move that makes her squirm. "You're so romantic, Anderson."

"No, I meant I was thinking about all the greasy shit you eat. And I felt despair."

Ellie huffs, dragging Abby back down, licking across her smirk. "Mean. I do eat your food sometimes, you know. Without even complaining about it."

"I have noticed missing tupperware when it's lentil pasta week."

"Oh god, the one with the zucchini? Can you make that again soon? It's, like, insanely good."

Abby blinks, startled. And then her arm tenses, a sly grin splitting her normally pouty lips; Ellie stiffens, her eyes going wide, fighting through the sheen of pleasure to grasp fruitlessly at her chest. “No. Abby, no, not on the couch, you’re gonna bitch about it for a week if I squirt here.”

“I won’t, I swear, just let me.”

“Abby- fuck, I'm scared-"

"You always say that. And you always enjoy it. It's okay, just let go."

"Daddy, shit, oh my god.”

Her tone, already at a baseline of cocky as all fuck, drops another register when Ellie’s eyes begin to roll into the back of her head. “There we go. Don’t worry about cleanup, just worry about coming. Okay?”

And come Ellie does, all over Abby’s hand and sweatpants, the pleasure burning so intensely that her vision whites out for a moment. She jerks through it, Abby’s fingers drawing out her orgasm as long as possible, matching the tempo set by Ellie’s own twitching hips.

Finally, she goes limp against the cushions, feeling wrung out. Abby gently removes her fingers then, without missing a beat, presses them against Ellie’s lips until she opens up, sucking them down to the hilt. 

“Good girl.” She mumbles, her eyes lidded with arousal, rubbing her palm against the quivering plane of Ellie’s stomach. Ellie wriggles her tongue in thanks, and Abby takes a deep breath- one that makes Ellie worried she’s going to end this night in overstimulated tears. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

“To go to sleep, right? Cause I’m fucking tired.”

Abby snorts, plucking her off the couch and guiding her legs around her brawny waist without being asked. Ellie wraps her arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to the soft hallow of her throat, breathing in the warm smell of her skin.

“Sure, Ellie. To go to sleep.”

_____

Three orgasms later, Ellie collapses back against the sheets, panting, Abby’s disheveled braid tickling the inside of her thighs. 

“Can I please- fuck,” she groans, as Abby gives her cunt a slow, broad lick, like she’s a fucking ice cream cone on a sweltering August afternoon, “Abby, I can’t… let me eat you out. Please.”

Abby huffs, dragging herself up Ellie’s body, stopping to suck a mark into one of her tits. “Okay, princess. But only because you can still form coherent sentences, and I don’t like that.”

She kicks off her boxers, leaving them in the growing laundry pile on the floor- sloppy, for her, which is how Ellie knows she’s insanely turned on. Ellie starts to flip onto her belly, but Abby gently holds her down, swinging one thick leg over her chest.

“Oh,” Ellie whispers, dreamy, settling back down into the bed, “fuck yes.”

She chuckles- she knows how much Ellie loves it when she sits on her face, and so she treats it as a gift to dole out at her own discretion, like it’s an adorable little anecdote and not the hottest fucking thing that can possibly happen to Ellie. “Be a good girl and make me come, okay? Then I might get out the strap.”

And so Ellie sets about making it happen. There is, truly, nowhere else she would rather be- Abby is soaked, and she smells so intensely of clean sweat and musk that it makes Ellie feel drunk. Her taste is tartly familiar, mild yet luscious, and Ellie cannot help the way her own hips buck as she buries her face against Abby’s cunt, her nose bumping against her stiff clit. She grasps at Abby’s ass- all muscle, and she is once again reminded that she should probably give in to Abby begging her to join her gym sessions, if for no other reason than to watch her pants strain as she deadlifts four hundred pounds.

“Fuck, baby, right there,” Abby breathes, urging Ellie to continue with the long drags of her tongue. She feels like little more than a conduit for Abby to get off, because she’s grinding down against Ellie’s face of her own volition, setting her own pace, mindful of the weight she has over her. Ellie moans, greedy, more than happy to simply be used; when Abby comes it’s a quiet thing, completely unlike Ellie’s ungodly screeches and whimpers. Her cunt pulses around Ellie’s tongue, once, twice, before she collapses off to the side, resting her head atop Ellie’s belly while she regains her bearings. 

“That was too fast.” Ellie complains, nudging at Abby until she has access to her lips, licking into her mouth desperately. “Can you get back on?”

“Nice try,” and suddenly she’s rooting around in her own nightstand, dropping the thick black harness and matching silicone onto the mattress, “but you’re not getting out of this.”

Ellie licks her lips, once the straps are tightened around Abby’s hips, lube from the warmer they splurged on spread across the dildo. But instead of anything remotely sexy, what instead blurts out of her is, “Where is my weed?”

Abby frowns, her hand absentmindedly stroking herself- a sight that makes Ellie’s mouth water, her clit throb. “This is why I hid it. How the fuck are you thinking about weed right now?”

And she isn’t, really, it was an honest question with no longing attached to it- but seeing Abby this irritated makes something warm and fuzzy melt through her. “Don’t get me wrong, this is great. But, like, what if I were high and getting fucked? It would be even better.” Ellie pauses, considering. “Daddy.”

Abby rolls her eyes- though her pupils, Ellie notes triumphantly, are still blown- yanking her closer to her by the ankle, flipping her over and positioning her so her ass is in the air. She spanks Ellie, light, more of a casual complaint than an actual reprimand, but it brings forth a new surge of wetness anyways. “Don’t daddy me. Brat. You don’t respect that title at all.”

“I do, I do, it’s just-“ Abby pushes down on the middle of her back until her ass can go no higher, her arms tucked up against her chest, “never mind, god, please fuck me.”

“You don’t deserve it,” Abby sighs, pressing in without warning, inch by inch until her front is flush with Ellie’s back, “like, at all. But you’re so goddamn pretty. And wet. I can’t help myself.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed that when I woke up to you fucking me. You’re a real creep, you know that?”

Abby pulls out, then slowly thrusts back in, so fucking deep it makes Ellie’s breath hitch. “Uh-huh. Who pays for the house, baby?”

“You, but-“

“Who bought you that ugly ass Subaru you drive around in?”

“Hey, it’s not- shit, okay, okay, you did-“

Abby reaches around to rub at her clit, demanding, and Ellie gasps, tangling her fingers into the sheets, a bolt of pleasure surging through her. Her thrusts are unrelenting and calculated, and Ellie knows exactly what she’s doing; how much she likes to lean back and watch her dick disappear into Ellie, how much the sight of her clinging, creamy and slick, to the silicone makes her mild-mannered girlfriend feral.

“That’s right, I did.”

“What is,” Ellie’s manages to get out, grinding down as much as she can against Abby’s hand, “your point?”

“My point,” she punctuates with a particularly dirty thrust, “is that I can do whatever the fuck I want to you. Spoiled brat.”

And of course she can, Ellie would literally get down on her hands and knees and beg for the privilege of merely being in her presence if that’s what Abby wanted- and though normally Ellie would fight it, brat against it, she doesn’t think she has it in her tonight. So instead, she makes her voice placatingly high and sugary-sweet, exactly the way she knows drives Abby crazy. “Yes. M’yours, daddy, you can- can do whatever you want-“

“Fuck,” Abby huffs, falling for it hook line and sinker; leaning down to press her chest against Ellie’s back, getting right up against her ear, “what a good girl. You gonna come for me, baby? All over my fucking dick?”

At that, Ellie’s orgasm shoots through her, a full-body thing, leaving her ears ringing and her legs trembling. Abby coos her through it, her thick fingers playing with Ellie’s clit like she is nothing more than a toy, and Ellie feels herself mouth at the pillow as her cunt gushes, her head tingly. Abby gets in a few more thrusts for good measure, then pulls out with a mortifying squelch, because she knows if she waits too long Ellie will get too sensitive, and the discomfort of it won’t be sexy.

She’s not really present, as Abby adjusts them until Ellie’s sprawled out on top of her, now drooling against her freckled breasts instead of the pillow. Her head is completely blank, barely registering Abby’s hands soothing up and down her back, the kisses pressed to her cheeks and her forehead. She reminds herself to sync up with Abby’s deep, even breaths, the ones she knows are for her benefit. And she feels so loved, so content with that that she can’t even find it in her to gag at the sappiness of it all.

“Hey, baby,” Abby eventually murmurs, brushing the hair away from where it has been plastered to her forehead with sweat, “you back with me?”

“Mmm.”

She laughs, soft, squeezing Ellie closer to herself. “Right. You feel okay? You need anything?”

“Kisses,” Ellie mumbles, unable to feel embarrassed about it, vibrating with pleasure when Abby complies, “and my weed.”

“Hold on. What about my baja blast? Is it safe in the fridge?”

Ellie snuggles deeper into her, leaving a sloppy, sleepy kiss on her right breast.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m holding it hostage somewhere. Wanna do a prisoner of war exchange?”

“I’d tell you to fuck off, but I think you’re a little too sensitive for teasing right now. You might cry.”

“I would not.”

Abby mhms, kissing her forehead and tugging the duvet over the two of them, and Ellie sighs, easily melting into her post-fucking daze. 

(She probably would cry. Whatever.)