#wcbb

[mystarosaragi]

[authentic-girl03]

The clip vs the photo, she is stunning🤩

[ksimsplayer]

FUCK YES

[b1lezy]

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 (𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠) — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: Memories hurt. A lot.

a/n: this is an au where Pagie and Azzi are childhood friends. "present day" is 8 years after their breakup (aka 2032). Everything else is exactly the same.

𖤓 chapter 1 𖤓 chapter 2

[hoopingwjuju]

okayyyy silk press

[lupinqs]

THE TONIGHT SHOW ━━ paige bueckers x actress!reader

☆ ━ summary: a talk show, an after party, and far too much champagne leads paige bueckers straight to you.

☆ ━ word count: 9.5K

☆ ━ warnings: smut (scissoring, oral, fingering)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: shameless timmy chalamet cameo because i love him…. anyways that pic with p and the champagne single-handedly revived my writing

THE DRESSING ROOM is loud, but in a muted way—voices murmuring over each other, flat irons hissing like snakes, the faint thump of bass through the walls as the Tonight Show band rehearses. You’re sitting in a high-backed chair, eyes half-lidded, a stylist brushing highlighter onto your cheekbone while someone else carefully curls the ends of your hair. You’re barely paying attention, letting yourself be fussed over like a human Barbie. You’re used to it by now.

Timothée’s sprawled on the little velvet couch behind you, legs hanging over the arm like a spider that’s given up. He’s buzzing, as usual, knee bouncing, fingers drumming against his thigh. You love him, but he never seems to run out of energy. You glance at him in the mirror as he tosses a piece of popcorn in the air and catches it with his mouth. Barely.

“Missed,” you mutter.

He gasps like you insulted his lineage. “Just untruthful.”

You grin, but your attention shifts. Something itches in your brain—some piece of information you forgot to check.

“What’s the lineup tonight?” you ask, voice pitched slightly above the hum around you.

The girl doing your hair, her name’s Rachel you think, nods absently as she wraps another section around the curling iron. “Rami Malek’s first, then you two. Oh, and I think Paige Bueckers has a little cameo. She’s crashing the monologue but doesn’t have an interview.”

Timothée sits up like he’s just heard his name. “Ohhh, because they won the natty, right?”

Rachel nods, unfazed. “Yeah. She’s just doing a little bit with Jimmy to start the show. Real quick thing.”

“Damn,” Timothée whistles low, like he’s genuinely impressed. “She a hooper, for real. I wanna meet her.”

You roll your eyes playfully but don’t say anything right away. Of course you know who Paige Bueckers is. Everyone does right now.

A few days ago, you watched her team win the national championship. You weren’t at home or anything sentimental—just curled up in your trailer between night shoots, a bowl of cereal in your lap and your assistant’s login for ESPN on your phone. But you’d watched her. The way she moved. The way she led.

You’re not a basketball diehard by any means, but the big stuff? You pay attention. And Paige is big. A name on the rise. A face that teenage girls across America are scribbling in the margins of their notebooks, reposting edits of on TikTok, screaming about like she’s Harry Styles during prime One Direction days. The girl’s got motion.

You don’t know what it is about her. Maybe it’s the way she smiles when she’s caught off guard or how she carries herself like she doesn’t care at all what anyone thinks. Or maybe it’s just the fact that she’s hot and tall and athletic and entirely too marketable.

Timothée tosses another piece of popcorn into his mouth. “What do you think she’s like?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes a little. Your co-star loves sports and Paige has been the biggest name in them this week. “I don’t know. Cool, probably.”

He nods along, chewing his popcorn. “Well, duh. She’s an athlete. They’re all cool.” (Case in point.)

You nod slowly, lips parting but not quite moving yet. You’ve been in rooms with world-famous people, with actors who have Oscars and musicians who have egos the size of planets. But there’s something about athletes—especially ones who just won something. There’s a heat to them, a freshness. Like they’re alive in a way everyone else is pretending to be.

“D’you think she’ll still be here after the show?” Timothée asks curiously. “Maybe at the after-thing?”

You hum, noncommittal.

But secretly, you hope so too.

Not that you’re planning anything. Not that it matters. You’re just curious.

That’s all.

And then—it’s time for rehearsal. Nothing new. You and Timothée are ushered through narrow hallways that smell faintly of hairspray and cold brew, past stagehands with headsets and clipboards. Jimmy’s warm-up guy gives you a quick wave. Someone hands you a printout with a few of the pre-cleared talking points: talk about the shoot in Italy, Timothée’s improv moment in the cafe scene, your character’s breakdown, funny story about the crying scene.

The usual fluff.

You barely glance at it. You and Timmy have done this song and dance enough times to know that the real magic happens when you ignore the cards and just talk.

Still, you sit side by side on the little couch in the green room, tossing lines back and forth as if you’re already on air.

“Okay,” Timmy says, clearing his throat in an exaggerated newscaster voice. “Tell me, what was it like doing another film where all you do is cry?”

You snort. “Life-changing. I mean, I think I’ve really got it down now. You, on the other hand…”

“Hey!” he clutches his chest dramatically. “I cried some beautiful tears.”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re both still laughing as the stage manager pokes her head in. “We’re about to get to your segment. Paige just finished her bit.”

At the mention of her name, something flickers in your chest—quick and sharp, like a spark. You don’t know why. You don’t even know her. You just saw her on TV a few days ago, limbs outstretched and screaming at the buzzer with the rest of her team swarming her like bees to honey.

Now she’s here, in the building. Probably just down the hall.

Timothée, of course, notices your shift. “You nervous?” he teases, nudging your shoulder.

You shake your head. “Nah.”

You don’t elaborate.

The rest of it happens fast.

They mic you up, fluff your hair one last time, and lead you through the wings toward the main stage. Jimmy’s voice floats through the air as he wraps up a bit with the band. The audience laughs, and the floor vibrates faintly with applause.

“Alright,” Jimmy grins, turning toward the camera. “Coming up next, two of my favorite people!” He calls your name and then Timothée’s, ushering you both onto the stage.

The applause swells like a wave. The music kicks in. You walk out with Timmy beside you, the lights hitting hard and hot, but you don’t flinch. You smile. You wave. You hug Jimmy and sit down on the couch, legs crossed, posture perfect. Timmy hams it up immediately, pointing at the crowd and then at you like, can you believe this woman? The audience eats it up.

It’s easy. Familiar. You talk about the movie. Timmy tells the story of how the gelato stand you filmed at got mobbed by fans. You talk about a scene that took eight takes because the wind kept flipping your hair into your mouth. Jimmy laughs too hard. The audience claps on cue.

And somewhere, offstage—maybe leaning against a wall or scrolling through her phone—Paige Bueckers is watching.

Maybe.

Not that it, like, matters.

PAIGE ISN’T USED to feeling like this.

She’s good with people. Always has been. Her dad used to say she could talk to a brick wall and get it to smile. She knows how to work a room, can flip the switch between lowkey and charismatic like it’s nothing. And normally, this kind of party would be her sweet spot—music pulsing, champagne in hand, famous people milling around.

But she’s been a little overwhelmed—and who can blame her? The last few days have been a whirlwind—interviews, flights, appearances, more interviews. Since the natty win, her world’s been spinning faster than usual, and not even her extroversion can keep up with the pace forever.

She’s grateful that Azzi and Kaitlyn are here with her. They’re posted up by the bar, all of them sipping champagne and trying to stay nonchalant, even though they just met Alicia Keys and Azzi legitimately had to walk away before she burst into tears.

“She said she watched the game,” Kaitlyn says, shaking her head in disbelief and swirling her glass.

“She said she loved my jumper,” Paige deadpans.

Paige lets the conversation blur around her, her eyes scanning the room over the rim of her glass. It’s crowded with beautiful, wildly successful people. She recognizes singers, actors, athletes. Everyone smells expensive and looks like they floated in from a campaign shoot.

Then she sees you.

You’re wearing a black dress that makes her blink twice. It clings in all the right places, dips a little lower than should be legal, and your hair is tucked behind one ear like you’re unaware of how gorgeous you look. Or maybe you are aware. Maybe that’s the point.

You’re deep in conversation with Kylie Jenner, who’s leaning in close, sipping on something pink and fizzy. Timothée Chalamet is perched beside you, laughing at something Kylie says, his hand tapping against her hip.

You look… perfect. Fuckable. Edible. Paige knows that it’s probably disrespectful to think of you like that when she’s never even spoken to you, but—damn—she can’t help herself.

Of course, she recognizes you instantly. She’s seen all your movies. Follows you on Instagram. Knows which photo you posted after the Venice premiere because she may or may not have saved it. She’s watched interviews you’ve done, including the one tonight with Jimmy Fallon and Timothée.

“You should go talk to her,” Azzi says beside her, like she’s been waiting for the moment Paige would finally catch up.

Paige startles slightly. “What?”

“You’ve been staring. Go rub your hands together and rizz her up or something,” Kaitlyn adds, laughing a little at the end. Azzi does, too.

“I haven’t—” Paige scoffs. “Fine, maybe a lil.”

Azzi nudges her with her elbow. “She’s right there. Just go say hi.”

“Yeah, because that won’t be weird. ‘Hi, I’m Paige, I’m a fan, please marry me.’” The blonde gives her best friend a look.

Kaitlyn grins. “You’ve said worse to girls you weren’t obsessed with.”

“I’m not obsessed with her.”

Azzi lifts a brow.

“… I’m just aware of her existence,” Paige mutters into her champagne.

She turns back toward you just in time to catch you laughing at something Kylie says. It’s a real laugh—head tilted back slightly, hand brushing your collarbone. You’re flushed with happiness or alcohol or both. Timothée leans toward you to whisper something in your ear, and you swat him away like a brother, grinning the whole time.

You look like a dream Paige isn’t sure she’s allowed to have.

Azzi nudges her again. “Go.”

“I’m waiting til she’s not surrounded.”

“She’s never not gonna be surrounded. That’s the point of people like her. They orbit.”

Paige sips her drink, hesitating. You glance up—just for a second—and Paige swears you catch her watching. Your gaze flits past, then back again, like you’re registering her face. There’s a pause, something unreadable in your expression, and then Kylie tugs at your wrist and you look away.

Paige exhales. She takes a sip of her champagne. She’s going to stay nonchalant. If she gets the opportunity to talk to you—later, maybe—then she will. But not right now.

Or, well, actually, maybe right now.

Because when she turns her head to look back at where you were previously standing, all she sees is Timothée Chalamet is walking toward the bar.

And you’re by his side.

You’re a few feet away, pausing just short of the counter to place a drink order. You laugh at something Timothée says, one hand resting loosely on the curve of your hip, the other reaching for a cocktail menu you probably won’t read. Paige’s eyes catch on the way your dress rides up just slightly as you lean forward, the way your hair falls over your shoulder, and it’s almost enough to knock the air out of her chest and send heat to her stomach.

She forces herself to look cool, calm. Like she belongs here. Like she’s not actively freaking out about the fact that the actress she might, sort of, maybe be lowkey obsessed with is now ten feet away ordering a drink.

And then it happens.

Timothée glances across the bar, eyes scanning lazily—until they land on her.

His whole face lights up. Like, visibly. Like they’re old friends or something.

“Yoooo! Paige!” he says, grinning, like he’s been waiting all night to spot her.

Paige blinks, actually looks behind her to make sure he means her.

“You’re Paige Bueckers, right?” he continues, already stepping closer. “Yo, I watched the championship game. You’re nasty. Ate them gamecocks up.”

Paige lets out a short laugh, genuinely caught off guard. “You watched?”

“‘Course I did, bro!” His grin widens, like it’s insane she didn’t believe. “I’ve been following y’all forever. Y’all are hoopers.”

Kaitlyn is already whispering to Azzi, probably something like what the hell is happening right now, but Paige tries not to pay attention to that. She holds her champagne glass a little tighter and nods coolly.

“Appreciate it, man. That means a lot,” she says, managing to keep her voice steady. “These are my teammates, Azzi and Kaitlyn.”

Paige watches as Timothée daps both of them up, his whole body buzzing—probably with champagne. “Nice to meet you guys. Love both your games, for real.”

And then Paige sees it—the way his eyes flick back to you as the bartender slides your drink across the counter. You’re turning to say thank you, lifting the glass to your lips. And then, without warning, Timothée reaches out, both hands grabbing onto your shoulders.

“Yo, you gotta meet someone,” he says, steering you gently but decisively in their direction. “Come here.”

You glance over, a little curious but not annoyed, your gaze settling on Paige and her friends as you approach. Paige straightens up slightly—not noticeably, she hopes—but she can already feel the warmth rising in her chest.

“This,” Timothée says, pulling you in beside him, “is Paige Bueckers. Bucketssss!” The way he drags out the second word leads Paige to believe he’s had one too many champagnes.

You smile easily, glossy lips pulling up at the corners. “Yeah, I know who she is.”

Paige feels her brain short-circuit for just a second.

Your voice is soft but certain, laced with that familiar confidence she’s seen in your interviews. And now it’s directed at her.

She nods, flashes a small grin. She hopes she seems chill. “Aye, good to know I’m not invisible.”

You laugh, and Paige swears the whole party sound dips out behind it. “Not even close.”

“This is Azzi and Kaitlyn,” Paige adds, gesturing toward her teammates, desperate to keep the conversation moving so she doesn’t drown in her own nerves.

You offer both of them a quick wave, clearly familiar enough with sports to know names, but you’re focused mostly on Paige now. And that’s dangerous.

Because up close, you’re even more stunning. Your dress dips just slightly in the front, and the shape of your cleavage makes Paige want to forget how to speak English. She reminds herself—she’s fine. She’s got game. She’s been in tougher spots than this.

But your eyes flick down her frame briefly—just a flash—and then back to her eyes. You tilt your head a little, smile. And she thinks, maybe she doesn’t.

“You played great in March, by the way. I saw that forty piece.”

Paige raises a brow, impressed. Her forty piece wasn’t in the natty or Final Four—it was in the Sweet Sixteen. So, maybe you weren’t just watching to watch. Maybe. “You watched that game?”

You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “I dabble in excellence.”

Timothée lets out a loud drunken laugh beside you, “Dabble in excellence—I’m stealing that.”

Paige’s grin widens. “You can’t just dabble in March.”

“Guess I’m a committed fan, then,” you say casually, and God, you really don’t play fair.

Azzi catches Paige’s eye behind your back, giving her the most painfully obvious oh, you’re screwed face. Paige ignores her entirely.

“Well,” Paige says, lifting her glass toward yours, “cheers, then.”

You clink glasses with her, your fingers brushing against hers briefly. “Cheers.”

And it’s not flirty, not exactly—not yet. But there’s something in the way you’re looking at her now. A spark. An open door. Well, shit.

Paige doesn’t know where this is going, but suddenly she doesn’t care how tired she is or how long this week has been—because you’re standing in front of her in that damn dress, and you know her name, and your smile is enough to knock her off balance in the best possible way.

But, the thing about nights like this is that they never really slow down.

One minute, Paige is thinking she might actually be getting somewhere—that you might actually be into talking to her—and the next, someone who looks vaguely famous (blonde, sequined, expensive) is whisking you and Timothée away with a cheerful, “Come on, you have to meet—!”

You shoot Paige an apologetic little smile as you’re tugged off, mouthing something like sorry!, and then you’re gone. Just like that. The crush of bodies swallows you whole.

And Paige… is left standing there, still gripping her champagne glass like it might offer answers.

Azzi bumps her shoulder. “Paige,” she laughs.

“I’m calm,” Paige lies through her teeth, staring at the spot you were just standing in.

“Uh-huh,” Azzi nods, looking entirely unconvinced, biting her lip to fight another laugh from escaping.

Kaitlyn grins, too. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’,” Paige mutters, taking another sip, “that I shoulda said more.”

Azzi snorts. “Nah, you said enough. She was into it.”

Paige gives her a side-eye. “You think?”

“She smiled at you like this.” Azzi does a dramatic, slow-motion head tilt, batting her lashes.

“Stop.” Paige shoves her.

But… yeah, maybe she’s hoping her best friend is a little right about this one thing.

IT’S ALMOST AN HOUR before she sees you again.

In the meantime, she’s made rounds with Azzi and Kaitlyn, posed for some photos, took another flute of champagne, and then promptly lost track of them somewhere around a table filled with sliders and very fancy-looking truffle fries.

She heads to the bathroom just to get a breather, leaning against the marble counter and staring at herself in the mirror for a beat too long.

You’re fine, she tells herself. You’re not twelve. She’s just hot. And famous. And you’re…

She frowns. “Also hot. And famous,” she says out loud, trying to hype herself up. It doesn’t work. She’s never really cared about either of those things.

And, of course, the mirror—as expected—doesn’t respond.

She leaves the bathroom and steps back into the party, only to find that Azzi and Kaitlyn have fully vanished. Not just moved—vanished. Gone without a trace. It’s not that big of a room, but the lights are low, and the music is louder now, and she’s weaving through the crowd like she’s suddenly in a dream sequence.

Then—

“Your teammates ditch you?”

The voice comes from behind, low and familiar, and Paige freezes before she turns.

You.

You’re standing there holding an empty glass, still looking so fucking fine in that damn dress, your weight shifted to one hip and an amused tilt to your head like you might already know the effect you’re having on her.

Paige blinks once. “Uh…”

You stare.

She clears her throat, pulling herself together. “Yeah. Seems like they did.”

You nod, tapping the side of your glass. “It’s okay. I was ditched too.”

She laughs softly, eyes flicking down to the floor and then back to you. “Timothée ditched you?” She doesn’t add the fact that she thinks anyone ditching you might as well be a crime.

You shrug, scrunching your nose just slightly. “Yeah. He and Kylie left. They’re always escaping to go be nasty together.”

And Paige—

Paige blinks, because the first thought that enters her brain is: you and I can go be nasty together.

And the second thought is: Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me.

She manages to keep a straight face, nodding with a mix of mock solemnity and disgust. “Gross.”

“Very,” you agree, leaning a little closer. “But I guess that makes us the abandoned ones. Left to fend for ourselves in this sea of glitter and Botox.”

Paige chuckles. “Could be worse.”

You smile at her, a dimple popping out of your cheek. “Could definitely be worse.”

There’s a beat. A pause, but not an awkward one. The music swells in the background—some mellow pop remix of a song Paige doesn’t recognize—and your eyes haven’t left hers.

But then they do, glancing at her empty glass. “Out of champagne?”

She looks down like she didn’t realize it. “Apparently.”

You hold up yours, empty too. “Same. Let’s fix that?”

Paige nods, heart ticking up a notch. “Let’s.”

You both drift to the bar again, standing shoulder to shoulder while the bartender takes someone else’s overly complicated drink order. You lean in a little as you wait, not quite touching but close enough that Paige can smell the citrusy perfume on your neck.

“Sooo…” you say, dragging the word out, looking at her sideways and smirking a little. “You’re gon’ be the number one pick next week, yeah?”

Paige feels her face flush a little, blood rushing through her cheeks. The draft. Another thing that’s coming head-on. She’s excited. Grateful, of course. Just… also still a little overwhelmed. It’s okay; she’ll be ready come Monday.

She swallows, shrugging a little. “If that’s in God’s plan for me, then I guess so.”

Your eyes seem to soften a bit at that but before you can respond, the bartender finally turns to you both. Paige puts on her normal smile, ordering two more glasses and sliding her card across the counter before you can even reach for your handbag.

You arch a brow. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she hums, not elaborating. She leans against the bar, looks at you. She hopes she seems smoother than she feels.

Your lips twist into something almost flirtatious. “Fine. But only if I get to buy the next round.”

“You planning on stayin’ that long?”

You tilt your head, gaze sharp and playful. “I don’t know. You planning on making it worth my while?”

And there it is—Paige feels it hit her chest, the full-body flush of oh my God, this is happening.

She plays it cool. Leans in just a little. “I might.”

You hold her gaze for a moment. The drinks arrive. You both take a sip, and something simmers in the space between you.

“Okay then,” you say softly. “Show me what you’ve got, PB.”

THE DRINKS GO DOWN easily. Too easily, maybe.

Because—one minute, Paige is flirting with you at the bar, and the next, you’re both in the family restroom.

It’s a nice bathroom. Like, really nice. Too nice for what’s about to happen in it.

There’s a changing table, a comfy little chair in the corner, even a soft-glow light coming from behind the mirror. It smells like eucalyptus.

Paige watches as you push the lock in with a soft click. You move then, stepping right into her space.

She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even think.

Her mouth is on yours before either of you says a word.

It’s hot. Messy in the way champagne makes everything feel a little blurred and desperate. Paige’s hands find your waist, pulling you closer and pushing you until your back hits the edge of the sink. You’re kissing her like you’ve been waiting all night to, and Paige is still trying to keep her cool but—God, the way you taste, the way you’re tugging at the open collar of her flannel—it’s a lot.

Paige slips her tongue into your mouth, licking around, tasting. You make a low sound when she sucks lightly on your bottom lip and Paige feels it everywhere.

“Fuck,” you mumble and Paige manages to laugh a little, low and breathless, before tilting your chin up to kiss you deeper.

Paige’s head spins a little.

How did she even get here?

She’s in a family restroom. At a celebrity afterparty. With you. Famous, perfect, actress you, whose Instagram she’s stalked more times than she’ll ever admit. And now you’re as close as possible, your tongue tangled with hers.

This can’t even be real.

And yet—your mouth moves to her jaw, kissing along it in slow, maddening lines, and Paige grips the edge of the sink behind you because if she doesn’t hold onto something, she might just melt into the floor.

You murmur into her neck, “You good?”

She laughs quietly, shakes her head a little. “Yeah,” she mumbles, a little breathless. She reaches for your face again, adding, “C’mere,” pulling you back in.

She kisses you, harder this time, a little reckless. You taste like champagne and mistakes and her own disbelief. And strawberry lip gloss. The same strawberry lip gloss that she’s essentially sucked off.

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of her flannel, lightly tracing the skin above her waistband, and it makes her hips twitch forward before she can stop it. You feel it. Smirk into the kiss.

“Easy, Bueckers,” you tease, lips brushing hers.

Paige swears something explodes behind her ribs. Like a firework. Or a panic attack. Or both.

She groans, kissing you again—if she doesn’t keep doing it, she might lose her mind. Her hands move back to your waist, grabbing you, your dress wrinkling slightly beneath the grip of her palms. You kiss her deeper, mouth open and needy, teeth grazing the blonde’s lip.

Paige’s hands slide lower, palms skimming down the curve of your back, fingers trailing over the fabric of your dress until they land—firmly, confidently—on your ass. She gives a slow squeeze, exhaling lowly at the feeling. You make a soft sound, too, and it nearly sends her spiraling.

Paige feels you press closer to her, your leg nudging between hers slightly. Her pulse picks up like she’s got two seconds left on the shot clock and the ball’s in her hands.

Her hands palm at you again, trying to memorize the shape of you. At the feeling, you pull back just enough to speak, lips kiss-swollen and spit-slick, eyes a little glossy.

“D’you wanna leave?” you ask, voice low and slightly breathless.

Paige’s mouth instinctively moves to your jaw, kissing there, slow and a little greedy. She hums against your skin. “Where would we go?”

You tip your head back slightly, exposing your neck to her in a way that drives her insane. “Back to mine?”

And—fuck.

That snaps something within Paige.

She stills for a half-second. Not pulling away. Just taking a moment. Letting that sentence sit in the air between you two.

Back to yours.

You. Your apartment. You, a little tipsy and flushed and stunning and clearly just as into this as she is.

How in the hell?

This doesn’t happen to her. Sure, she’s fucked a good amount of girls on campus. Sure, she’s got a lot of fans that edit her. But this? You? The girl with the Oscar buzz and the actual fame and that little black dress that’s been driving her out of her mind all night?

All she can think is—thank God for that natty.

She kisses you again, deep and hungry and like that answers the question for her.

You smile into it, pulling back just slightly, lips grazing hers as you ask, “Yeah?”

And Paige—grinning now, breath uneven, hands still resting on your ass, fingers skimming the back of your thighs because your dress is so short—says against your mouth, “Oh, yeah.”

You laugh, and it’s giddy and bright and sounds like bells. Paige wants to hear it again.

But then you’re both moving. You smooth your dress, pulling it down a little, fixing your lipgloss in the mirror with a lazy swipe of your finger. Paige straightens her flannel and tightens her ponytail, trying not to look like she was just seconds away from doing something very vile in a public restroom.

You unlock the door. Step out first.

Paige follows, hand brushing the small of your back before she shoves it in her pocket, like if she doesn’t, she’ll touch you again in front of everyone.

You both re-enter the noise and chaos of the party like nothing happened. Paige sends a quick text to Azzi and Kaitlyn—wherever they are—telling them of where she’s going.

You catch her eye over your shoulder as you lead the way toward the exit. And Paige just follows—completely, hopelessly, happily gone.

YOU TAKE THE SUBWAY.

You could’ve called a car—should’ve, probably—but it just feels easier like this. It’s late, the platform is as quiet as it is all day, and there’s something a little funny about a famous actress and a famous basketball player going home on the subway following a celebrity afterparty. You half expect her to complain or hesitate, but she doesn’t. She stays right beside you the whole time. Close, like she needs to feel the heat from your skin.

You feel the same. It’s almost like your skin might catch fire if she gets any nearer.

You don’t talk much, just a few soft jokes between stations. Stuff like:

“Are the subways usually this dirty?”

“Paige.”

And:

“People are staring.”

“Yeah. At you.”

“Mm. Doubt it.”

“You’re holding the pole like it owes you money, Bueckers. You’re not exactly blending in.”

(Clearly, Paige is not a New Yorker.)

She laughs at that, quietly, and you watch her from the corner of your eye.

You didn’t plan this. At all.

When the girl doing your makeup mentioned Paige Bueckers would be popping into the Tonight Show monologue, you’d barely reacted. Just filled it away. You knew who she was, of course—who doesn’t, at this point? You’re not deep into basketball, more of a casual watcher, but she’s impossible to ignore. A little golden, a little unreal.

You definitely didn’t expect to be on your way home with her a few hours later.

But then Timmy geeked out. Saw her at the bar, dragged you to meet her. Said her name with this over-the-top awe as if he isn’t ten times more famous than her. You’d just laughed and let him, not thinking too much about it—until you got close.

And then, yeah, you understood.

She’s hot.

Like, obviously. She’s tall, strong, stupidly pretty in a way that seems both entirely effortless and at the same time a little intentional. Her posture alone—the confidence in her stature—made you straighten up, and you put on your best perfectly casual acting face for moments when you don’t feel quite as casual as you should.

But it wasn’t just her appearance.

She’s kind. That was clear right away. Not performative or trying too hard. Just nice. And funny, in a dry way. Quick with the side comments. Self-aware. And slightly, slightly nervous around you, which you can’t lie—you like. It’s endearing.

There’s this quiet little tension between you now. A hum under the surface. Every time your knees brush on the subway bench, you feel it spike. She keeps glancing at your legs like she’s trying not to, like she doesn’t realize you’ve already caught her twice.

You don’t say anything. You just sit there and let it build.

The ride doesn’t last long. Your stop comes faster than expected, and Paige follows you off the train without a word.

It’s chilly outside. The city’s quieter than usual, but not silent. It never is. You walk a block to your building, Paige’s steps in rhythm with yours, and when you glance over at her under the streetlight, she looks down and gives you a half-smile. It makes your chest tighten a little. Like something you didn’t know was there is trying to make itself known.

Inside your building, you greet the doorman, who gives you a knowing look that you ignore. Paige nods politely. She’s got that people-pleaser charm—you can tell.

The elevator is slow. Old. You both step in and the doors close with a soft thunk.

You hit the button for your floor. Then, the air shifts.

There’s a pause—quiet but heavy. The kind of silence that makes you feel the other person. Paige stands just a little too close. Not aggressively. Just… aware. The distance between you isn’t quite respectful. Her arm brushes yours, and neither of you move away.

You stare straight ahead, but your eyes flick sideways every few seconds. She’s doing the same. You can feel it. Like heat. Like static. The air between your bodies buzzes like it’s waiting for permission to break.

The elevator dings.

Your floor.

You step out. She follows. And this time, she’s close enough that you feel the warmth of her breath as she exhales.

You swallow and walk to your door, unlocking it quickly, gingers a little clumsy on the key. Your heartbeat’s in your ears now. Loud.

The door swings open, and you step aside to let her in.

Paige walks in slow. She glances around, taking in the space—it’s nice. You know it is. Acting—well, it makes good money. And your apartment is a reflection of that.

You let her look around, setting your keys down and toeing your shoes off. When you glance back up, she’s watching you.

Neither of you says anything.

You walk over to her slowly.

And Paige—still looking at you like she’s not quite sure how this is real—just stands there, letting you close the space between you.

Your fingers find the hem of her flannel, gently.

“You wanna stay a while?” you ask, voice quiet, casual.

She nods.

And this time, it’s her who kisses you.

Its immediate. The fire. The heat. The way her mouth meets yours like it’s something she’s been dying to do all night—maybe longer. Her lips are warm, soft but urgent, and you can barely keep up with the way she kisses you, like she’s been holding herself back and now there’s no reason to anymore.

You make a sound against her mouth, half gasp, half laugh, and she responds with a low hum, hands already gripping your hips like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to the Earth.

Your fingers slide up to her shoulders, trying to steer, to hold, to anchor—but you’re barely steady yourself. The two of you stumble back a few steps, laughing breathlessly between kisses as she walks you toward the couch, bumping a wall, into the table, not even caring. Her hand is on your lower back, guiding you—no, pushing you—and you let her, let her press you into her, let her kiss you like she knows exactly what she wants and exactly where she wants it.

It’s messy. Hands moving with no direction, your bodies pressing into each other like you’ve already forgotten you’re in your own damn apartment. Her mouth moves from your lips to your neck for half a second and you feel your knees weaken a little. You bite your lip, grab her jaw, kiss her harder. It’s so much, too much—but not enough.

You gasp against her mouth, “Wait—bed,” and she pulls back, just a breath away, eyes wide and dark and already a little wild.

“Yeah,” she says, already reaching for your hand, letting you pull her because she’s not familiar with the space.

You thought maybe you’d end up… here. The couch. The floor. Whatever. But no—you make it to the bedroom, somehow. Still kissing, still giggling in these little gasps when you bump into furniture. Still fumbling. Still grabbing.

Once you’re there, you push her down onto the bed, your palms flat on her chest. She goes easily, grinning up at you as her back hits the mattress. She’s breathing hard. So are you.

You crawl into her lap, settling your thighs on either side of hers, letting her hands immediately go to your waist again—strong, sure now. Her fingers grip you tighter than before. She’s steadier. More confident. And it’s really fucking attractive.

You bend down and kiss her again, slower this time but just as deep, just as desperate. Her hands slide up your back, over your spine, under the hem of your dress, wandering. You don’t stop her. You don’t want to.

And God, the way she moves underneath you. The way she kisses you now—like she’s not nervous anymore. Like she’s got you, and she knows it.

Your lips trace down, slow and hungry, grazing her skin like you want to memorize every part of her. Her jaw. The curve of her throat. The warm spot just beneath her ear. You suck lightly at first, then a little harder when you feel her shift beneath you—when her grip tightens and her breath gets heavier.

She mutters something low and strained, a quiet “Christ,” that sends a pulse right through you.

Her hands slide under your tiny dress. You feel her fingers splay across the back of your thighs before moving your, gripping your ass in a way that’s both firm and reverent. Like she’s still shocked you’re even here, straddling her, touching her. You groan softly against her neck, sinking your teeth gently into her skin there before pulling back with a kiss.

Your focus shifts to her flannel. The sparkly thing that you think probably only she can pull off. You eye it, fingers fumbling a bit as you reach for the buttons. She doesn’t move to help you at first. Just keeps her hands right where they are, thumbs brushing slow, distracting circles as she watches you with this little smirk.

You finally get the last button undone and she shrugs it off, tossing it across the room. She’s left in a black Nike sports bra and cargos and somehow still looks like maybe the hottest person you’ve ever seen in your life—and, seriously, you’ve seen a lot of hot people.

Your hands run up her bare abs, firm beneath your palms, before she pulls you back down like she can’t go another second without your mouth on hers.

This kiss isn’t sweet or exploratory. It’s flat-out hungry. Like now she’s got permission to take her time and take her fill. Her hands are back on you again, sliding lower, gripping tighter, pulling you down into her until your whole body is flush with hers. You can feel the heat of her skin through the fabric between you, the tension that’s been simmering since the moment your eyes met hours ago now boiling over.

You grind into her without even thinking, and the way her breath stutters against your mouth makes your whole body buzz.

You chuckle, soft and breathless, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her lips are kiss-bitten, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Okay?” you whisper.

“Mm,” she hums before pulling you back into her quickly like she was offended you pulled away at all in the first place.

You respond immediately, tongue sliding against hers, teeth clashing. Her hands are everywhere. Your hips roll against hers instinctively, your breath catching every time her fingers dig into your skin or slide along your thighs. It’s hot and heavy and dizzying in the best way.

At some point, she pulls back just slightly, lips parted, gaze hungry. She looks down at the way your dress rides yo as you move against her and then back up at you like she’s barely holding it together.

“Can I take it off?” she asks, voice low, almost hoarse. Her hands pull at the fabric a little. “Needa see you.”

There’s this desperate kind of honesty in the way she says it that shoots straight through you. You not without even thinking, already helping her—grabbing at the hem of the dress, pulling it over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.

It lands somewhere near the door. Neither of you cares.

Now, you’re in nothing but your lacy black thong (thank God you decided to wear a sexy pair of underwear today, seriously), straddling her, skin flushed and warm and bare to her, and when Paige looks at you—really looks at you—she groans under her breath. Head falls back for a second like she needs to reset, eyes fluttering before they lock onto you again, darker than before, icy blue mixing with the black of her enlarged pupils.

“Shit,” she mutters, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs to your waist, then higher. “You’re—”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

She pulls you down to her again, but this time her mouth doesn’t go to your lips. Instead, she kisses across your chest, slow at first, open-mouthed and warm. Her rough palms hold you firm against her, fingers splaying along the swell of your ass as her lips move down. And then her mouth closes around one of your nipples, sucking—lightly at first, just enough to make you twitch in surprise—and then again, a little harder, her breath hot where it fans out.

You exhale shakily, fingers fumbling with her hair tie before undoing it, letting her ponytail fall loose. She looks up at you for just a second, grinning like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

And she keeps kissing across your chest and tits, mouth open and warm and purposeful. Her lips drag over the swell of you, her tongue flicking occasionally at your nipples like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you react. And you do react—your back arches, your hands tighten in her hair, and your hips roll forward against her without even thinking about it.

She hums in response, low and satisfied. The sound vibrates against your skin. Her fingers tighten at your waist, holding you in place, guiding your rhythm.

“Fuck,” she murmurs against you. “Don’t stop doin’ that.”

You don’t.

You move against her with a little more purpose, the friction sending a slow burn through your body. Her hands are hot and strong where they grip you, and her mouth doesn’t let up. She kisses over the curve of one of your tits, up to your collarbone, then back down, her breath shaky now too. She’s unraveling under you, even if she’s trying not to show it.

But you’re unraveling, too. Fast.

You let her mouth linger a little longer, let yourself feel every second of it—and then you’re tugging away from her, chest rising and falling a little too fast. Her eyes flick open, meeting yours, a silent question in them.

“I need…” you trail off, already reaching down.

She gets it. She shifts under you, lifting her hips as you start pulling at her cargo pants. She helps, fumbling a little in the rush to get them off, and her boxers come with—unintentional, but neither of you is complaining.

Paige leans up, kissing you again—a little slower now, a little more sensual. Tongues sliding and tangling languidly. There’s a kind of reverence in it now, like she’s savoring. You’re straddling her still, one knee braced beside her bare thigh, your chest still flushed and wet from her mouth, your breathing uneven. Her hands are at your hips, fingers flexing like she can’t decide whether to hold on tighter or let herself get lost in the feel of you completely.

Her fingers drift along, ghosting along the hem of your thong. She pauses, just barely.

“Can I?” she asks lowly. It’s respectful; you like that.

You nod, already leaning in. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Yeah, Paige.”

She kisses you once more—quick, urgent—before sliding her hands down, easing your underwear over your hips, your thighs. You lift just enough to help her, and she works them off completely, tossing them to join the growing pile of clothes somewhere on the floor.

And then she pulls you down again. Fully. Flush against her.

You gasp quietly at the contact, your bare cunt pressed to hers, the heat and slick between you unmistakable now.

Paige groans quietly, head dropping to your shoulder, arms wrapping tight around your waist as she holds you to her. Her hands splay wide across your lower back, like she needs to ground herself in the feeling of you there. Her lips brush against the curve of your neck, and you feel her smile just barely.

“Fuck, ma, you’re killin’ me here,” she mumbles into your skin.

You laugh, breathless. “Pretty sure you started it.”

Her hand drifts lower, palming your ass, her mouth now back on your jaw. “And I’mma finish it.”

Her words send a jolt through your stomach. And then she’s shifting beneath you, hips twitching up against yours, your slick clits bumping. Her palms guide you, moving you against her with slow, grinding pressure.

It’s instinct more than choreography. Your bodies find the rhythm together, messy and hot and overwhelming.

You let out a sound—something caught between a sigh and a moan—and she tightens her grip like she’s trying to draw more out of you. Her eyes are glazed over, locked on yours, and there’s a kind of quiet desperation in them that makes you grind down against her harder.

“Fuck, that—” you gasp a little as she shifts her angle, her pussy hitting yours just right. “Right there, Paige—”

She groans, pulling you down so your forehead is resting against hers, your lips brushing. You can feel her breath against your mouth, fast and shallow. You can hear the slick, vile sounds of your wetness against hers filling the room.

“Keep going,” she mumbles. “You feel so good, just—don’t stop.”

You nod, can’t even form a real answer, just roll your hips against her again, and again, chasing the way her body feels under yours, the way her mouth keeps finding your throat, your jaw, your shoulder. Her skin is slick with sweat, her hair dampening, sticking to her forehead.

You’re both panting heavily now, bodies moving in sync, heat building between you like it’s alive. The room spins a little around the edges, your heart pounding so loud it feels like the only thing you can hear besides Paige’s voice, the occasional moan, and the rustle of sheets.

She grips your waist and rocks up into you, and the pressure makes your vision blur.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Paige laughs under her breath, low and ragged. “Mm. I—I know.”

Everything begins to sharpen around you and you lean in, kissing Paige as hard as you can—teeth clashing, mouths open and desperate. Every roll of your hips, every sound that escapes either of your lips, every gasp and half-muttered name. Her hands hold you so tight you think she might leave bruises—you don’t care. Your cunts are warm and wet and swollen, sliding messily enough to get each other’s arousal on both of your thighs.

It builds fast. Hot and tight in your chest, in your stomach, in the way you’re grinding against her now—faster, harder, needing more, needing her. She’s right there with you, her mouth pressed to the side of your neck, her voice rough and muffled against your skin.

“God, you’re—” she chokes out, breath stuttering. “You feel—shit, I’mma—”

“Paige,” you mewl.

She nods, biting at your throat a little.

That’s all it takes.

Everything inside you snaps. White heat floods your senses and you fall into it, trembling and moaning against the blonde, your whole body shuddering as you come, pressed tight against her. Paige follows right after, hips stuttering, arms wrapped tight around your waist as she falls apart with you.

You collapse against her—completely boneless, your cheek pressed to the curve of her shoulder. Paige’s arms stay around you, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts against yours, skin slick with sweat.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You just breathe. Skin damp, thighs sticky. Hair in your face. Her heartbeat thudding loud under your ear.

Then she rolls, gently shifting you onto your back and settling between your legs again. Her body rests over yours, her nose nudging your jaw before she starts trailing wet kisses along your neck and shoulder.

You hum at the feeling, the pads of your fingers trailing down the side of her arm. “Feels good,” you murmur lazily, eyes half shut.

Paige chuckles against your skin, lips brushing just beneath your jaw. “Yeah?”

You nod slowly, watching as she lifts her head just enough to smirk at you, her eyes heavy-lidded and bright. Then, without breaking eye contact, her hand moves lower—slow, easy. You don’t even realize where it’s going until you feel it between your thighs, her fingers sliding between your slick folds, pressing lightly against your sensitive clit, confident and sure.

Your breath catches.

Paige leans up, her mouth just by your ear. “Can you gimme another?”

You blink at the ceiling for a second, trying to form a coherent thought. She was nervous before, you could tell, and now she’s so damn sure. You turn your head to see her. Her expression is intense—she looks almost like she would devour you if she could. Her fingers stay resting on your clit, unmoving with the slightest bit of pressure. The touch alone makes your skin feel like it’s buzzing.

You swallow. “Mhm. Yeah,” you stumble out.

Paige’s mouth curls into a grin, something between cocky and sweet. “Good girl.”

And then her fingers finally move. She circles your clit—once, twice, three times. Your thighs twitch some, still sensitive from before. Paige reaches down after that, sliding her middle finger inside you. She gives you a moment to adjust before adding a second digit in.

You try to keep it together—you really do—but the way her fingers move in and out, slow and certain, curling just when you need her to… she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her blue eyes flick between where her fingers thrust inside you, covered in your slick, and your face. Her lips are parted, chest rising and falling with the same shallow rhythm as yours. It’s hot in here. You’re sweating. You’re both still breathless, still recovering and already going again.

Your hand tightens your grip on Paige’s bicep as she moves her fingers just a little deeper, her wrist flexing with intention. Your hips twitch up in response, and you catch her smirk as she glances up at you—flushed cheeks, messy blonde hair, a cocky look in her eyes that should be illegal.

“Oh, my God,” you mumble, breath hitching.

She grins, biting her lip as her gaze stays locked on the way your cunt swallows her digits. It’s seems to do something to her because then—quietly, mostly to herself—she murmurs, “Fuck, I gotta taste you.”

You think your breath may stop entirely.

She shifts downward, pressing kisses across your stomach as she goes—soft, almost worshipping. Her fingers never stop moving, scissoring inside you, making it even harder for your lungs to function, and her mouth follows the trail of heat between your thighs.

Her tongue flicks out, swiping between your folds. You shudder at the feeling. Simultaneously, her fingers keep working you open, skilled, like she’s mapping out every reaction she gets. The combination of both is almost too much. You can’t help it—you grip at her hair, threading your fingers through the soft strands and tugging when she does something particularly good—which is often.

And she notices. Of course she does.

Paige hums against you, just enough vibration to make your thighs tremble. Then she glances up at you—barely, eyes hooded, teasing. “Don’t tap out on me yet, ma.”

Your eyes roll back at the nickname and the feeling of her fingers hitting that spongy spot inside you. You let out a breath that’s half a laugh, half a moan. “I—I’m not,” you say, trying to convince both her and yourself.

Her grin flashes, all pride and playfulness, before she dives back in—lips slick, tongue slow and focused. Her mouth wraps around your clit and sucks deliberately while her fingers curl inside you just right. You feel yourself fall deeper into it, into her, one hand pressing to the back of Paige’s head like you don’t want her to go anywhere.

You don’t. You really, really don’t.

She speeds up just a little, coaxing another sound from you, and your hips lift off the bed involuntarily. “God, I—”

That earns you another smirk against your skin, and she doesn’t stop. She’s locked in—and she’s not letting up until she gets everything she wants.

So, she keeps going.

Even when your hips stutter and your lungs stumble. Even when your hands slip from her hair to the pillow, fingers flexing and grasping at anything to hold you down. Even when you whimper something that barely sounds like her name.

Paige doesn’t stop.

Her mouth is certain, her tongue sliding through your folds, up and down across your clit. You feel like you’re melting into the mattress, boneless, trembling, completely at her mercy. Her fingers never lose rhythm, continuing their thrusts, and you vaguely wonder if her hand is cramping yet.

At one point, you hear her murmur something against your cunt, too muffled to catch.

“What?” you gasp, barely managing the word.

She lifts her head slightly, lips shining, and says, “Said you taste really fuckin’ good. Can’t get enough of you.”

And then her mouth is right back on you, her head shaking back and forth as her tongue follows the movement across your swollen clit. You make a sound that isn’t even close to human. It’s almost too much. The way she licks into you with purpose, the way her hand holds your thigh down like you might actually float away, the way her fingers keep coaxing more out of you like it’s her only mission.

“You’re—Paige, fuck, you’re…” You can’t even finish the thought. Can’t form words. Cant think straight. And she loves it. You can tell in the way she groans lowly into you, like you’re the best meal she’s ever had, like she’s the one getting off.

It’s so good. It’s too good.

Her fingers start pumping harder and faster, a white ring forming around them. Paige is unrelenting; she can probably tell that the coil deep in your belly is preparing to snap. She wraps her lips around your bud again, sucking and sucking and sucking.

“Paige—” you gasp, voice breaking. “I—shit—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she murmurs, low and husky against you. “C’mon, mama, I gotchu.”

She thrusts again. She lays her tongue flat, shaking it.

That does it.

Everything tightens, your whole body curling in on itself for one suspended second—before it all shatters. You cry out, hips stuttering, thighs shaking as the orgasm rips through you like a wave, overwhelming and all-consuming. You can’t even think. All you can do is feel. Her. Her mouth. Her fingers. Her voice.

She works you through it, gentle now, easing you down. Only when you’re twitching and completely spent does she finally pull away.

You’re panting. Drenched in sweat. Barely coherent.

And Paige looks… completely wrecked in the best way. Her lips are swollen and pink, her cheeks bright red, her fingers slick. She licks them slowly, not breaking eye contact, cleaning the cum off.

“Good Lord—taste unreal,” she mutters, voice rough. Then, she leans down, kissing the inside of your thigh before crawling back up your body, lazy and satisfied.

When she finally teaches your face, she’s grinning. She kisses you softly, almost sweetly now, brushing her nose against yours as she whispers, “Told you I needed that.”

You shake your head, smiling a little in disbelief, letting her peck your lips one more time before laying on you. Paige is warm and a little damp with sweat, her breathing now steady. You run your fingers lazily along the slope of her shoulder, and she hums a little at the touch, face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

For a while, it’s silent. You’re not sure if it’s too late or too early, only that the city outside your window sounds far away.

Paige traces circles on your side with thumb. Slow, soft. Barely there.

“Hey,” you say eventually, voice a little raspy.

“Mmm?”

You glance down, and she shifts just enough to look at you. Her eyes have gone a little sleepy—she looks pretty like this. You think she probably looks pretty all the time, though.

“So, like… Dallas, right?” you ask hesitantly, bringing up the WNBA draft on Monday.

She pauses, and you feel her thumb stop its movement. “I mean, yeah,” she says eventually, her voice quiet, almost careful. It’s not set in stone—but everyone knows. She’s going to Texas.

You nod, stare at the ceiling for a second. You’re not sure if you should say what you’re thinking. You just met her tonight. But… fuck, she was good. And she’s hot. And she’s nice. And she’s funny. And—what’s the harm? “I’m filming a movie there all summer.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then you glance down at her and you watch as she stares at you for a long moment before her lips begin to curl up in the softest, most dangerous smile.

And, oh yeah—you already know. You’re both so screwed.

[pbpressure]

capture | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fluff (reader sounds a little clingy but its cute), fingering (reader receiving), oral (paige receiving), some yearning, hair pulling, slight dom sub dynamics but nothing too serious. lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.3k (slight pwp, cmon act like you know me)

summary: paige and reader are out of the country but want to be inside each other LMAO

authors note: i don’t even know what to call this, i barely proofread it. i’ve honestly been having such a hard time writing but hopefully this suffices for now! munch madness i mean march madness is upon us hehe

enjoy! x

when paige told you that she booked you two a getaway for spring break you had no idea that it would be this luxurious.

the room alone was huge. windows covering an entire wall from ceiling to floor. most surfaces were covered in beautiful decor and the bed faced the humongous pool that sat just beyond the deck outside. it was perfect.

you couldn’t actually fuss about the cost or how hard it must’ve been to book because paige was quick to hush you with a kiss on your forehead and mutter how she’d always “do anything for you.”

the vacation honestly felt more like you both ran away. off of your phones for days, with the exception of checking in with family and taking numerous photos. although it wasn’t intentionally secretive that made it even more enjoyable.

the beach, which you had visited every day thus far due to its close proximity, was perfect. the area surrounding your villa nice and quiet as well. 

of course with the extra rest time that comes with a vacation you had encouraged paige to rest, that’s all you wanted for the both of you. but after the first two days you realized that even you could only nap so much. 

today after a little more exploring the amenities of your villa you did lay down together and close your eyes for a bit. when you open them again you don’t know how much time has passed, but paige was knocked out of course.

you had been awake for a good 20 minutes. in your defense you did try to close your eyes again but it was unsuccessful.

your body was draped over paige’s, one of her hands resting naturally on your thigh that was slung across her hips. her bicep flexed slightly as it was propping her head up on the pillow. you catch yourself silently chuckling when you realize you were just staring at her in awe.

it was all so domestic. from the sleeping position to the way that one of the only noises you could hear were little puffs of air from paige’s parted lips. if you could capture the feeling into one world it would be complete. or maybe absolute.

you’re aching at this point from craning your neck to gawk at paige and you honestly feel ridiculous for how long you’ve been laying like this.

with the urge to bask in the sun and swim a little you gently turn over, lifting paige’s arm from you. you slip out of bed, careful not to wake her and you quietly get changed and head outside. 

the wide window in the room gave her a clear view of the pool. hopefully she’d wake up, see you perched in a chair, and come join you.

her nap actually lasts way longer than you anticipated and you were getting antsy. you read your book until you couldn't anymore and switched your lying position too many times to count. it had already been about an hour and a half since you’d got up from the bed and paige was still asleep.

the sun was starting to set and you hoped she would get up soon, but alas the impatience was becoming a bit painful. 

you pick up your phone deciding to text paige and immediately open the camera. putting a slight pout in your lips you take a selfie, tits perky and in frame. then you flip the camera and angle your phone down to get your entire lower body and the pool in one picture. you take the photo, press send and quickly type up something to emphasize on the amount of notifications she’d get. 

*buzz* 1 attachment 

*buzz* p, can you nap faster? i’m…bored.

*buzz* 1 attachment 

of course paige was still on dnd so naturally you pressed the notify anyway button. sighing in contentment you decide to get up off your ass (hardly) and sit in the hot tub that was adjacent, waiting for your girlfriend.

your texts didn’t wake paige, she had already started tossing and turning a bit ago signaling the end of her nap.

however, when she did pick up the phone after realizing you were no longer lying beside her she felt her eyes go so wide that they could have bulged out of her head.

she looks at both the pictures you sent and exhales sharply, running a hand over her face in disbelief.

the blonde couldn’t help but glance outside, eyes instantly making contact with your bikini clad figure. she bit her lip as her eyes ran up and down your body.

your hair had gotten wet and began to cling to your chest and neck that was now glistening and catching a slight glow from the fluorescent lights in the hot tub. your lips were glossy, as always, and they were parted while you let out what looked like a sigh.

she lifts her phone from the bed swiping the camera icon at the bottom of the screen.

these photos were for her, but also to show you how good you really did look.

your head is slightly tilted to the side when she snaps the photo. you’re standing to adjust yourself so your hips come up to the surface of the water. she almost drools looking back at the way she had captured you before she presses the blue arrow in the text bar. 

getting up and changing out of her clothes and into her swimsuit she hurries outside. 

when you hear the sliding door your attention is on paige as she makes her way to the hot tub.

your eyes light up and you grin, pleased to see her awake. when you notice that she’s getting in the water, you have to force yourself not to stare.

her abdomen toned and flexing with each step she took. chest exposed and already showing a tan as a result of earlier time spent in the sun.

“so you missed me?” paige breaks the silence once she’s settled into the water across from you.

“don’t act shocked.” you scoff.

“oh, i’m not. it’s just…cute ‘s all.” she says, lifting her eyebrow a bit and stifling a giggle when she sees you roll your eyes.

“i sat out here for almost two hours while you slept, it got boring fast. plus i knew you’d want to watch the sunset so i hoped you’d wake up in time.”

paige’s heart swells at the confession. she had just been a threshold away from you asleep and still the only thing on your mind. it was never a secret between the two of you or to anyone else how obsessed you were with each other. but that didn’t mean it got old. 

“as great as it is to rest, i'm glad i woke up in time to catch the sunset,” paige starts. “and you in this…this bikini?”

“what do you mean? it is a bikini.” you contest, raising your own eyebrow now and anticipating how paige would admit that your bathing suit barely covering anything was causing her own skin to run hot.

her cheeks are beet red and she purses her lips together to stop herself from smiling like an idiot.

“you know exactly what i mean.” she mutters, voice suggestive. 

you do fully giggle this time, leaning your head back. when you’re done laughing you unintentionally press your entire body forward for a second when you rest your arms on the sides of the hot tub. 

you watch the blonde across from you lick her lips as her eyes travel straight to your tits, back up to your face, and then to your tits one last time before she opens her mouth once more.

“I loved the photos by the way. can’t say they compare to having you right here within my reach, but you look amazing.”

“thank you baby. wanna say it again and look me in the eyes this time?”

tonguing her cheek to hold in a laugh she shakes her head. partially because she was caught ogling and partially at how bratty you were being.

“i can show you better than i can tell you.”

“yeah?” you taunt, tilting your head.

“get over here.”

you practically pounce on her with how quickly you travel from your end of the water to her lap. she wastes no time grabbing your hips so you’re comfortably straddling her.

you let out a hiss when she presses your hips down, forcing you to sit on her completely. you had been riled up since she stepped outside, the friction on your clit from the material of your swim bottoms wasn’t helping.

paige brings a wet hand up to cradle your chin, turning your head to face her completely. she pulls you closer, not kissing you yet.

“you really are so gorgeous, you know that?” paige mutters, lips ghosting over yours.

“p, have you seen yourself? cmon now–“ 

“this isn’t about me, baby.” 

she stops you mid thought with a soft peck on the lips. although it’s feather light a smack sounds between you both at how quickly it happened.

you whine when she pulls back and you don’t miss how she smirks at your reaction.

“don’t be a brat.”

“okay, then kiss me.” you groan, bringing your arms above the water to wrap around her neck, closing the bit of distance that's between your lips.

it’s already warm in the water that’s ricocheting against the walls of the hot tub and your bodies, but the way that paige moans into your mouth when she kisses you back heats you up more.

for a while you’re just kissing like horny teenagers. it’s sloppy and wet and you pull away panting a little. 

you run your hands through paige’s hair and study her features before leaning in to kiss her again, stopping just barely before your lips meet. she closes her eyes in anticipation but opens them after she realizes you’re not gonna kiss her. 

“like i was saying,” you whisper, struggling to hold eye contact when you feel her breath hitch against your lips. 

“i could look at you all day.” you lean in, intending just to give her a peck like she did you earlier. but the moment your lips lock one of her hands is holding you by the back of the neck, it was firm but she knew you weren’t gonna pull away.

she parts your lips with her tongue and it’s your turn to moan into her mouth. you can’t help the grinding of your hips, rutting against her eager for your clit to make contact with part of her somehow. she takes note of this and takes her hand off of your neck, it disappears under the water quickly. 

she uses two fingers to push your bathing suit to the side, immediately pressing onto your clit. you pull back from the kiss to gasp, eyes heavy as you try to keep them open and on paige.

“just look? i mean, i’m flattered but there’s a lot that i’d rather do to you all day.” she trails off, now circling your clit with her fingers, watching your reaction intently.

“f-fuck, you know what i m-mean. i always want to look at you, kiss you, touch and feel you. i’m so in love with you baby. you’re so good to me.” you ramble, bucking your hips to signal that you wanted her fingers inside.

“yeah?” she was mocking you. “sure you’re not just saying that because you want something from me right now?” 

her voice was low and her eyes never left yours. hearing her say that while her hand was between your legs caused you to clench around nothing.

of course it wasn’t true, and you both knew it, before you could give her any attitude her middle and ring finger were thrusting into your cunt. 

“p, oh my god–“ you don’t even finish your sentence.

the ease in which the heel of her palm met your clit was almost embarrassing. it was like your pussy was made to take her fingers. 

your jaw goes slack, and you struggle to breathe out for a split second. since you were on top of her she was already prodding at the spongy spot you knew all too well, each thrust making you shudder and clench harder around her fingers.

“‘s so good, so deep!” you pant.

“i know pretty girl,” she pants, placing kisses your chest. her tongue is hot when it comes in contact with the same spots she pecked. she uses her free hand to move your hips until you get the idea and start riding her fingers, already close to your release from how long you'd waited to have her.

“keep it up, i can feel how close you are baby.” she says, voice muffled by the skin of your tits that she’s still burying her face in.

it doesn’t take long for your hips to begin to circle messily, your eyes are squeezed shut and your entire body is on fire. 

curling her fingers as they drilled into your hole, paige uses her thumb to fondle your clit. not letting up on her thrusts she leans forward to tongue your nipple through your bikini top and your head falls back as you let out a sound that mimics sob. you take in one sharp breath before letting out a moan that’s borderline pornographic. 

paige’s eyes are on you, watching your face and body contort with pleasure. her lips are parted, eyebrows furrowed, and she’s moaning occasionally too with the way your cunt was fluttering around her fingers. she was getting off on this just as much as you were.

“shit! p-please don’t stop, i’m so close.” you choke, hands gripping onto her shoulders like she had intentions to run away.

“you wanna cum for me?” she coos, once again in a mocking manner.

you attempt to nod but paige starts making a scissoring motion inside of you with her fingers and you’re already feeling static from head to toe. 

you do cum, literally into the palm of her hand. she can’t hide how badly she’s into this shit and you can feel her smiling against your skin as she kisses any part of you that her lips can reach, milking you through the rest of your high. 

when you’re starting to catch your breath you feel paige curl her fingers inside you again. 

choking on a mixture of a scream and a moan you have to reach down and hold her wrist to stop her from stimulating you more.

“p that’s enough, what about you?” you ask, already licking your lips at the thought of getting to have your way with her next.

“what about me?” she responds, placing another hot kiss on your neck and making zero effort to move from her current position: beneath you with her hand between your legs.

“i want to taste you. please?” you whisper the last part. it came out as more of a plea than you realized but you didn’t care. 

on wobbly legs you stand, pulling paige to her feet as well. 

she towers over you, bending down to kiss you again. you kiss back hungrily and place your hands on her hips and guide her to sit on the edge of the hot tub.

she parts her legs for you and you grip onto her thighs with gentle hands. looking up at her as you kneel and begin to pepper light kisses on her damp skin. her breathing gets harder the closer you get to where she wants to feel you the most.

“you were just begging to taste me, don’t tease me.” paige groans, placing a hand on the back of your head to guide you. 

you place an open mouthed kiss on her clit through her swim bottoms and she shudders at the feeling. using two fingers you pull them to the side and kiss the same spot, this time skin to skin.

paige gasps, the hand that was on the back of your head threading through your hair for a better grip. 

you lift your other hand and use two fingers to part her lips. as slow as you can manage you lick sloppily from her clit to her hole and your eyes roll back into your head when you feel her gush into your mouth. 

“fuck!” paige whines, throwing her head back. 

you relax your jaw and stick your tongue out again, shaking your head from side to side, intentionally making a little extra noise to add to the crudeness of the act.

paige’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as she pants, simultaneously trying to watching you pleasure her. when you both lock eyes you moan and take her clit between your lips sucking on it messily. 

this sends her into a frenzy. 

although paige was never afraid to be vocal with you, this was possibly the loudest she had ever been during oral. you’re gloating mentally as you start literally making out with her cunt. 

it’s lewd and you love it, clearly she does too. you feel her thighs start to close around your head and when you force them apart you watch her throw her head back and reach up to play with her nipples.

“you’re doing so good for me baby, it’s almost like you were made for this.” paige groans, pulling on your hair a little harder than she had intended, almost cumming from the moan you let out against her.

“i was made for you.” you pull back and pant before lowering your head again and thrusting your tongue into her, using your thumb to circle her clit.

paige is a babbling mess and you can feel her start to thrash around slightly.

“f-fuck! i’m almost there.” she manages to spit out, a yelp following as her thighs start to shake.

it doesn't take much more and as soon as you can hear her you can taste her. she cums, hot and immediately coating your lips and chin. 

paige’s back is arched as she tries to close her legs around your head. you’re pussy drunk and have no intentions of pulling back despite the way that she’s nearly sobbing every time you flick her aching clit with your tongue. 

one final harsh tug at your hair causes you to pull away from her breathing heavily and with a groan. instantly she’s pulling you to your feet and against her body. 

when you’re face to face you’re obsessed with how fucked out paige looks. her lips pink and puffy, eyes glossed over, and hair a mess.

when she pulls you in your lips make contact and you smirk into the kiss at the thought of her being so eager to taste herself.

after a few more sloppy languid kisses you drop your head to her shoulder and she leans forward,

submerging you both into the warm water once again.

“that was so sexy.” you mutter, voice hoarse. 

“you need to wear this bikini anytime we are near a body of water, for the rest of this trip.” paige says, causing a giggle to bubble in your chest that pressed against hers.

“whatever you say, p.” you reply, tone singsong like.

your back hits the wall of the other side of the hot tub and paige wraps your legs around her waist and stands again.

reaching behind you towards your towel and other belongings you grab your phone, thinking of how much you wanted to capture this moment.

when the screen lights up and you see the last text you received your mouth opens in shock and you can’t help the way that your cheeks rise. you're grinning like an idiot.

2 attachments

i need that.

“paige!” you say, looking up from behind your phone to catch her already smiling back at you, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

“i mean...i got it, didn’t i?”

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ anaktoria.

wnba!paige x nwsl!azzi. men & minors dni.

wc: 9.3k

synopsis: it is well known that one of paige bueckers’s love languages is acts of service. with azzi, it’s her only one.

cw: pwp, loser!p, perv!p, power play, power bottom!azzi, service top!paige, dom!a, sub!p, free use kink, degradation, crying during sex, obsessive behavior/devotion, brief mentions of religious imagery in sexual context, oral sex (a!receiving), subspace, praise kink, face sitting, breast play, use of sex toys, overstimulation, paige trying not to debase herself over her gf for almost 10k words, azzi being a manipulative little freak, mutual masturbation, exhibition kink, excessive use of pet names (ma, mami, baby), mutual obsession, begging, everybody is consenting i swear.

notes: an anon requested for me to write a pwp and i fear i got carried away. i also lowkey think this is so bad but we move. maybe not everything has to be my best work. i hope you all enjoy regardless and nonnie, i hope you're pleased. love you.

paige bueckers, as everyone else knew her, was lethal and unattached. 

a born legend, with a name known by millions and a low-slung way of moving through the world that only belonged to those who understood there was no other ending for them but to be the greatest. it often felt as though there had never been anyone more beloved. cameras adored her, the lenses so close they almost kissed her, wide and black and unblinking. 

strangers obsessed to the point of illness, and it was easy to. paige was a vision that became stuck in your head: blonde hair almost always kept low and slicked into a bun, a thin chain with a diamond-encrusted ‘a’ that no one asked about but everyone understood, that easy smile—rosy lips stretched thin across a straight flash of white—, a kindness that shied away from the impersonal. 

she was a necessary celebrity; a necessary brand of fame. she climbed the hills of ambassadorship, fashion houses rousing from their traditions to take advantage of her sharp jaw and court reign, paying absurd amounts to wrap themselves around the myth of her.

but that was public paige. cool paige. paige as iconography.

private paige was an entirely different animal.

it was often hard for the world to imagine her as shy, as someone who strove for the utmost privacy her drive would allow, despite her countless interview admissions of self-awareness.  in some ways, this relieved her.

yes, paige was someone who would duck out of coffee shops from the back way, the only note that she was there being the pale streak of skin as the light denim of her levi’s tumbled down the cut, jutting road of her hip bones. but she only wanted this version of herself dangled above one person’s soft, open palm.

the real paige bueckers, when faced with azzi fudd’s front door, always wiped her palms on her jeans three times before knocking. well, the entire process went as follows: 

paige first worked herself up in the uber there. 

her phone screen would shake anxiously in the cage of her hands, its screen cracked and smeared with fingerprints, the ghost of a text—i’m outside. can i see you?—typed and deleted twice. sometimes, she recorded a voice memo. she would even experience a slip of the tongue, calling azzi mami instead of by her name—her name, which paige spent her latest hours moaning soft and low and shaking. then she would feel entirely too revealed, flinching and backspacing the sound. 

paige—on any court, in any city, under any light—moved like she had a god inside her. but azzi was the only one who made her feel like what she truly was: a girl. young and wrecked by a crush. it was pathetic, really, how quickly it all collapsed. 

the minute azzi entered the frame, paige’s composure dropped like sweat. there were no handlers, no agents, no media training. there was no training that could eradicate paige’s obsession. there was only ever just her body: hungry, stupid, and aching to be of use.

paige bueckers had once stared down a packed arena and sunk a three from the half-court buzzer, but here, with a white paper coffee tray in lap and threatening to spill, she was a girl wrecked by need. 

brave for the world, but never for azzi.

it was only after all of this that she paced in front of azzi’s building like a dog too shy to bark, denim jacket stiff with nerves, palms swiping her jeans in triplicate—once, twice, three times—before she could knock.

even that felt performative. her breath fogged in the late afternoon air, and she clutched the two coffees, the tray ditched pathetically in an overflowing public trash can whose block paige would skip for the sake of sparing herself the embarrassment.

she hated that she could feel her socks in her shoes when she stood here, hated the way her pulse seemed to pool behind her knees. paige, who usually floated above it all, felt glued to the ground, too human, too hormonal.

she always told herself it was just delayed jetlag, which wouldn’t make sense even to the stupidest of people. her limbs always knew before her brain did.  that she was about to be humbled, made into something less than how she was by the slightest of hands.

paige had known new york would be a media risk. knew she couldn’t be in the city without someone clocking her at least once. but none of that mattered. she had to see her.

azzi had always been the axis her life spun around. even when they were apart, even when paige was running drills in another timezone, she thought about her with the frequency of prayer. azzi was her north star, yes, but she was also something more anatomical. paige felt like the woman had been stitched into her, each cell carved with the command to orbit her.

and so, she came. quietly. repeatedly. the widget on her phone tracked azzi’s match times. her off-seasons were timed to match flights to jfk. her lock screen was a brutalist schedule thinly veiled as productivity, but every countdown was just another way of measuring distance from azzi. 

when azzi had been drafted to gotham fc, paige had known it would be this way. that she would find a way to follow along as often as she could. 

now, standing outside her door, paige shifted her weight foot to foot like a kid on punishment. her heart knocked around behind her ribs. she could hear music faintly from the apartment, could smell that humid, human mix of soap and jasmine fabric softener that clung to doorframes when someone was no longer prisoner of the shower.

she closed her eyes, licking the dry plateau of her lips as she pictured the slick ripple of azzi’s tits and ass under soap. she felt her chest tighten, a pressure like heatstroke crawling through her cunt, making her head hazy.

and then the door opened.

azzi’s hair was still damp. dark curls heavy with moisture, clinging to her neck in a way that made paige swallow with an unfortunate amount of difficulty. it was an honest appearance, not styled. it had that particular weight of wet hair drying unevenly, some pieces beginning to lift and separate while others remained plastered against her skin. some bits were haloing wildly with frizz, creating an oddly intimate portrait of someone caught between a private and public moment.

it was obscene, the intimacy of it. paige hadn’t even stepped inside, hadn’t even been given permission. but already she was drowning in the curve of azzi’s damp neck, the shadow just below her jaw, the scent of warm skin under damp wool. she wanted to press her tongue to the salt, see if it still tasted like that summer in connecticut. she wanted to beg for that taste.

she could still hear the drone of those memories, the way azzi had cut a cross of lines down her back when paige had fucked her, both of them drunk and heavy. that way that azzi had twitched when she came, and the way paige had been so simple and stupid with her little ‘unh unh unh’ as she creamed over the pink of azzi’s pussy.

she’d remember it sometimes mid-practice, the phantom graze of azzi’s mouth under her ear like a glitch in her rhythm. the shape of her name when azzi moaned it wasn’t sharp, wasn’t even language really, just a warm, underwater sound that lived in the back of her throat.

how they had done it again and again and again. 

azzi wore a thick, oversized sweater in charcoal grey. cable-knit, paige noted automatically, eyes scanning the fabric like it could give her a map. the weave was intricate, shadow pooling into the valleys of each knit. it fell just low enough to torment her: mid-hip, sleeves shoved up carelessly to show the brown circles of azzi’s wrists, the neckline slipping in a way that threatened without delivering.

and then there was that strip of brown skin. a hot flash of a carved stomach. the soft hollow at her side. paige looked, and then looked again, until her gaze fell helplessly to azzi’s track pants. black and hugged close, pristine white stripes doubled and running the full length of each leg like twin lightning bolts. 

azzi fudd was someone who long mastered the art of appearing accidentally beautiful.

for a moment, it seemed azzi was planning on greeting her, on saying a simple hello that paige knew would sound raspy and low because azzi had been asleep only moments ago. instead, azzi chose to let paige look before she leaned forward, sliding her wrist forward so that paige could see both the chunky gold link of her charm bracelet and the sudden give of her sweater’s neckline into the naked space of azzi’s full chest. paige’s eyes caught hungrily on the dark brown discs of azzi’s areolas, the nipples pointed and still gleaming with water, shower-wet and straining.

she refocused on the jewelry, a piece she’d purchased for azzi on a trip to mallorca. every symbol that hung from its noose called back to paige. she’d made sure of it.

a tiny tennis racquet from the game they’d gone to together, the little cross for paige’s faith, the opal-studded heart because paige’s birthday was in october, the scale because she was a libra, the cowboy hat for dallas. 

paige could see that the link unclasped, azzi keeping the whole thing suspended by the clever placement of a long finger ‘round one side of the chain. paige’s stomach turned. she blinked, heart skittering like a trapped insect, suddenly aware of the coffee cups sweating between her fingers.

“fix it for me?” azzi asked.

her voice was too soft to be coined as cruel, but it didn’t need to be. it triggered paige regardless, jolted her into motion, scrambling to set the drinks down on the nearby entry table like they were unimportant, like she hadn’t been using them to ground herself.

she dragged the mouth of the clasp open with trembling fingers, jaw locked tight so her tongue wouldn’t betray her. slotted it in place, and took the liberty of spinning it around until the golden cursive ‘p’ sat gently against the fine hairs of her wrist.

azzi didn’t say thank you, only hummed as if she hadn’t expected anything less, pleased. like this was how things were meant to be. paige felt her stomach lurch and swirl, her tongue suddenly sticking behind her teeth. 

and paige, paige who the world thought couldn’t be decentered, stood there with a thick pulse in her throat and a shameful type of pride curling at the small of her back.

she would’ve kissed azzi’s wrist if she’d asked. would’ve dropped to the floor and let her rest a sneaker on her neck. but azzi didn’t. 

she just stepped back into the apartment, sweater hem lifting. it hit like a key of cocaine, the minute way azzi had made room for paige to come into her life. so, paige followed.

of course, she followed.

they were girlfriends. 

that was the word for it, though it felt flimsy in paige’s mouth, a paper napkin too thin and non-withstanding to handle what they did to each other. still, paige had azzi’s name saved in her phone with three pink beating heart emojis and absolutely zero capital letters. 

she had the passwords to azzi’s streaming apps, her face in the facial recognition of azzi’s ipad, and a toothbrush in the teal-and-brown spotted ceramic cup by the large marble sink. she was allowed to bring home groceries when she visited, was allowed to stay the night as many times as she felt necessary. 

paige liked to open azzi’s apps and pretend she was her. she’d scroll through the for you pages curated to azzi’s tastes—cooking videos, soccer highlights, ambient loops of rain falling as faceless people “opened their home for the season”, whatever the fuck that meant, “hidden gems” always tagged texas which made paige vibrate with a white-hot thrum of pleasure—and try to see the world through her eyes. sometimes she watched azzi’s old workout footage, volume so low it was almost gone, transforming the viewing into a secret transgression. 

sometimes paige clicked into azzi’s photos and over-indulged in the nudes azzi would send her later, that she would try not to fuck herself to, that she would pretend she hadn’t seen, despite azzi knowing that the opposite was true. she’d scroll past them with fake restraint, pretending it was accidental. like her fingers had only slipped. as if she didn’t already have them saved in a hidden folder named after azzi’s jersey number. 

35, under lock and key. 

sometimes she’d lie in bed and open them like an itch, not even to get off, just to look. just so she could remember that azzi let her have that, that azzi gave them so freely. that she could ask for more and probably get it.

the only thing keeping paige from begging was the thrill of trying not to.

she’d even open them in the middle of things. 

during class, between reps, mid-text to her mom. her fingers mostly seemed to move without her. her brain was split down the middle: one half pretending to be normal, the other dragging its heels back to azzi’s body like it owed her something. she’d blink down at the screen, azzi spread pretty and casual, soft tits kissed with flash, or that one where the hem of her boy shorts was bitten down low, the slow dip of brown skin leading to the promised land.

paige would see it and would forget whatever language she’d been using before. would lose track of the day, of the shape her name made in someone else’s mouth. she’d lock the phone like it burned. wait a full sixty seconds. then she’d open it again.

and sometimes. sometimes it was more innocent. sometimes she just let the screen idle on the login page, watching her girlfriend’s full name glow in the corner like it was hers too.

she was allowed to touch azzi when she was half-asleep and splayed haphazardly across paige’s own body. allowed, sometimes, to kiss her until she either deprived azzi’s brain of much oxygen or started rocking her hips until they knocked against azzi’s firm ones, breath catching as she began to grind. 

paige remembered all the times that azzi referred to her as her girlfriend, was desperate for that future where she went from girlfriend to wife. she remembered her favorites first, like the time azzi had told her, 

“you’re such a good girlfriend, baby. like a little lapdog.”

paige trailed behind her woman like a heat-seeking thing, the soft weight of her awe making her a little clumsy. she could feel the shadow of that hum, still vibrating off the walls, tucked in the low whir of azzi’s body as she moved through the apartment. it made her act stupid. like she was catching a cold from love. 

she’d follow azzi from room to room just to breathe in the remnants of her shampoo, to run her fingers along the doorframes azzi had touched. she wanted to be white noise, necessary but unburdening, a presence that made azzi feel lighter instead of bothered. 

her mouth ached with the effort of not saying it constantly: do you need anything? can i help? can i stay forever?

paige tried not to stare at the high seam of her panties where the sweater had risen and her sweats had ridden lower. tried and failed. 

god.

 it wasn’t even about sex. it was about being ruined by proximity. about how paige never stopped wanting to make herself useful. it was about the knowledge of them, how paige knew these were one of azzi’s favorite pairs, and how they rode low on her hips and high in the back until the navy lace was half hidden in the lush crack of her ass and let the fat spill out around it, brown and full. she knew what it was to pull azzi up, to drag her by the apex of them and bounce them on her cock until she cried, until her cunt grew tight and gummy and—

okay, maybe it was a little about sex. but not entirely.

azzi tossed her a glance over her shoulder like she’d heard the thought. 

“can you hang my coat?” she asked, lightly. no need for sweetness or that additional please. she had expectation braided into her voice like something already promised. because paige was a good girlfriend. a little lapdog.

paige nearly stumbled to acquiesce, sliding the damp jacket from where azzi had let it crumple to the floor lazily—maybe from a night out— and holding it gingerly as if it was precious cargo instead of just woven nylon meant to protect her from the rain. she hung it carefully, stupidly careful, like she didn’t want to wrinkle it. like azzi would notice and applaud, and care. 

because paige wanted her to.

she’d once ironed a pair of azzi’s sweatpants while she was in the shower, just because they were rumpled and paige didn’t like the idea of azzi slipping into anything that hadn’t been made perfect. when azzi came out and laughed—gently, indulgently—paige had flushed all over, wanting to disappear but also wanting more. she didn’t mind being laughed at. if azzi was laughing, it meant that she was still looking.

when she turned around, azzi was already in the kitchen, stretching up to the cupboard, her body a museum of soft curve and command. paige paused. watched her. couldn’t stop watching her. her girlfriend. her girlfriend. she mouthed the word like it was a spell, and she didn’t want it to ever fade away.

“you’re staring, paigey,” azzi said without looking, her voice a little slower now, a little lower. that teasing, ruinous patience.

paige’s ears went hot. “‘m sorry. am i not allowed?” then, she backtracked. “am i making you uncomfortable?”

“no, baby, you’re allowed,” azzi said, selecting a mug with two fingers, unbothered. “you’re just easy to read.”

“oh.” paige stepped forward on reflex. “sorry. can’t help it.”

azzi turned then, mug in hand, expression unreadable except for the small, amused lift at the corner of her mouth. paige stopped like a dog called to heel. there was a pause—brief, bloomed open—and then azzi crossed the floor and set the mug down, crowding paige just slightly, just enough to make her feel the hem of want kick up between her thighs.

“you don’t need to apologize, baby. i know,” azzi said, almost fond. “that’s what makes it fun.”

the worst part was how paige liked that too, the being seen. the way azzi peeled her open with nothing but a look. how she knew every angle of paige’s hunger and liked to press on it, not cruelly, but with a terrifying bit of clinical delight.

 paige would let her. would let her do anything. 

and they both knew it.

paige—paige who’d scored thirty last week, paige who was on magazine covers and blown up lifesize on some other sponsor’s highway billboard—always went pliant. that easy. that fast. her breath caught, and she tilted forward just a fraction, wanting to be closer, to please, to be good.

azzi didn’t touch her, but the air tightened, and she let the room tilt. paige felt it in her bloodstream: that ache to serve. that dizzy little panic she called love.

azzi watched her for five more seconds, then tilted her head, lips curved. “i watched your game, by the way. you lit it up.”

paige blinked, breath catching again. worse, somehow, than before. her heart thumped once, hard. “oh. you did?”

“mhm.” azzi’s smile was soft, a little smug. “caught the second half on the bus back from jersey. thirty points. that half-court pull-up? filthy.” she let the praise hang in the air like snow falling. “you looked so good.”

paige went a little pink, almost instantly. then she darkened, dipped red like she’d been caught doing something unfathomly inappropriate. her voice cracked as she tried to play it cool: “i  watched yours, too. the match on sunday. you—uh. you made that pk look…easy.”

azzi laughed, further pleased by the reminder of paige’s constant attention, and leaned in to kiss her. it was brief but affectionate, like paige had just proven something. 

“i know, baby,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over paige’s flushed cheek, then quickly over her bottom lip. “my girl never misses a second.”

paige grinned then, all perfect teeth and ease, and finally peeled herself off the doorframe. she stretched like she’d just woken up, long arms overhead, shirt rising a few casual inches to expose the hard ridges of her stomach. “yeah, i never do, huh. world’s best girlfriend”

azzi raised a brow, half-laughing. “oh, now she’s proud. but i’m serious, baby. you were just. wow. that run in the third? you were fucking electric, p.”

paige smiled so widely that her jaw cracked. a little tilt of the mouth that fell into something more unrestrained, a little cocky like she’d heard the compliment before, expected it even.

 “it’s what i do, mama,” she drawled, voice syruped with pride. “they couldn’t hold me.”

azzi leaned in again, pressing another kiss to her cheekbone. “no. they really couldn’t.”

that should’ve been the end of it, should’ve cut off with paige standing there all proud and full of herself. but azzi’s eyes dragged down her body, then back up with deliberate ease. she tucked her bottom lip underneath the ridges of her teeth before saying,

“bet you liked how short my shorts were, huh?”

“azzi fudd,” paige said, voice suddenly swinging high. “i am a woman of god.”

azzi laughed, hands at paige’s hips now, her body radiating heat behind her. “you’re a slut with a prayer habit. don’t lie.”

paige whimpered. whimpered. soft, involuntary, shameful. she tried to turn away, but azzi shredded her nails along the golden plane of paige’s lower stomach, which made her jolt in place. stay in place.

“i didn’t even see ‘em like that.”

azzi pouted, eyes wide and glossy with all of her faux-innocence. “you didn’t?”

“mm-mm. not like that,” paige repeated, a little helpless now.

“mmhmm.” paige felt a finger dip beneath the mouth of her jeans. “you sure?”

a pause. then: “okay, maybe a little like that,” paige mumbled. “but they were short as fuck, az. i mean, jesus. other people were probably looking.”

it was a terrible defense of her actions, but it also pissed her off as soon as the words left her. azzi snorted, aware of her girlfriend’s possessive temperament, but didn’t press further. only brushed her hand gently down paige’s side, before letting it drop.

“c’mon, ma,” paige said after a beat, voice steadier now, and tinged with something tender. “sit down, yeah?”

she reached for azzi’s waist, gentle this time, guiding her toward the kitchen bar stool without waiting for a yes. azzi let herself be led. she liked this part. paige in motion, all quiet care, every movement saying let me make you happy.

“did you run this morning?” paige asked, already turning to the fridge. her momentary swagger had melted into something quieter, devotional. she was comfortable now, which meant that azzi had done her job. she pulled out eggs, bread, spinach, humming low as she worked. “lemme feed you. you probably burned off whatever you ate.”

azzi didn’t answer right away. she just watched her girl—her cool, all-american, billboard-famous girl—move through her fort greene kitchen like she’d lived there all her life. the curve of her back as she leaned to grab olive oil, the way her hands knew exactly where azzi kept the pan, the way her voice stayed soft and coaxing like she was soothing some shy animal.

“you know what i ate,” she said eventually. “you know everything about me.”

paige’s movements stuttered slightly, and azzi hoped she wouldn’t apologize. the statement was nothing she wanted her girlfriend to be regretful about. it was the way the world was supposed to be.

“yeah,” paige said, flashing a small smile over her shoulder, “i guess i do.”

evening settled over brooklyn like a heavy blanket, purple languorously bleeding into black, and paige had made herself indispensable in all the ways that mattered. 

she'd restocked azzi's protein powder without being asked, organized the mail into unnecessary neat piles, and spent twenty minutes folding laundry with the kind of reverent attention most people reserved for caring for the sick.

now she sat cross-legged on the living room floor, laptop balanced on her thighs, pretending to review her game footage while really just watching azzi move through her nighttime routine. paige had changed already, slipped into an emerald green oversized ralph lauren men’s sleep shirt and the pair of boxers azzi kept in the same drawer for every one of her visits.

“hey, pretty girl, i'm gonna shower,” azzi announced, stretching her arms above her head in a way that made her sweater ride up, exposing that same strip of brown skin that had been torturing paige all day. 

“then i think,” she slurred her dark gaze all over paige’s limbs, full lips pressing upward, “it’ll be bed.”

paige's fingers stilled on the trackpad, her heart twisting and her pelvic bone warm. 

“okay,” she said, voice carefully neutral. “want me to—do you need anything?”

azzi paused in the doorway to her bedroom, head tilted. there was something in her expression that made paige's pulse kick up, a kind of knowing amusement that felt dangerous.

"i'm good, baby," she said, but didn't move. she stood there, scouring paige with those big eyes that seemed to see straight through her. “unless you want to help.”

the words hung in the air like a challenge. paige blinked, the computer suddenly feeling far too hot against her legs. "help with…?"

"whatever," azzi said, shrugging with the kind of casual indifference that made paige's stomach flip. "you always want to help."

then she disappeared into the bedroom, leaving paige sitting there with her heart hammering against her ribs and the distinct feeling that she was being tested. she waited exactly three minutes, counted them on her phone like some lovesick teenager, before closing the laptop and following.

the shower was already running when paige slipped into the bathroom. 

steam curled along the ceiling, dense and warm. the mirror was fully fogged, and through the frosted glass, she could see the ghostly silhouette of azzi’s body. arched, elegant. every once in a while, paige caught the flicker of her arm, the long line of her leg. she felt her mouth go wet.

she sat on the closed toilet like she had the night before a high school championship, hands clenched together, vibrating with an almost religious restraint.

"paige?" azzi's call for her echoed off the tile, voice slick with amusement. "are you sitting in there?"

"maybe," paige said, voice high. her cheeks flamed. "is that—um. weird?"

“it’s very weird,” azzi laughed, the sound silvery, delighted. “but i didn’t tell you to leave.”

paige's heart did something acrobatic in her chest. she pressed her palms against her face and tried to look anywhere but at the shower door. failed spectacularly.

"can you grab me a towel?" azzi asked, and paige was on her feet before the question was fully formed, moving to the linen closet with the kind of eager efficiency that would've embarrassed her if she had any dignity left.

she selected the softest one—egyptian cotton, baby-pink, the one azzi always reached for—and stood there holding it like an offering. the water shut off.

"ready?" azzi teased, and there was something in her tone so undoubtedly dangerous that it made paige's knees feel unsteady.

the shower door slid open.

azzi stepped out, body heavy, tits bouncing as her feet hit the ground, the action reverberating through her body like a lash of sound. water dripped from her hair, down the elegant line of her neck, over the roundness of her ass. droplets slid off the curve of one nipple. she didn't hurry to cover herself, didn't seem embarrassed in any way, confident in how beautiful she was and how beautiful the woman across from her found her. she was at ease, so naked and so perfect and completely unbothered by paige's obvious loss of thought.

“baby,” she murmured, gently course-correcting with one hand extended expectantly. “towel?”

her stomach flexed as she reached for the frame, and paige thought she might throw up or fall in love or die, right here, on the bath mat. paige shuffled forward on unsteady legs, moving like a sleepwalker, offering the towel with trembling fingers. their hands brushed as azzi took it, and paige’s knees nearly gave out.

she curled her hands around the emptiness, eyes squeezing shut as she felt her pussy throb with need. she was so wet, she was about to bust, she needed—

"thank you, baby," azzi said, wrapping the towel around herself with deliberate calculation. "you're always so helpful."

she said it like a compliment and a degradation rolled into one, and paige felt her face go hot all over again. it sounded a bit patronizing, like a mild pat on the head. a good. little. lapdog. paige’s whole face burned so viciously she almost thought there would be nothing left when she touched it, only bone.

"just want—" she stammered, "just want you to be comfortable."

she backed toward the door like a scolded dog.

"where are you going?" azzi asked, eyes still locked on her reflection, arms still trapped upward where she was toweling off her hair.

paige froze, eyes catching on the harsh glitter of her belly button piercing. "um, i thought—to give you privacy?"

"i didn't ask for privacy, paige," azzi said, eyes locked on paige now through the glass."i asked where you were going."

“nowhere,” paige said quickly. “’ m not going anywhere. i’m staying, promise.”

“good girl,” azzi said, and turned back to the mirror with a small smile that made paige's stomach flip. “i hate when you disappear on me.”

with a long sigh, azzi dragged the bulk of her hair into a messy knot atop her head and draped the towel over the lip of the tub. 

“c’mon,” she called over her shoulder and exited the bathroom. 

paige followed. of course, she followed. 

in the bedroom, azzi stood at the open dresser, the lamplight catching golden and sweet along the planes of her back, the smooth roundness of her ass. she didn’t say anything at first, just bent down to pull open the second drawer, which nearly took paige out. 

she felt rabid. she had to fist her hands into the sheets to keep from crawling forward on all fours.

she could see the bright pink of azzi’s cunt, her pussy lips squeezed tight until they were forced to split and reveal it. paige had forgotten (lie) how fucking lush azzi was, how fat her pussy was, and how swollen it could get when she needed paige to take care of it. and paige did take care of it; she took care of everything.

sometimes, azzi would be caught twisted and mangled by a wet dream, and before she could wake, paige had two fingers fucked into her and a mouth along her throat. azzi usually woke in the middle of cumming.

but she was here now, awake and alive and watching her soccer star girlfriend execute the selection of her nightwear with excruciating slowness, select a pair of the thinnest, brightest hot pink lace panties paige had ever seen.

then came the bra. a matching set. just two triangles of sheer lace, barely enough to frame azzi’s nipples, let alone cover them. she hooked the bra behind her back, adjusted the band, and turned to face paige fully.

"you like this one?" azzi asked, holding it up and turning her head to the side slightly, like she was modeling it.

paige couldn’t breathe. she literally couldn’t form sound. she was too focused on the obscene spill of azzi’s tits from the cups—if you even could call them that—of the garment, the fat pushed up and over because it was a size too small. on purpose.

“i think it’s cute,” azzi went on, slipping into the panties like it was nothing. like it wasn’t an act of violence, as if paige wasn’t trying hard to keep her hips from rocking forward from where she sat on the bed. “barely there, though. guess you’ll have to keep an eye on me.”

paige whimpered. out loud. it broke out of her like a sob.

azzi grinned. all teeth. slow. knowing. she wanted paige to beg.

and god, paige would beg. had. would again.

“you okay, baby?”

paige’s mouth opened, but all that came out was a shaky little, “you’re—you’re not fair.”

azzi crossed the room, barefoot and unhurried, until she stood right in front of her. she reached out, tilted paige’s chin up with two fingers, soft and sure.

“i’m not supposed to be fair,” she whispered. “besides, you like it better when i’m mean.”

paige’s eyes were a little too wide, glassy like she’d been caught somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. her cheeks burned a furious red, an avid flush spreading down her neck and settling heavy on her collarbones. 

she just—she couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

“az,” she started, voice cracking just a bit, “i… i’ve been thinking about something.” she bit her lip, hard, chewing on the words before she even let them out. “and i don’t—i don’t want you to think ‘m weird.”

azzi shifted closer, growing slightly more serious, her warm breath feathering over paige’s temple, hand sliding to rest gently on her knee. 

“hey, look at me,” she ordered softly, “whatever it is, it’s okay. you’re safe with me. you know you can have anything you want.”

paige blinked, tried to steady herself, but the dam inside her was wobbling like it was about to burst. she swallowed thickly, face scrunching up like she was on the verge of tears or laughter or both.

“no, az. i think i’m—” paige started, then stopped. something frantic was surfacing. her voice dropped, rough with confession. “azzi, i think i’m, like… really messed up about how bad i want you to use me.”

azzi didn’t move a muscle. her eyes locked in on paige’s face, on the bead of sweat forming at the temple she’d just kissed, at paige slipping, mouth soft, brow raised slightly like she was waiting. paige swallowed, tried again.

“i don’t mean, like, just a little.” her voice cracked, eyes darting toward azzi’s thighs, the curve of her hip, the thin neon pink fabric covering what paige needed. “i mean, i want to be your girl. like, your girl in the way where i don’t make a single decision unless you tell me to. i wanna earn it. every touch, every kiss. i wanna be so fucking good, azzi. so bad it hurts.”

she shifted closer, hands twitching at her sides. “i think about it all the time. you making me ask for it. taking your time just because you know i’ll get desperate. i think about you saying no, not yet, and me just taking it. just—just smiling through it. ‘cause i trust you. ‘cause i need you to want me like that.”

paige’s breath stuttered, and she laughed, high and on the line of something twisted; it was ugly and shaky and to the brim with something raw. “i've been acting all cool today like i wasn’t losing my shit watching you walk around in those tiny-ass shorts during your game. like, i wasn’t sick picturing you telling me to get on my knees instead of saying hi to me. you could tell me to sit in a corner and i’d thank you for it.”

“here, i’ll prove it.”

before azzi could say anything, paige shifted upward and shimmied her boxers off of her pale hips. hurriedly, she spread her legs and used two fingers to spread her pussy until it was finally allowed to drool obscenely all over azzi’s comforter. paige moaned, her pussy clenching as if out of her control, then looked up. her arousal dribbled down her inner thighs, and paige dropped her head back at the cool wetness, mouth parting as she zoned out for two light seconds.

azzi had never seen her like this: face so flushed, pupils wide, voice all over the scale of volume like she couldn’t decide how to keep herself calm, how to present herself.

“i wanna be yours,” paige confessed, voice cracking open at the edges. “not just in the normal way. in the way ‘m already allowed. i mean, whenever. however. i want you to use me. i want you to touch me just because you feel like it. i wanna be the thing you reach for when you're bored, or pissed, or just need something warm. i want you to act like i belong to you.”

she was trembling, shame and longing eating each other alive inside her. “it’s not just a sex thing. i mean, it's a big sex thing, but—” 

paige broke into a sob, body shaking. she covered her mouth with her hand, grasped something deep inside her, and pushed forward.

 “shit. shit! it’s—i feel safe when you do it. like i don’t have to perform. like i’m real, but only when you’re using me.”

her voice got stronger. “i mean it, az. anytime. not just when you think it’s okay, or when i ask. i want it—” her hands shook now, fingers curling tight around the skin of her thighs, the veins straining to split free from it. “i want you to just take me. because when you do, i feel right. i don’t have to be cool. i’m just me.”

a soft breath slipped free from her lips, a shaky little exhale. her body seemed to fold in on itself, like she was shrinking, trying to disappear all at once to make the confession easier. she leaned in, eyes glossy, searching azzi’s face like she needed permission.

acceptance.

nothing, then azzi’s smile emerged. it was slow, tender. victorious, paige realized. she cupped paige’s cheek, nails digging into and over the thin skin of her jaw.

“i know, baby,” azzi murmured at last. “i’ve always known. and it's alright. it’s more than alright. i’ve been waiting for you to finally say it, actually.”

“azzi—” paige started, but azzi hushed her and dragged her forward.

her eyes fell on the wet slit of her cunt, and she dragged a few fingers through it, pinched paige’s swollen clit. paige keened, eyes closing tightly, two tears sliding free like her body couldn’t be bothered to hold anything in anymore.

“it’s okay, baby. i’m gonna give you what you want. what i want.”

azzi ran her thumb over paige’s cheekbone, collecting one of the tears before sliding it into her mouth. she sucked it off her like it was dessert, flashes of pink tongue making paige’s cunt twitch once. then twice. paige kept watching, breath hitching, and then her legs shook, a tremble that started deep in the gut and rippled out, like her body was responding before she even knew the question it so deeply desired to answer.

“i said i’m gonna take care of you,” azzi said, mouth at her ear now, hand still sticky with paige’s slick. “but now that i think about it, you probably want to take care of me.”

paige made a sound, a wretched release between a gasp and a sob, nodding so eagerly that azzi placed a hand on her lower back to steady her through the following dizziness. she ducked forward, sucked a bruise into the white of paige’s neck before tugging her down by the hair. 

paige followed the motion, the pain giving her purpose. azzi smiled, unguarded but small, before sliding her panties down her legs. paige swallowed every inch of skin that was revealed, hands fisting until they were bloodless.

azzi’s thigh nudged paige’s shoulder. “lie back.”

paige obeyed instantly. no hesitation, no questions. she’d always felt that love was the last religion, the last unstolen land, the last law. azzi was what she loved, and so she ruled her. she scrambled to slide down the bed; this was what her body was built for. her chest rose fast and high, lips parted like a girl praying.

azzi swung herself up, straddling her face, the weight grounding. 

fuck. 

fuuck. 

paige had missed this.

azzi moved slowly, extending her power as she lowered herself with one knee on either side of paige’s head. the band of her bra was somehow twisted around her ribs. her curls were released from the cage of the bun she’d initially put them in, still wet at the ends, soaking paige by the minute. 

paige was vibrating. azzi hovered just a breath above. 

“you want it that bad, p?”

paige nodded wildly, mouth already open. “please. please let me—let me make you feel good. i’ll do anything. i wanna be good for you.”

azzi smiled, and it made paige ache behind the knees. “you are good for me.”

she leaned down, kissed paige until they were swapping spit. paige grasped her throat, holding her down. she wanted to have azzi just like this. this would be enough. anything concerning her girlfriend was enough to tide her over. she was an addict for her. 

azzi broke them apart.

“you’re always good for me, baby.”

then she sat.

paige groaned like she’d been hit by a wave, thighs jolting, hands gripping the backs of azzi’s legs with a strength that bordered on harm. she flattened her tongue, dragged it through the warm clutch of azzi’s pussy, sucking a little at a swollen fold before beginning again.

azzi gasped, a pretty, low sound that made paige moan, throaty and broken, against her clit.

“yeah,” azzi breathed. “just like that. don’t stop.”

and paige didn’t. she couldn’t. she lapped and sucked and whimpered like she was the one being touched, like she could come just from the taste. azzi’s thighs trembled around her ears. she rolled her hips just slightly, guiding the rhythm, and paige followed. devoted.

she licked a stripe up the length of azzi’s cunt, an unashamed groan clawing out of her chest. azzi moaned, high and heavy.

it was obscene. wet and gluttonous. paige’s mouth opened further like she was starving, like she was licking melted sugar off a hot spoon. her nose nuzzled into the base of her girlfriend, her tongue fucking slow and deep and hard. azzi’s thighs flexed as she rode harder, her hands clawing at the sheets, her face screwed tight in an expression that could have been grief.

paige moaned against her, loud and greedy. her tongue circled azzi’s engorged clit like it was something to worship, her teeth grazing it gently, just to entice. azzi gasped like she'd been shot.

"you taste so good. fuck," paige choked, pulling back to breathe, her lips shiny, her teeth slick. "you always taste so good."

and then paige spat on it, sloppy and hot, just to see azzi jump. her hands kept her open, two fingers spreading azzi’s ass with practiced ease, lapping lower until both holes were glistening and covered in the thick sheen of saliva, clenching desperately. she slid back up, nosing into the hot pink twitch of azzi’s cunt until the lower half of her face had a thin glaze all over.

azzi reached down, her chest heaving and fingertips brushing paige’s forehead, pushing strands of her hair back softly.

“god,” she murmured, “you’re so pathetic like this. just taking anything you can get.”

paige shuddered, a full-body quake, and nodded into azzi so hard, so urgent with her need to please that her knees snapped up. 

“but you’re mine. all mine. and you make me feel so good, baby. let me keep you like this. please.”

her pussy contracted, untouched, and she came. just like that. from the word alone. azzi had never said please before, and it was the hook that finally slit paige open.

her body jerked like a pulled puppet, her orgasm sharp and humiliating. she wasn’t even sure she’d breathed in the last minute, only that azzi had spoken, and she had obeyed, and that was enough.

azzi felt it. smiled wider. “you came from that?” she asked, teasing but not cruel. “just from me calling you pathetic?”

paige nodded against her, barely coherent. “mmmhmm. it felt—fuck, az, it felt so good. please—don’t stop talking. don’t stop—don’t stop touching me. i can take it.”

and azzi’s voice went soft again, a benediction:

“i know you can. that’s why you’re my girl. you need to be able to take it.”

and with that, she began rocking again.

paige groaned under her, hands sliding up azzi’s thighs like she was trying to memorize her. her fingers trembled at the swell of azzi’s hips. she was so full, so soft, the real thing. she couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop moving, couldn’t stop loving her. 

paige needed her mouth on her, yes, but she needed all of her. every inch. every curve. like azzi said, whatever the fuck she was allowed to have. no one really understood, but paige liked that the two of them spoke a language lost to everyone else. she wanted everyone else out.

azzi rolled her hips faster than she slowed, grinding into it, letting paige drown. her body was heavy and hot, plush in all the places paige wanted to live. her tits bounced slightly with the movement, full and perfect beneath that scrap of fabric she called a bra. one bright strap had slipped off her shoulder. paige let out a noise that wasn’t even human.

that was fine. underneath azzi, she was an animal, undiscovered.

azzi smiled. lazy. knowing.

“god, look at you,” she said, brushing her nails down paige’s cheek. they were almond-shaped, glossy, and pink. her index was decorated with a tiny rhinestone 'p'. paige took azzi’s hand, dragging it down between them until she understood, until azzi listened to her body’s silent plea and slid two fingers into her oversensitive pussy.

“so desperate.”

paige felt the intrusion like the latch of a collar. 

“i’m not even embarrassed,” paige gasped, pulling back slightly, eyes glossy. azzi’s pussy was smeared all over her little pink mouth like lip gloss. “you can’t make me embarrassed about it. i love you so much, baby. you’re so—fuck, you’re so. i don’t even have the words. i know ‘m gonna sound like a fucking pervert, but. your tits. your thighs. your whole fucking body. i can’t—”

she groaned, hands coming up to cup azzi’s breasts, clumsy but well-intentioned. she groped them, squeezed harshly until she felt azzi shift with satisfaction like she always did.

“you’re everything.”

azzi leaned down, bringing her chest closer, letting paige get a mouthful through the too-small lace.

“is that what you need, baby?” she murmured. her breath was warm. she smelled like fig and violet and amber and sex.  she smelled like every memory paige fixated on when she couldn’t catch a flight, when she missed azzi so badly that she sobbed herself into a headache only reduced by a pill-induced web of sleep. “you need my tits in your face while i ride you?”

paige nodded, nearly sobbing, borderline incoherent. “yeah. yeah. need them in my mouth, i—you don’t understand, az. i’d die for you. i’d stop breathing if you told me to. god, you’re everything i've ever wanted since i knew what it meant to want something.”

azzi shifted forward, letting her weight settle deeper into paige’s mouth. “i’m never going to keep myself from you. you’re the only one for me, now and forever. and i think you know that.”

and paige did. her hands gripped azzi’s ass now, kneading, spreading. her mouth was soaked, her face flushed. she groaned against her clit, trembling with the need to please. she didn’t want to cum again. she just wanted to make azzi feel good. wanted to make her feel worshipped. needed her to know just how loved she was, how divine, how much paige was hers and vice versa.

azzi looked down at her, hair falling forward, lips slightly parted.

“good girl,” she whispered. “my good, pathetic little bitch of a girl.”

and paige moaned again. eyes fluttering, thighs clenching, gone.

when she blinked back into consciousness, her cheeks were wet with it. azzi’s slick still shone across her mouth, her chin, the line of her throat. she was breathless, ruined, her hands spasming against the sheets, fingers half-curled like even outside of herself she would still cling to the landmark of azzi’s body.

above her, azzi shifted, the slow slide of her hips lifting from paige’s face. she was careful, hesitant, still panting, her whole body glowing with the aftershock of her own completion. paige was suddenly irate that she missed it, that she went somewhere loose and warm and didn’t get to see the familiar image of azzi with her back snapped into a far arch. but she’d felt it.

paige felt the hunt of azzi’s pussy for stimulation. she could feel the creamy mess of it now, ‘cause azzi was still rubbing all over her, self-awareness unable to set in during the midst of her high. paige didn’t care; just let her tongue loll out. 

she felt so fucking good. 

azzi slid herself down so that she could lean down, body sex-heavy and slow, pressing her lips to paige’s forehead, her hand cupping her jaw. the adjustment of her position dragged her inflamed pussy over paige's pink, pert nipples. her cunt was warm and sloppy over paige’s tits, and paige couldn’t help the moan that left her. azzi’s thumb stroked through the mess around her mouth.

“think you can give me another one?” azzi whispered. voice deep and saccharine, but still charged with a fever. still riding the edge of what she wanted.

paige blinked, her eyes blue and glassy like the sky reflected onto ocean, pupils blown, lashes stuck together, golden with sweat. her mouth parted like she meant to answer, but nothing came out. only a soft, broken exhale could force itself through.

then, barely audible but unhurried, 

“dunno.” her lips twitched. a ghost of an easy smile. “you can try, though. do whatever you want w’me.”

azzi laughed, but it wasn’t smug or demeaning. this was the way she got whenever paige gave in, which was constantly. she kissed paige’s collarbone and reached over for the drawer beside the bed.

when she came back, the toy was already in her hand. it was cool, clear, and curved. double-sided. new, but already captured in one of the nudes she hadn’t sent paige yet. she held it up, allowing paige to see it as though it were her first time. 

even now, she found time to ask again: “are you sure, baby?”

paige nodded. then she breathed out, “please.”

azzi didn’t rush. it wasn’t as if paige was going anywhere else. she wouldn’t dare. besides, she had sworn earlier that she was azzi’s to use. 

azzi propped paige’s legs up, kissing the inside of her thighs, nipping at the thinnest part of the skin until paige jerked awkwardly. she moved with a stilted calm, and paige realized: this was what azzi looked like when she was trying to stay in control. everything was careful: the slicking of her fingers, how she worked them in slow, testing.

paige arched into it, already drooling. desperate, delirious, and so grateful. 

so complacent. 

offering herself up without question.

“tell me if anything hurts,” azzi murmured. she slid the toy in gently, steadily, and slowly, pressing the other side into herself. a long, shared breath. a moment of stillness.

then she moved, and paige’s world went to white.

sedative strokes at first, the rhythm quiet and deep, more intimate than urgent. paige moaned, the sound echoing off to the side of her, where she felt her mind was, open-mouthed, half-asleep with how full she felt. her hands reached for azzi but missed, falling back uselessly against the sheets. 

she was gone, floating, her whole body shivering around the stretch.

azzi fucked her like she loved her. really loved her, which paige had always known, but was happy to be reminded of now. she couldn’t get enough of the way paige trembled underneath her, chest heaving as she panted in exertion. her hips rolled forward, slick and steady, knocking against paige’s, and she watched as her girl’s mouth fell open, her back arching, the shape of her bending into another well-earned orgasm.

azzi held her gaze when she started to shake against her again. 

“that’s it,” she whispered, “let it happen, pretty girl. you’re doing so well. letting me use you, right, baby? just like you wanted. letting me fuck you ‘til i’m ready to be done.”

paige whined. tried to say something, failed. azzi’s hand curled around her hip, the other braced above her, and she ground down harder, chasing her release. their bodies met over and over, soaked and shameless, azzi’s chest flushed, that rhinestone “p” glinting on her index nail as she reached down between them and rubbed slow, tight circles against her large clit.

the bubble broke like fever.

azzi came with a gasp, her thighs shaking, her breath ragged against paige’s skin. and paige—barely conscious, gasping, body clenching—came again beneath her, wrecked and unseeing, tears slipping sideways into her hairline.

everything emptied. the room was a sphere of silence.

azzi’s weight sank into her. their skin was sticky, twins, hearts thudding, pumping blood out and around in sync. paige could only find the slide of azzi’s hand to focus on, eyes drifting as she felt her cup her cheek again, stroke the hollow of her throat. murmur soft, mindless things against her collarbone.

eventually, azzi eased off. the loss was unbearable despite the way she kissed the inside of paige’s wrist. next, her lips touched down on the space just above paige's heart. paige wormed a hand in azzi’s curls, kept her there for a few extra seconds before allowing azzi to leave her again.

why was she leaving?

paige was unaware of her tears until azzi came back from tucking the toy away with a soft coo, her palms warm and smooth against paige’s stomach. she’d only gone to grab a towel and began wiping them both clean in gentle motions.

but it didn’t feel like enough.

so azzi scooped her up, limp and blinking, still floating, and carried her to the bathroom. she set her on the edge of the tub, urged the faucet to begin leaking until it poured itself out steadily, filling the basin with warm water.

she lowered paige into the bath. kneeled behind her. washed her hair with slow, unconcerned fingers, careful not to tug. every detangle was a love letter. every press of her hand was a return of worship.

“you were perfect, p,” azzi whispered, forehead resting against paige’s damp shoulder. “you were perfect.”

paige hummed, letting her know she heard her even though she kept her eyes closed. she relaxed, allowing her head to tumble back further into azzi’s hands.

for a long while, neither of them spoke. there was only the sound of water, the sound of purification, the throb of something eternal.

paige thought of her father, of how he teased her relentlessly, claimed that she loved to be at azzi’s for long periods because it felt like a fantasy. she only ever shrugged because—well.

he hadn’t been wrong. 

she saw azzi every night in that dark lake behind her eyelids. when she couldn’t get to the real thing.

in new york, in this apartment, she had more than just the vision. 

here, the dream was never over.

© hcneymooners.

[foreingersgod]

this…can’t be real wtf 😭

[luvergirl-535]

meet cute, but, like, wayyy worse

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 8.3k

c/w - smut (iktr), paige is a loser in the streets and a freak in the sheets (lol), lwk alcoholism sigh

a/n - writing this made me realize i’ve literally forgotten how to write smut 😔 bc why’d i keep trying to make it funny. i’m actually a little concerned that ive been doing too much unserious stuff i won’t be able to go back to normal writing anymore lmao maybe i’m the problem…

paige has had an absolute shitshow of a night. actually, scratch that—the entire year has been a shitshow. maybe even the past two years. she doesn’t like to dwell on it.

she hates the way her friends look at her these days, with cautious smiles and sympathetic eyes, like all they ever do anymore is feel bad for her. she hates the way they speak to her when she starts drinking, like she’s an unpredictable, wild thing. like they’re afraid of what she’s doing to herself.

honestly, she’s fine. they just don’t get it. the fame, the work, it’s a lot. she’s in shape. her basketball has never been better. she’s bringing girls home every night.

it’s not like she’s addicted to coke or anything. since when is it a crime to need a few beers every now and then?

(it’s every night. and some mornings, too.)

(she finds herself forgetting—birthdays, anniversaries, names—more than ever.)

(she used to fucking hate alcohol.)

(she is a little afraid of herself, too.)

anyway.

the cruise has been fun. a team-bonding experience, meant to build their chemistry off the court, to take their minds off the upcoming season for a little while. a week of relaxation. a week to destress. for paige, it’s been hard. she cannot justify sneaking off to day drink to her teammates, and they’ve been steering her clear of alcohol like their lives depend on it. she only gets to drink at night, after the rest of the girls have gotten too drunk to care about what she does. the rest of the time, she’s forced to be painfully sober.

it all goes from ‘difficult’ to ‘burning gates of hell’ when she throws up on the love of her life—who does not know she’s the love of paige’s life—azzi fudd. an angel on earth, the most beautiful girl paige has ever seen. like, better than zendaya. for real.

after that, she wants nothing more than to jump off ship and be lost at sea forever. when kk offers to take azzi back to paige’s room, she swears she could kill her.

and then, almost consecutively: her stupid little crush is exposed, she’s forced to cut a dress off azzi’s body, and then—this.

her first thought, after the phone call, is mental image of her fist pumping, because, duh. and then comes the, oh my god, i get to fuck azzi fudd, followed by a brief moment of panic, followed then by the realization that of course she is not going to fuck azzi tonight. or ever.

she is both relieved and disappointed by this knowledge.

“i’m…” azzi says, staring at her phone as if she could magically make chad call her back again. paige expects something, like maybe an explanation on why the fuck she’s telling her ex-boyfriend they are going to fuck tonight, but instead, azzi just tosses the phone onto the bed as if she’s been burned and says, “i’m going to change.”

paige has half a mind to leap in front of the door and barricade azzi in the room with her until she gets an explanation. she doesn’t, because she can barely act like a normal person around azzi, let alone confront her like that.

azzi disappears into the restroom. paige sits. and waits—not so patiently.

she pulls at a fray in the comforter until it comes loose. taps her foot against the bedframe. thinks about how azzi’s voice changed on the call—quieter, but not exactly embarrassed. maybe satisfied? there was something in it that didn’t sound like regret. that’s the part that’s screwing with her the most.

she gets up from the bed to pace, the back-and-forth a feeble attempt at wrapping her mind around what just happened. when that doesn’t work, she drops to the floor and does some sit-ups, because when she was a kid her dad told her if she let the anxiety build in her body she’d explode and that the only way to get rid of it was to do sit-ups. he’s a bitch for that, but she’s also spent a lifetime with nice abs, so she can’t really be too mad. but not even the magical sit-ups really work, so she does the last thing she can think of:

she pounds on the bathroom door.

“jesus!” azzi’s voice is high-pitched, nervous. “you tryna knock the door down?”

“uh, no,” paige says, a little unsure of what she’s going to say now that she’s here. “you’ve just been in there for awhile so…”

“don’t worry about it.”

oh, she’s worried. though not particularly about azzi. “can you just come out?”

“why?”

at this point, azzi is just playing in her face. because what does she mean, ‘why?’. is it not a normal thing to come out of the bathroom once you’re done?

the most alarming thing about all this is that paige has yet to question her undying crush, even as azzi is turning out to be a possible psycho. actually, even worse—it might be turning paige on?

now she is doubly worried. perhaps she should focus on one thing at a time.

paige’s silence must have stretched long enough to spark concern, because azzi speaks again, a hesitant, “paige?”

paige sighs, a hand on her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose, a pose she might have adopted from her coach. “you know you owe me an explanation, azzi.”

another sigh, as equally annoyed as paige’s, from the other side of the door. and then, its opening, and azzi’s standing there in paige’s clothes, looking altogether too soft and sweet for the diabolical things she did ten minutes prior. “i know, i just…i don’t really have one.”

paige’s eyes flick down azzi’s body without permission. the loose uconn t-shirt hangs too long on her—paige knows that shirt, it’s the one she used to let her ex borrow. something about azzi in it makes her stomach twist. not in a bad way. in the worst possible way.

paige steps back, allowing azzi back into the bedroom. “you mean you don’t have an explanation for telling your boyfriend we’d…” paige isn’t usually shy about sex, she’s a grown adult, for god’s sake, but this is azzi fudd and she can’t really find her words in normal conversation, and certainly not this one, “you know…” she trails off awkwardly.

azzi bites her lip, half-sheepish, half-trying to charm her way out of it. and, yeah, maybe it’s working a little.

paige realizes with a little bit of a start that she’s staring at azzi’s lips. she glances up and away quickly, turning around to give herself something to do before motioning to the phone on the bed. “you should…call him back.”

“hell no,” azzi sneers.

“well it’s either that or we fuck,” paige retorts before she can think. she’s glad she’s faced away so azzi can’t see the way blood flushes her cheeks.

azzi’s silent for a moment. long enough that paige almost turns around, but then she speaks. “maybe there’s another option,” she says.

paige senses trouble.

❀❀❀

kk’s jaw is on the floor.

she looks between a guilty-looking azzi and a tomato-red paige before letting out a shocked laugh. “now why would you tell him that?”

kk asking all the most important questions.

“it was the first thing that came to mind!” azzi says, voice high and defensive. paige can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“why, though?” kk asks, a small, suspect grin spreading over her face.

azzi gives her a look, something that clearly says cut it out, and paige doesn’t doubt that kk spilled all the beans about her crush to azzi earlier.

“uh-huh,” kk responds, making a small ‘mcht’ sound.

azzi gives that warning look again. “shut up, kk.”

“that isn’t even the main thing,” paige points out, jumping between their tense interaction. “what we came to tell you is azzi had an idea.” an outlandish, admittedly odd one, but an idea nonetheless.

“an idea,” kk repeats.

azzi nods. she’s hesitant, clearly, but paige has already assured her kk will be on board. she’ll laugh in their faces first, sure, but then she will help them go through with azzi’s little…plan.

“okay,” she says doubtfully. “tell me this lil’ idea.”

azzi glances nervously at paige. “well, i can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right,” she explains.

kk nods. “obviously.”

“and i can’t go back to my room tonight.”

“okay…”

“so i’m going to stay here,” she continues, taking a deep breath as in gathering courage for the teasing about to come. “and i’m going to take…suggestive pictures with paige, in paige’s bed. and we’re just hoping you can help.”

before azzi’s finished, kk’s eyebrows have already raised to her hairline. she lets out a half-shocked, half-ifuckingknewit scoff. it’s enough to have paige jumping in to try and make it look better. “her boyfriend’s really an ass, kk, like, she needs to get him back.”

azzi nods. “paige heard him on the phone. she knows.”

“i know,” paige agrees.

kk looks between the two of them, both so earnest and oh-so oblivious, and just laughs. “i believe you. oh, i believe you.”

“so are you going to help us?” azzi asks.

“help with what, exactly? do i need to ref? do i need to make sure it stays pg in there?”

paige immediately blushes, squeaking an awkward “what? no!” before azzi can even react. when azzi does react, it’s a much more nonchalant, normal person answer: “don’t be weird, kk. answer the question.”

kk gives paige a pointed look. “for the record, this is stupud. y’all are stupid. and i don’t condone such behavior.”

“oh, shut up, kk,” paige says.

“but i will help,” kk finishes, getting up from her kitchen stool. “i’ll make sure y’all look as, what’d you say? suggestive, as possible,” she grins.

azzi, bravely, doesn’t so much as redden. “cool. thanks.”

“what friends are for,” kk replies easily. she walks toward them, slinging an arm around both their shoulders and pulling their heads close. “and after tonight, we are definitely friends,” she tells azzi.

“except on the court,” azzi points out.

“unless you come to uconn.”

“you tryna recruit me? to a team that always loses against us?” azzi laughs, pushing away. “you’re funny.”

“trust, we wouldn’t lose with you on our team,” kk says.

paige rolls her eyes. “can we just get this over with?”

“aight, cranky pants. let’s get it.” kk motions toward the bedroom. “go start taking y’all’s clothes off. i’ll get the camera ready.”

“oh, brother,” azzi sighs, at the same time paige mutters, “worst fuckin’ idea,” under her breath.

❀❀❀

azzi looks—fucked out, to be perfectly honest. more specifically, like a scene straight from one of paige’s many azzi-centered wet dreams. not that she has azzi-centered wet dreams or anything. but if she did, like hypothetically, azzi would look exactly like this.

lips plumped with oil. braids pulled back messily. mascara re-applied and then carefully smeared. she studies herself in the mirror as she adds the final touch: a dark bruise above her collarbone, created with deft fingers and dark blush courtesy of kk. paige sits on the toilet seat, watching azzi work. she’s been staring for the past thirty minutes. azzi has yet to notice. kk, on the other hand, has spent the entire time sending her not-so-subtle signals, such as disguising a ‘talktoher’ with a cough, and whispering ‘go offer to do that for her,’ when azzi started applying the hickeys.

paige has not taken this advice. she’s still a little tipsy and azzi looks too enticing and she’s awkward enough that she’d much rather observe than try to interact at the moment.

before azzi finishes applying the final fake hickey, kk is fiddling with angles, mumbling about “golden hour lighting” even though they’re inside and it’s past midnight. paige’s gaze is caught in the mirror—not on herself, but the reflection of azzi in front of her. she imagines reaching over. just touching azzi’s wrist. she doesn’t. she clenches her hands together in her lap instead.

“you know,” azzi says idly, still dabbing at her collarbone, “you’re not nervous enough.”

paige blinks. “about what?”

“pretending to fuck me. in pictures. that we’re going to send to a real person.” azzi’s voice is light, teasing, but there’s something layered beneath it.

“what, you want me to panic?”

“a little. would make me feel better.”

paige laughs—quiet and dry. “i’m panicking plenty. just…internally.”

“uh-huh.” azzi licks her thumb before dabbing at her neck, turning her chin this way and that in the mirror. “do i look good?”

“you look bad,” kk says, nodding appreciatively. “as hell.”

azzi smiles a little shyly. “thanks.”

paige knows it’s stupid, but a pang of jealously hits her. she wishes she had kk’s natural instinct to flirt with girls. and it’s true paige has this instinct sometimes, but with a girl she really likes? with azzi fucking fudd? it’s best for everyone if she just keeps quiet and lets kk charm her instead. after this whole thing, she’ll go back to her indulgent bedtime fantasies of she and azzi in domestic situations and wet dreams.

“okay,” azzi says, pulling her phone out of her pocket and snapping a quick selfie in the mirror before turning to the two of them. “we ready?”

“i been practicing my photography skills,” kk says (she got a new camera app last week and has been taking candid, objectively bad photos of the team ever since). “never been readier.”

“don’t think that’s a word,” azzi points out, then looks at paige. “paige?”

“yup,” paige says, slapping her thighs before standing up in an attempt to get rid of the chalant written all over her face right now. “super ready.”

“now why you sound all excited to cozy up in bed with fudd?” kk quips. paige gets warm all over, glancing furtively at azzi to see her reaction—seriously, kk’s going to make azzi think paige is weird or something—but she just gives a little laugh before leading the way into the bedroom. “okay, let’s do this then.”

paige is maybe beginning to reconsider the this in question—their great plan. nothing’s even been done yet, for god’s sakes, with phase one—making azzi look as fucked out as possible—barely being finished. yet still paige is already uncomfortably damp between her legs: hence, the reconsidering. but, lord save her, azzi is already crawling into paige’s bed much too seductively, and it would look downright suspicious of her to pussy out now. no, she’s going to go through with this faux-sex photoshoot like a man, goddamit.

“get in there, twin,” kk says, pulling her phone out from her back pocket.

paige gingerly sits on the edge of the bed while azzi lays back, propped up on her elbows as they watch kk navigate around the device. “you know,” azzi says, “i wasn’t thinking you’d actually take the pictures for us. i thought you’d just, like, tell us what looks good.”

paige is a little surprised to hear this, and at the offended expression on kk’s face, she panics—her friend has a liking for dramatic storm-outs, and paige cannot have her leaving right now. “but this works too,” she jumps in, shooting azzi a warning look. “right?”

azzi places her palms upright, surrendering. “i mean, yeah, i guess. i was just sayin’.”

“well i ain’t here to be a third opinion or nothing,” kk says haughtily.

“you’re not,” paige says quickly. “you’re our creative director.”

“yeah,” azzi adds, already settling deeper into the pillows like this is just another thursday night. “we trust your vision.”

kk narrows her eyes at them like she’s sniffing out sarcasm, but apparently decides she accepts it. “creative director,” she repeats, pleased. “i like that. okay. azzi, scoot a little more to the left. paige, behind her. lean in like you just got done doing something y’all shouldn’t have been doing.”

“we haven’t even started yet,” paige mutters.

“don’t kill the vibe,” kk says. she gestures wildly. “go on. get close. more. closer.”

paige shifts behind azzi on the bed, legs folding automatically. azzi leans back slightly to rest against her, and the contact sends a shock through her skin like she’s short-circuiting. this is fine. totally fine. normal behavior for two near-strangers in a definitely-not-suggestive photoshoot.

“hand on her waist,” kk calls, adjusting her phone. “and azzi, tilt your head back, like you’re worn out.”

paige’s hand finds azzi’s hip, fingers splaying across the soft cotton of her borrowed t-shirt. azzi does as told, and for a second paige’s vision blurs. the curve of her neck, the flushed heat of her skin from alcohol or earlier makeup efforts—it’s all a little too real.

“jesus,” kk mutters, half to herself. “this looks…kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

paige groans. “can we not—comment on that?”

“okay, okay,” kk says, still snapping. “let’s switch it up. azzi, crawl into her lap. yeah, like that. lean back a little, like you’re laughing at something she said. paige, smile. not like you’re being tortured.”

“so, you are taking the pictures for us, then?”

“i’m close enough he won’t be able to tell it was taken by someone else,” kk huffs. “now, go. c’mon.”

“i’m not a model,” paige mutters, but she does her best to grin.

azzi wiggles into place, her thigh slotting between paige’s legs. “sorry,” she whispers.

“don’t apologize,” paige says automatically, which is a mistake, because then azzi looks at her, and they’re way too close for that.

“aaaand pause,” kk says, not looking up from the phone. “i think i need y’all to look a little messier. paige, mess up your hair. azzi, can you tug the shirt off your shoulder a little? you look too put together.”

paige drags a hand through her hair, trying not to stare as azzi obliges, the shirt slipping just enough to expose the faux-hickey she’d applied earlier. kk catches it in the next snap and lets out a sharp whistle.

“he’s gonna cry when he sees these,” she says gleefully.

azzi’s lips twitch. “that’s the goal.”

more posing. more directions. at some point paige gets bolder, draping an arm around azzi’s stomach. azzi leans back into her without hesitation, as if it’s natural, like they do this every day.

kk crouches to get a shot from below and then pauses, frowning at her screen. “hold up,” she says. “jana’s calling. gimme a sec.”

she stands and walks out, phone already at her ear, voice lowering as she steps into the other room.

the silence she leaves behind is heavy.

paige shifts slightly. azzi doesn’t move off her lap.

“so…” paige starts, voice low. “this is probably the weirdest way i’ve ever spent a night.”

azzi chuckles softly. “same. but it’s kind of…weirdly fun?”

“yeah,” paige admits. “yeah, it kinda is.”

they lapse into another pause. paige thinks she should move, but azzi hasn’t, and she’s scared that if she does, she’ll mess up whatever weird little truce they’re holding onto.

“hey,” azzi says suddenly, voice softer now. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“do you hang out with your team very often?” she asks. “because, i mean, i see y’all on tv and at social events and stuff but—i dunno. you’re never in any of their tiktoks or anything.” azzi winces. “not that i’ve been paying attention.”

paige stiffens slightly. “uh. i dunno. just—trying to focus. this year’s important.”

“yeah,” azzi says quietly. “it is.”

azzi looks down, to gather her thoughts, maybe, and seems to realize that she’s still on top of paige because her breath hitches and then she moves, rolling off so she’s sitting beside her. “sorry,” she murmurs.

“you’re good.”

the quiet stretches again, heavier this time.

“truth?” paige says suddenly.

azzi turns toward her a little more, her thigh still between paige’s, their knees brushing. “truth.”

“i’ve been drinking too much,” paige blurts. “i’m not like an alcoholic or anything,” she’s quick to defend, because alcoholism is for deadbeat dads and stuff, right? not for celebrity college athletes. “it just, lately, it got kind of bad, and people started noticing, and it’s hard to be around them now. they all look at me like they think i’m gonna…i dunno. fall apart or something.”

azzi’s eyes soften. “i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay. i mean—it’s not,” paige shrugs. “but it’s…i had this breakup a few months ago. really bad. i thought it was going to be forever, you know? and then it wasn’t, i guess, and it was kinda my fault, and i—the team took me to parties, to get my mind off it. i learned pretty quick that drinking helped me forget. and now, i mean, i’m mostly over it, i guess, but it helps with other things, too. like when i’m stressed about an exam, or worried for a game, or something. it helps.”

she stares off into space, then catches herself, glancing over at azzi, who’s staring her with an imperceptible look on her face. “damn, my bad. didn’t mean to overshare with a stranger like that.”

“you’re not a stranger,” azzi says, her voice quiet. “not to me.”

paige blinks. “i didn’t think you knew anything about me.”

“i do,” azzi says. “we’re not close, but…i’ve kept up with you, since usa. i’m a people-watcher. very perceptive.” she elbows paige, raising a smug, teasing eyebrow. “and i think i’ve got you all figured out.”

paige exhales, glad for the mood lightener. “oh yeah? and who am i?”

“you’re…a twenty-two year old college student,” azzi starts.

paige laughs. “wow, super perceptive. how’d you figure that one out?”

“shut up, smart-ass, i’m not finished,” azzi snips, and paige is almost surprised at the sass, at the teasing that she herself loves so much. “lemme continue. i think you’re someone who likes to think you’ve got your life together. you walk around like you’re so sure of everything, like your whole future is planned out, and you know it’s all gonna end well for you. so you act like you don’t worry, like you don’t…care.”

paige raises an eyebrow. “but…?”

“but,” azzi says, “you’re a twenty-two year old college student. of course you don’t have your life figured out. you get stressed out trying to decide what you’re gonna eat for your next meal. your shoulders are constantly tense. you’re always wringing your hands before games, did you know that? during time-outs, too.”

paige looks over, startled, to find azzi looking just as surprised. “you watch me play?”

azzi fumbles for something. “i’m a basketball player. you didn’t expect me to watch basketball?”

“i didn’t expect you to watch me,” paige says.

azzi opens her mouth. closes it. looks away, at the wall ahead. “i guess i didn’t realize i was.”

paige doesn’t know what to say to that. she feels seen and it’s terrifying.

“truth?” azzi says after a moment.

“truth.”

“chad’s been cheating on me,” she says. “i haven’t caught him, but i know. it’s been obvious for weeks.”

paige looks at her, waiting.

“and he’s mean,” azzi continues. “not, like…evil. just sharp. cold. the kind of mean that makes you feel stupid for crying or asking to be treated better. tonight was just—my last straw, i think. i didn’t want to go back to that room and feel like shit again. so i came here.”

“you didn’t have to come with us,” paige says. “i would’ve just, like, venmoed you for the shoes.”

azzi meets her eyes. “i think…i think i wanted to come here.”

paige’s breath catches.

before she can figure out what that means—what to say—kk’s voice cuts in from the hall. “yo! i gotta bounce for a sec, emergency meeting. jana’s constipated for real, imma bring over some laxatives. i’ll be back in like twenty.”

they hear the cabin door open and then click shut.

“you think we should keep going?” azzi asks after a beat.

paige nods, voice suddenly thick. “yeah. okay.”

wordlessly, they rearrange, moving closer. azzi sits with her knees up now, leaning into paige’s shoulder, one hand splayed across her thigh.

they take a few selfies this time. azzi guides her hand behind the camera, adjusting the angle to catch just enough skin, just enough closeness. their shoulders press. their cheeks touch. at some point, paige’s hand finds azzi’s knee, and azzi doesn’t move it.

by the time kk returns, azzi is in paige’s lap again, one hand hooked around the back of her neck.

kk pauses in the doorway. “well damn.”

“we figured we’d keep going,” paige says, eyes wide.

“uh-huh,” kk says knowingly. “y’all definitely got the shots now.”

she walks around with the phone, checking a few pictures. “these are good. like…y’all could win a grammy for best fake situationship or something.”

paige laughs, a little too loudly. “we just wanted to sell it.”

“mission accomplished.” kk pockets her phone. “i’ll edit mine and get them to you, azzi.”

“thanks,” azzi says. “seriously. for everything.”

kk just grins. “get some sleep, y’all. and don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.”

when she’s gone, paige and azzi look at each other.

“that was—” paige starts.

“insane,” azzi finishes.

they laugh, even though nothing’s really funny.

❀❀❀

the clock on the stove reads 4:36 a.m. the suite is dark and quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. paige is sitting at the counter, a half-empty glass of water in her hand, the condensation dripping slowly down to form a ring beneath it.

she can’t sleep. her skin’s still buzzing, brain too full. not from alcohol—for once—but from azzi. from the way her voice had gone soft. from the weight of her in paige’s lap. from the echo of that not-quite-confession: i think i wanted to come here.

the room creaks. faint footsteps pad across the floor.

paige looks up.

azzi appears in the doorway, her braids wrapped in kk’s spare bonnet, bundled in one of paige’s old huskies sweatshirts that’s big enough to swallow her whole. she looks warm. sleepy. somehow both tentative and certain.

“couldn’t sleep,” azzi says, voice scratchy.

paige offers a quiet smile. “same.”

azzi shuffles forward, hugging her arms around herself. “can i hang with you?”

“uh-huh.”

azzi climbs onto the stool next to her. their knees knock under the counter and neither moves to pull away. azzi steals a sip from paige’s water without asking, and something about that—something about the easy familiarity of it—sends a warm, unsteady ache through paige’s chest.

they sit in silence for a while. the kind of silence that settles between people who are too tired to lie but too uncertain to speak first.

finally, azzi says, “i didn’t think today would end like this.”

paige snorts quietly. “me either.”

“i thought i’d be crying to some emo playlist and wondering why i ever trusted him.”

“and i thought i’d be drinking alone in my room, again,” paige admits. “so…silver linings, i guess?”

azzi turns slightly to look at her, and the light from the clock reflects in her eyes, soft and shimmering. “i meant what i said earlier. about wanting to come here.”

paige looks at her. “yeah?”

azzi nods, then smiles softly to herself. “it’s been a lot of fun, despite…everything.” she gestures at their surroundings. “i don’t think i’ve laughed like that in months, to be honest.”

“i don’t think i’ve felt…wanted like that in months,” paige says, quieter now, fully aware that what she’s saying is pathetic and induced by the last dregs of alcohol in her system. “even if it was fake.”

a moment of silence. then a soft, “truth?”

paige nods.

azzi’s voice gets softer. “it didn’t feel fake.”

that—that does it.

paige’s breath catches, heart thudding loud in her chest. she glances at azzi, who’s already looking at her, mouth parted, gaze open in a way that makes something deep inside paige tremble.

“can i—?” paige starts, voice hoarse.

“yes,” azzi breathes.

paige leans in slowly, giving azzi every chance to pull away. but she doesn’t. she leans in too, and when their lips meet, it’s soft. hesitant. careful, like they’re both afraid of shattering something delicate.

azzi’s hand finds paige’s hoodie, clutching at the fabric. paige cups her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye. the kiss deepens in quiet pulses, not rushed, but heavy with the weight of something new.

when they finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, paige whispers, “sorry. i didn’t—i wasn’t trying to make this weird.”

“it’s not weird,” azzi says, eyes still closed. “it’s…good. i think it’s really good.”

they sit like that for a long beat, breathing the same air.

then azzi whispers, “can i stay with you? i just…don’t want to be alone tonight.”

paige nods immediately. “yeah. of course.”

azzi takes her hand. her fingers are cold, but her grip is sure.

they walk quietly through the dark suite. it’s a short walk, but it feels like it takes years. the lights are all off, but paige’s room glows faintly with the soft blue light of the tv she’d left on, a 2000s sitcom playing on mute.

paige opens the door and lets azzi step inside first. she watches her for a second, silhouetted against the light—still in the oversized hoodie and sleep shorts, face bare and soft. she’s never looked more unreal.

paige swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears.

azzi turns to face her. “you coming?”

paige steps in and closes the door behind her. something buzzes under her skin, in both a turned-on way and a bug-crawly way.

it’s dawning on her, now, with azzi standing there giving her bedroom eyes in her bedroom—she just kissed azzi fudd. she threw up on her then proceeded to be incredibly awkward for the entire night before trauma-dumping and has now pulled her.

azzi fudd. the fucking—love of her life. the celebrity crush of her goddamn dreams. is standing before her like some kind of bisexual goddess waiting to receive the best head of her life. and oh, will paige make sure it actually is the best head of her life. much better than chad’s, that’s for certain. if he even gave her head. he seems the type of guy to say it’s ’too gross’.

“paige?”

oh god. she’s been staring.

“hey,” azzi frowns, stepping towards her. “you okay? i can leave, or…”

“no,” paige says vehemently, also stepping forward, closing the gap between them. she wants to reach out, to pull azzi in, but she’s not sure if that’s what azzi really wants. maybe she just wants to sleep? not that paige isn’t down for snuggling, but she’s already hyped herself up for that whole head thing, and she’s not super willing to back down now. “i just…”

azzi looks at her, eyes searching her face before she looks down. her lips quirk up, and when she looks back at paige, she’s clearly amused. “i clocked you so hard earlier.”

“i…what?” paige asks.

azzi points. “your hands.”

paige looks down, and sure enough—she’s wringing her hands. like a nervous little wimp. she scoffs, pulling them apart and wiping them on her sweats before making a split-second decision, pulling azzi in by the waist. “you didn’t clock shit.”

“no?” azzi asks, smile growing a little. her hands are soft as they roam up paige’s arms before circling around the back of her neck. “so you’re not super nervous right now?”

“i’m not nervous,” paige is quick to correct. “just wondering what you want.”

azzi’s eyebrows rise, just a little. “oh?”

paige hadn’t really meant to say it, but what the hell. “uh-huh. you wanna tell me?”

“hm.” azzi looks up at her like she’s deliberating something, then smiles, coy and dimply, before stepping back slowly, taking paige with her. “i think…” she whispers, walking them back as if the room were her’s, until her thighs hit the edge of the bed. “i think i want you to give me some real pictures.”

paige quirks an eyebrow, sitting azzi down before kneeling in front of her, playing into the game. “for chad?” she wrinkles her nose as she says it. even his name is a turn-off. paige has no clue how azzi managed to have sex with that man. she imagines azzi saying something like, “oh, chad, yes!” and it turns her teasing smirk into more of a a barely-contained laugh.

azzi’s expression breaks, and it looks a little like she’s fighting a smile of her own. “ew, don’t say his name.”

unable to help it, paige chuckles, leaning her forehead against azzi’s thigh. “what do we call him, then?”

“nothing,” azzi says firmly, lifting paige’s chin and bending down so they’re nose-to-nose, biting her lip slightly as she studies her face. “i want you to give me those pictures,” she mutters, “let me prove him wrong. and then i want you to make me forget him.”

oh, paige can definitely do that.

without another word, paige surges forward and kisses her. it’s surer this time, steadier, now with the knowledge of what’s to come, not just tonight but tomorrow, and maybe—if paige lets herself dream—maybe even longer than that. based off the way azzi presses her tongue against the seam of her lips, paige thinks she might feel it, too.

paige opens up for her, pliant and willing, ready to do whatever azzi asks of her. azzi’s tongue is warm, wet, slippery against paige’s own and she groans at the feel of it, at the minty freshness of her own toothpaste that azzi had used.

“paige,” azzi breathes against her lips. paige hums, leaning forward again to close the small amount of distance. but azzi pulls back, just slightly, and when paige blinks her eyes open azzi’s looking at her urgently, pulling her up by the shoulders. “paige,” she repeats.

paige swears, she usually has so much more finesse in the bedroom. she once made a girl come in under sixty seconds. she convinced her ex to call her daddy, for god’s sakes. but this—this is azzi. and thus, she just stares blankly at her, mind trying desperately to figure out what azzi’s saying while her cunt pulses desperately in her boxers. “…huh?” she says after a moment.

azzi sighs, but there’s something in her eyes, and when paige looks hard enough she thinks maybe it’s fondness? but she doesn’t have time to discern that properly because then azzi is hooking her arms under paige’s armpits and all but hoisting her up into her lap, and that’s just…really fucking hot. paige doesn’t think she’s ever been hoisted before.

hands finding their ways to azzi’s shoulders, paige exhales, blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt to regain some of her rizz. “you’re really strong,” she says instead.

azzi presses her lips to the hinge of paige’s jaw, mumbling against her skin, “good observation.” her arms are steady around paige’s waist, holding her close, allowing for the best access, and paige shifts, hips moving subtly against azzi’s thighs.

azzi’s lips trail higher until she’s nipping at paige’s earlobe, and paige can so clearly hear the little noises coming from her now; soft pants and exhales like she’s trying hard to contain herself. and that just—that does it.

wordlessly, paige presses against azzi’s shoulders, urging her to lay down. azzi looks at her quizzically but goes willingly, getting comfortable against the pillows as paige crawls on top of her. she leans down for another kiss but azzi presses a hand to her chest, stopping her.

“want this off, first,” she says, tugging at the neckline of paige’s shirt. “wanna feel you.”

paige is quick to oblige, reaching behind her head to pull at the fabric around her neck, azzi helping her until the shirt��s off, discarded somewhere to the side. azzi’s eyes roam shamelessly, but not as shamelessly as her hands, which trail over her abs, her ribs, the taut muscles in her back.

“you’re—” she swallows hard, “you’re pretty strong too.”

paige mentally fist-pumps. “good observation, baby.”

shivering against the cool air of the room, paige presses one last kiss to azzi’s lips, lingering there and thinking she could stay like that forever before remembering her job. photos. head. make azzi forget chad.

she shifts down, dipping her head into azzi’s neck to kiss the warm skin there. she smells good, like hair products and perfume. her hands wander of their own accord, lifting azzi’s shirt just enough to reveal a small sliver of skin, a glinting belly piercing. god, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough of this girl.

“want this off you, too,” paige instructs quietly, searching azzi’s eyes for any hesitation, but there’s only heat as she pulls her shirt off in one swift motion. it take’s paige’s brain a few seconds to catch up with what her eyes are seeing—azzi, topless, skin dark against the white bedding, nipples pebbled from the temperature change.

paige makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat, completely aware she’s staring but unable to do anything about it, because she’s surely not going to look away. not when azzi is staring up at her like—like that, with hooded eyes and a small, teasing smile. she knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly what it’d do to paige by letting her find out for herself she isn’t wearing a bra, and it’s going to drive her fucking insane.

“paige,” azzi says.

paige’s eyes snap up from azzi’s chest, somewhat guiltily. “yeah?”

“you have me really fucking worked up right now,” azzi says bluntly. “and as much as i love watching you stare at me, i need you to actually come here and do something about it.”

that gets paige moving.

it’s instinctual, the way she dips her head down, nuzzles into the valley between azzi’s breasts. the way her tongue darts out to taste her skin, the way her palms cup the underside of azzi’s tits and push them up before she takes the stiff peak of one into her mouth.

azzi sighs, this small, satisfied sound which only serves to encourage paige further. she relaxes a little, allowing herself to get out of her own head because she knows this. she’s good at it. she knows without a doubt she can make azzi feel good and if she dies tomorrow, then she’ll die happy knowing she at least got to have this first. got to flick her tongue over azzi’s nipple and revel in the soft moan it elicits from her.

the sound sends a jolt of heat through paige’s stomach, straight to the apex of her thighs. she’s acutely aware of the way she and azzi’s legs are slotted together, the sinewy muscle of azzi’s bare thigh between her own, hovering just beneath her. paige has to make a conscious effort not to bear down onto her, not to search for any of the friction she so desperately needs.

paige pulls off azzi’s tit with a slight pop, admiring the way it looks now, glistening with her saliva. she had planned on making her way down the length of azzi’s body, but now she’s stuck here, watching intently as she rolls azzi’s nipples between her fingertips, loving the way azzi arches up into her. she glances up to catch her expression, and what she finds—mouth slightly ajar, eyes fluttered shut—has her leaning back up to capture her lips in another searing kiss. azzi groans, surprised at the contact, and when paige licks confidently into her mouth, she groans again, this time sounding a little strangled, the noise a mix of pleasure and frustration.

paige chuckles against her lips, trailing away to nose against her cheekbone. “what, you need sum’?”

azzi huffs, arms around paige’s neck pulling her insistently closer. “you’re teasing me.”

“well, i’on know what you want,” paige says, pressing soft kisses against azzi’s jaw.

azzi’s nails scratch a little punishingly into paige’s back. “i told you what i want.”

paige shudders at the pain, the starkness of it, the shivers it sends down her back. “yeah,” paige agrees, leaning up on her elbows to look into azzi’s eyes, “but you ain’t told me how you want it.”

azzi’s eyebrows furrow, a slight pout forming on her lips, and the expression is so cute compared to the compromising situation they’re in that paige almost gives in then and there. but she’s spent the entire night making an absolute fool of herself in front of azzi, and this feels like her only opportunity to show her just what she can do, what she can be, whenever she wants to.

and, shit, does she want to.

“gotta use your words, mami,” paige tells her, looking down at her with something like sympathy even as her tone is commanding, and it has the desired effect: azzi’s breath hitches and her cheeks flush, her eyes squeezing shut like she’s collecting herself before she meets paige’s again.

“want your mouth, paige,” she whispers, almost like she’s embarrassed to be saying it out loud. “your tongue.”

somewhere in her aroused haze, paige registers that this must mean they’re soulmates or something, the fact they both want the same thing. she tucks that little thought away for later (she knows kk will agree when she tells her about it) and then nods, pressing a kiss to azzi’s forehead, just below her bonnet. “good girl,” she murmurs, testing the waters, and based off the way azzi exhales this shaky little whimper, she figures she’s probably into it. also good to know.

paige takes azzi’s forearms in her hands and withdraws them from around her neck, sitting back on her knees in between azzi’s legs. she hooks her fingers around her own basketball shorts, which sit tantalizingly on azzi’s hips—she doesn’t think she’s ever described basketball shorts as tantalizing before—and raises an eyebrow at azzi. azzi nods, lifting her hips off the bed, just enough that paige is able to ease them over the swell of her ass. azzi lifts her feet up, allowing paige to pull the fabric completely off and toss them away before she presses a kiss to each of her ankles. azzi watches her closely, hands fondling her own breasts in a way that makes paige want to put her mouth back on them, but then she’s glancing down at the exposed core between azzi’s thighs and there is just nothing else that could be more important than that in like, the history of the universe.

she plants azzi’s feet on the bed before shifting, laying herself flat on her stomach with her arms propped up beneath her until she’s hovering over azzi’s pelvis, admiring the smooth skin there and the belly ring that sits a few inches higher. she bends down, nuzzling her nose against the soft, curly hair she finds there, pressing a kiss and then many more along the expanse of skin until she reaches a hipbone. she bites, just roughly enough to make a mark, and azzi hisses above her.

paige’s eyes flick up, double-checking, but azzi looks more than okay—in fact, she looks downright impatient. when their eyes meet, she nods urgently at her. “get on with it.”

paige raises an eyebrow at the attitude but doesn’t comment on it just yet, instead pressing a kiss to the other hipbone before saying, “oh, you want more?”

azzi sighs at the coy tone in paige’s voice. “paige.”

“mm,” paige hums. “you sound frustrated, baby.”

“yeah, well,” azzi shifts uncomfortably, “it’s frustrating when you tease me like this.”

“yeah?” paige asks. she rests her cheek against azzi’s thigh, allowing her fingers to trail up and down the inside of her other one, getting close to where she needs her but never close enough. “you’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” she muses.

“fuck you,” azzi says, no real venom there as annoyance mixes with amusement in her eyes.

“i will,” paige promises, kissing her thigh, “princess.”

azzi opens her mouth to speak again. paige cuts her off by biting harshly at the skin she just kissed, turning azzi’s almost-sentence into a high-pitched whine instead.

“fuck,” azzi mutters.

paige inspects the bite—that will definitely be a mark tomorrow—and then shushes her gently, brushing her lips over the spot. “if you catch an attitude with me again,” she murmurs, almost sweet, “you’ll find out how much worse i can be.”

azzi’s hips lift, surprise etching itself slowly into the lines of her face as she registers the words, but paige doesn’t take the time to examine her expression. azzi is spread before her, enticing, dripping, caramel brown giving way to soft pink, and she finally lets herself do what she’s dreamed of doing since she was in high school—she buries her fucking face in it.

azzi’s reaction is immediate and more intense than paige expected it would be, her back and hips arching off the bed as she groans, loud. paige doesn’t even care that arousal has just been smeared all over her forehead. she’s far too busy committing the way azzi tastes, sweet and salty, to memory.

the build-up paid off, as it always does, and azzi’s soaked. paige’s tongue laves wet heat from her entrance to her clit, building her up to a slow rhythm. she lingers a little each time at her entrance, where the taste is the strongest, unable to conceal her own choked sounds as azzi grinds against her face. she glances up to where azzi is playing with her nipples, propped up on her elbows to get a better look at what paige is doing, and the knowledge that she’s being watched so intently has her doubling down on her efforts.

when paige’s movements speed up, azzi’s head tips back, rolling against her shoulders. “oh, paige,” she breathes, sensual and dirty, “oh, baby. feels…”

paige presses her own thighs together at the pet name before flicking her tongue back and forth against azzi’s clit, applying pressure until azzi falls back completely, head thumping against the pillows as she whines. distantly, paige thinks kk could definitely hear them if she were to listen for it. she finds she doesn’t really care at the moment.

“feels good?” paige asks, pressing a few soft kisses to azzi’s cunt.

“mm-hmm,” azzi hums, eyes closed as she focuses on the feeling. her hands travel south until they’re gripping the back of paige’s head, and then she’s tugging her closer, back into her heat. “keep going, baby. please.”

“since you asked so nice,” paige teases, letting azzi’s hands guide her forward. she opens her mouth a little wider, sucking hard against azzi’s hole as if trying to draw more precum out of her before she kisses sloppily against it. azzi’s legs fall further open at the feeling, but paige quickly misses the feeling of thighs pressed against her head and loops her arms under the brunette’s legs, pulling her close again, surrounding herself with soft brown skin.

the new angle brings her impossibly closer to azzi’s center, and paige sticks her tongue out, seeking azzi’s entrance before pressing inside as far as she can.

“oh my fuck,” azzi groans, gripping paige’s head tighter, almost possessive. “keep doing that, right—“ she chokes on her own words as paige begins a slow thrust, “right there.”

paige nods, unsure whether azzi can feel the acknowledgment, but it has her nose bumping up against azzi’s swollen clit and azzi cries out. she moves her tongue, feeling around the spongy inner walls of azzi’s cunt, a new wave of arousal pumping out of the younger girl until it’s dripping down paige’s chin onto the bedsheets below.

the room isn’t quiet, but it sounds like sex, azzi’s breathy moans and the filthy wet sounds of paige’s mouth on her cunt filling the room. she sounds so good, tastes so good, smells so good—paige is only vaguely aware that she has her own pelvis pressed into the mattress, absentmindedly searching for friction as she gets off on pleasing azzi.

she’s so focused on eating that she doesn’t notice the way azzi’s breathing changes, becomes more rapid, or the way her fingers fist up paige’s hair in a way that’s almost painful. in fact, it’s not until she presses her thumb to azzi’s swollen clit while she tongue-fucks her that azzi manages a broken, “oh my god, i’m gonna fucking—!“ that paige realizes she’s going to come.

azzi’s orgasm hits her in waves, it seems, with her hips pressing into paige’s mouth so intensely she can’t breathe for a solid thirty seconds before she’s abruptly pulling away, thighs shaking with the effort. paige watches in something like amazement as her stomach tenses, her cunt pulsing and clenching around nothing, clit twitching almost imperceptibly. it is—fucking beautiful, actually. a work of goddamn art. an image that belongs in the louvre right next to the mona lisa and the venus de milo.

she’s about to dive back in and get another taste of it when azzi uses her grip on her hair to urge her up. reluctantly, paige lets herself be pulled, kissing a gentle path up azzi’s stomach before coming face-to-face with her, thumbs brushing her cheeks as she comes down. eyes still closed, azzi pulls her closer, bumping their foreheads together.

“so pretty,” paige can’t help but mutter, watching azzi’s lashes flutter against her cheeks, lips plump and shiny and parted. “so good for me, baby. did so good.”

after another few moments, azzi opens her eyes, looking at paige like she hung the stars in the sky or something.

“i think i just fell in love with you,” she croaks, and paige laughs, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. “heard that one before.”

azzi smacks her lightly, then pulls her head down, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips before urging her to lay on her chest. paige presses her cheek to azzi’s heartbeat, their breathing gradually syncing up as they lay together. azzi’s nails scratch light patterns against paige’s back, nearly lulling her to sleep, before she abruptly stops and says, “oh, shit.”

“what?” paige asks sleepily.

“we forgot to get pictures.”

paige swears her ears perk up, and she thinks she might be just a little insatiable because she doesn’t feel so tired anymore as she lifts her head with a wicked grin. “damn,” she says. “guess we’ll have to go again.”

the next day, kk gives them hell for keeping her up all night, and gives azzi many earfuls about how she ‘told her so.’ paige offers up their room for the rest of the trip, even though they ultimately proved chad wrong with some certain photos, and azzi is all too quick to take her up on it. (kk moves in with jana, unwilling to hear any more of paige and azzi’s…shenanigans.)

and when, a year later, azzi transfers to uconn? let’s just say kk will swear up and down that she’s the reason they never lose another game to ucla.

[delusional-day-dreamer]

Sleepy Girl - p.b.

‣ paige bueckers x gf reader!

‣ wc: 2k of smut 😛

‣‣ synopsis: waking up in the morning horny and ur girlfriend is right there tbh (ending is kinda rushed and the fic is not yet edited so please bear with me)

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys... i know i completely ghosted this app for a good while but thank you for all the support even while i was MIA. this idea came to me at 11pm on vacation and i figured i should grind it out and make a return. i have a lot of drafts and ideas i came up with but no idea if i'll be able to write them all. in the meantime enjoy and happy holidays!

The warm sunlight spilling in to your bedroom and directly onto your face from the small gap in your curtains seemed to have it out against you.

It was one of the incredibly rare weekends of the season, where your girlfriend, Paige, didn’t have morning practice, lifting, or any PT sessions for residual pain after coming back home late from a basketball game (UConn won, obviously) and the two of you planned to make the most of it.

Having been in a relationship for almost a year now, the two of you had gotten to know each other pretty well over time. From working with the basketball team as a photographer to sharing a class with Paige, to running into each other literally everywhere every single day, metaphorically and physically, the universe seemed to have an intricate plan to bring the two of you together. And with such insistent force, who were the two of you to rebel?

The past ten months dating Paige had been a small roller coaster, the days spent together blissfully were obviously accompanied by the occasional argument of time management or messy rooms or even slight jealousy, but it was nothing the two of you couldn’t work through.

And of course, it was all accompanied by the mind blowing sex you couldn’t stop having. Bent over the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the living room, standing up, from the back, you name it.

But, there was one thing you and Paige had discussed exploring, but never gotten the chance to pursue, and it seemed like this morning was the perfect chance to test it out.

Depending on who woke up first, the two of you often liked to wake the other up with gentle kisses, roaming hands, and sweet nothings. But your synced ovulation cycles brought on a new possibility: morning head.

Although the concept of fucking your girlfriend while she was asleep seemed… well, odd to say the least, the two of you had discussed consent extremely thoroughly, and you weren’t going to sit (or lay in this instance) here and pretend that the sight of Paige laying in your bed right now wasn’t actively turning you on.

She had come to your off campus apartment immediately after her game at XL center and crashed pretty fast, only stopping to shower change into an old, oversized yet cropped off the shoulder sweatshirt of yours and a pair of boxers she left in your drawers.

Currently, she was conveniently splayed out on her back, her left arm stretched above her head raised the hem of your sweatshirt upwards, exposing the curve of her chest and the slightest glimpse of her pink nipples, which were already slightly peaked from the cold air radiating from your fan.

It didn’t take long for you to make up your mind, softly crawling over to rest in between her legs as you leaned over her sleeping figure, using your left hand to gently lift the fabric over her perky tits, exposing her creamy skin to you. You slowly peppered kisses on her boobs, not wanting to create too much stimulation that would wake her before you got to the more exciting part. Although, you weren’t sure you would have to worry about that. Paige could sleep through a hurricane if she was tired enough.

You nipped and sucked at her chest, making sure to pay special attention to her nipples before beginning your descent down her toned abs, bringing your hands to rub at her thighs simultaneously.

Paige groaned softly in her sleep, unconsciously spreading her legs out wider as your fingers danced over the waistband of her boxers.

Deciding that there was no reason to be a tease, especially with the growing ache in between your own legs, you hooked your fingers in her boxers and pulled them downwards, being extremely careful when taking them off her body fully and throwing them off into a corner of your room.

You shift lower, aligning your face with Paige’s already wet cunt as you grip her thighs and blow into her folds lightly, gently arousing her.

You start softly, small kisses and hickeys leading inwards before you finally allow your tongue to lick a long stripe from her entrance up to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her breath slightly hitch.

Even in her sleep, Paige’s body was actively reacting to the growing pleasure as you circled her clit with your tongue and hummed into her, sending shockwaves running through her body, legs spreading, mouth dropping open with low moans, and back arching.

And yet, she was still asleep. You had no interest in waking her up forcefully, it would defeat the whole purpose of morning head. So, you dutifully detached your lips from her clit, opting to replace it with your thumb as you run your fingers through the slick she had accumulated before inserting your middle finger into her, curling it upwards in the way you knew she loved, which seemed to do the trick.

Her eyes began to flutter open the moment you added in your ring finger, mouth dropping with a groan as her right hand reaches out to cup the side of your face.

"Good morning," you rasp out, your breath hot against her sensitive cunt as you smirk at the already fucked out expression on her face.

"Fuck baby, God I didn’t think it would be this good when we talked about-”

Her sleepy whines were cut off with another loud moan as you reattached your lips to her clit, pressing into her g-spot with your fingers while simultaneously sucking her clit, small laughs vibrating through her core as you watched her body shudder at your actions. Her hand immediately moved up to your scalp, placing a firm grip in your head as she secured your spot deep between her legs, anchoring you in place.

"Aw shit ma, fuck you're so good at that, right there just like that, such a good fucking girl for me, don't stop mama you're gonna make me cum," her breathless rambles were endless as she used her left hand to play with her already exposed nipples.

The added stimulation pushed her closer to the edge, and it wasn't long before her muscular thighs began to shake around your head, closing around the sides of your face as she began to grind her hips into your mouth, chasing every second of her orgasm as her mouth hung open with cries.

She eventually let up after you finished licking her clean, even making a show of pulling your fingers out of her and sucking her juices off of them. Her gaze darkens as she pulls you up and over her body once again, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

She nips at your bottom lip before pulling away, feigning annoyance in her tone. "As much as I loved the little stunt you pulled just now, shit pissed me off too. Brought this up in the first place cause I wanted to surprise you."

"Actin' like it's that big of a deal P, you can just do it a different morning," you teased, hand running up and down her side.

"Mm, whatever. All I care about right now is gettin' you right ma," she mumbles against your lips, reconnecting your lips as she slips her tongue into your mouth, grabbing your ass and rolling your hips into her at the same time.

"Nuh uh, it's your day to pillow princess. Lemme spoil you a little bit. You're still tired and sore from your game yeah? Besides, I have a better idea," you insisted, rising up and straddling her waist.

You shoved your sweater off her body before Paige's large hands pulled your grey tank top up and over your head, tossing it somewhere either of you couldn't be bothered to check. Her hand pressed into your mid back, forcing you to arch over her, conveniently placing your perky tits right over her mouth.

Her teeth scraped against your stiff peaks as her other hand, which had quickly returned to its place resting on your ass, began rocking your hips back and forth over her abs, drawing out deep sighs of pleasure from the multiple sources of friction and stimulation.

"Fuck Paige," you whined out, "why you gotta make it so hard for me to take care of you sometimes," you half-heartedly reprimanded, pinching her nipple roughly as you tore yourself away from her, shimmying your basically non-existent thong off as you resettled yourself in between her legs.

"Crawl up to the headboard," you demanded, raising your eyebrow at her inquisitive expression.

"Please," you added in with a soft pout, satisfied when she complied with your request. You eagerly followed her body, stationing your hands on her shoulders as you draped your right leg over her left, maneuvering her right in order to rest over your own left before gently lowering yourself down, hissing the moment your cores met.

You rolled your hips forward tentatively, moving your left hand down to Paige's right thigh while you sank forward, circling your other arm around her neck as you moaned against her lips.

The kiss was a needy, open mouthed mess of saliva and moans as you continued to roll your hips into Paige's with the help of her guiding hands, shocks of pleasure licking your spine every time your clits aligned.

As you approached closer to your orgasm, your head tipped back, mouth hung open with desperate, borderline pornographic whines constantly spilling out, impairing your ability to kiss Paige back. Though, she would never complain and simply kept her mouth busy by sucking hickeys along your neck and chest, whispering filthy words of encouragement into your skin.

"My girl's such a slut for me, huh? Riding me so good, pussy so wet she's dripping all over me, 's basically crying for me ma. You like that?"

Her gravely voice added to the fuzzy feeling that had taken over your brain, driven only by the tight coil threatening to snap any second in your belly. From the feeling of yours and Paige's warm slickness coating your entire cunt, to the deep throbbing you clit was experiencing.

You moved your left hand from Paige's thigh up to the headboard, using it to grind down harder against Paige's center, and the pressure on your clits had moans ringing out from both of you.

"God, Paige. So close baby, fuck I'm so close," you whined near incoherently, eyes screwed shut from the way your entire body was on fire, on the edge of immense pleasure.

She moved her mouth to the sweet spot behind your ear, nipping at the skin as she her fingers deftly began tweaking your nipples. "Cum for baby, give it to me. Please need it so bad."

You cry out as a freight train of an orgasm hits you, Paige's words and hands sending you over the edge, and the sight of you coming undone, not to mention the sounds you were letting out, left Paige no choice but to follow your lead.

Your body shuddered against hers, the pleasure slowly washing over you, leaving you breathless and extremely sensitive. You untangled your legs from Paige, collapsing on the bed next to her and pulling her down with you.

You kissed her sweetly, intimately, a far cry from the sex you were just having.

"I love you so much you know that?" You muttered against Paige's lips, cracking your eyes open to see the lazy smile set on her face.

"I love you too, even though I'm pissed you stole my surprise," she whispered defiantly.

"What you don't think those two orgasms made up for it? We can go for round two if you really insist," you smirked, knowing that there was no way your body could handle another orgasm immediately.

Before she can even answer, your stomach growled loudly, inciting loud laughter from both of you.

"How about we take care of that first yeah? We can go for round two in the shower after breakfast," she responded slyly, pulling you up and out of bed with her to get dressed and have breakfast together. To you, nothing in the world could beat mornings like these with Paige.

[mystarosaragi]

idk if we say this every year but let me say it first this year DAMNNN all these wcbb teams are stacked this year

and i maybe biased a lil bc my class of ‘25 is finally in college 😁😁 but shhhh

like lsu, usc, uconn calm downnnn

[authentic-girl03]

Yall my show about to come back on‼️😁😁

[azzibuckets]

i wanna see you [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: lil oneshot bc i can’t stop thinking about paige singing for azzi to open the door

masterlist

“I wanna see you.” Paige’s loud, sing-songy voice penetrates through Azzi’s supposedly soundproof Bose earbuds, and Azzi resists the urge to slam her head against her desk.

“Paige, don’t piss me off right now,” she calls out, trying to focus on the words swimming around on her laptop screen.

She’s been working on her paper for what seems like hours, with Paige curled to her side for the first bit. At first, she’d tried to make it work. Brainstorming was easy enough, and she jotted down thoughts floating through her head as she’d structured her outline. But then Paige had rolled over, insisting on lying her head on Azzi’s chest, which inevitably came with the full weight of her 6’0 self pinning Azzi’s arm down. See, the thing about Paige Bueckers is that physical touch is her love language, so of course that meant that with her, there was no such thing as just a simple head on chest. Paige found every opportunity for maximum skin to skin contact, which meant her entire body was slumped over Azzi’s - a habit Azzi usually found endearing, but not when her paper was due in three hours.

With a sigh, Azzi had relented to her fate of only typing with one hand. But after five minutes of only being able to write a single painstakingly slow sentence, her right hand started to cramp and her left arm started falling asleep with pins and needles. “Paige,” she’d said gently. “Can you get up please? I really need to finish this.”

With a huff, Paige had dramatically flung herself to the other end of the bed. “My girl hates me,” she’d goaded under her breath, which Azzi had pretended not to hear for both of their sakes. Thankfully, with a couple of feet of space between them and full range of her hands, Azzi was able to finish the first draft of her introduction.

Some steady progress was finally being made until she felt a socked toe start rubbing the inner part of her calf. Looking up, she was met with hooded blue eyes and a smirk. “You look sexy right now, mami, working so hard.” The blonde has always been a little bit more down bad for Azzi whenever she wore her glasses, which the younger girl always gave her shit for but secretly loved.

On Azzi’s end, it certainly didn’t help that Paige was fresh from the shower, her hair down for once with blonde strands spilling over her shoulders. Her sweater had ridden up to show the outline of her abs, and her sweatpants were hanging on so low to her hips that Azzi could see her v-line. It had taken everything in Azzi not to throw away her laptop and kiss the other girl.

“Paige,” she reprimanded, masking her desire with irritatation. “No talking, okay? I really need to lock in.”

Pouting, Paige had shut up and resorted to scrolling mindlessly on Tiktok, thankfully with her volume down. But soon enough, she started laughing to herself, quietly. Azzi closed her eyes briefly, waiting for her to finish so she could write in peace, but Paige seemed to find each video funnier than the one before, her soft giggles turning into full on belly laughs. Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. “What could possibly be this fucking funny?”

Paige froze, eyes flicking up from her phone. “Ummm. It’s a drawing of us. Wanna see? You look hella goofy.” She eagerly turned her phone around, scooting closer to show Azzi, but Azzi pushed her hand away.

“Paige. Seriously. This is important, and I can’t focus.” She nudged her shoulder. “You gotta go.”

“Are you for real?” Paige’s mouth dropped a little. “You kicking me out of my own room?”

“Either you leave or I go back to my room and there will be no sleepover tonight.” Azzi’s voice was firm, leaving no room for an answer.

“This is fucked up,” Paige groaned, getting up from the bed to collect her things. “What am I supposed to do?”

“The exact same thing you’re doing here - but there.” Azzi pointed towards the door. “I’m sure the other girls are doing something fun. Go join them.”

“My own room. My own bed. My headphones,” Paige grumbled, choosing to ignore her girlfriend’s suggestions. “You might as well just break up with me.”

That had been a brief 20 minutes ago, and Azzi had thoroughly enjoyed the brief period of peace until she’d heard a thud, presumably of Paige slumping on the floor on the other side of the door. “Let me in,” Paige began singing. “I wanna see your face.”

Azzi grits her teeth.

“Please open the dooooor,” Paige continues. “I need you to open the door.”

Azzi turns up the volume of her music, but to no avail.

“Just one kiss,” Paige moans from outside. She hears amother thud, this time from her girlfriend’s head hitting the door. “One kiss and I’ll goooo.”

When Azzi opens the door, Paige stumbles forward into her, surprised. Azzi grabs the collar of the older girl’s shirt, pulling her in to press a firm kiss to her mouth. Paige responds eagerly, tongue swiping at her bottom lip as she tries to deepen the kiss, but Azzi gently pushes her away before it can get too far. “Satisfied?”

Paige grins dopily. Azzi plants another kiss on her lips before releasing her shirt. “Okay. Go chill out.” With a roll of her eyes, Paige finally gives up, ambling over to the couch to join KK’s live.

Two hours later, Azzi is finally done. She slams her laptop shut, her eyes bleary as she wanders out of the room. KK is on the couch, playing Fortnite. “Where’d Paige go?”

“I think she went to your room. Said she was gonna take a nap,” KK responded, not looking away from the TV.

When Azzi opens the door, Paige is slumped in her bed and cocooned in her favorite purple blanket, snores coming out of her parted lips. Azzi climbs onto the bed, hand wrapping around the older girl’s waist and face nuzzling into the nape of her shoulders. Paige stirs slowly before blinking awake. “You finished your essay?” she asks groggily, flipping around so they’re eye to eye.

Azzi nods, slinging a leg across the other girl’s hips. “Tired?”

“Mm.” Paige closes her eyes, almost falling back asleep in Azzi’s arms before realizing she’s still supposed to be mad. Eyes twitching, she crosses her arms, angling herself away from the younger girl’s body.

“You mad at me?” Azzi kisses her cheek, watching closely for her reaction. Paige’s hands stay folded across her chest, but her fingers twitch with restraint. Azzi notices and bites back a smile. “I’m sorry, honey.” She bites at her ear, capturing the soft flesh of her lobe between her teeth and tugging gently, but Paige remains stiff. “I had to focus.” She rolls over directly on top of Paige, smoothing back her blonde hair away from her face with both hands and rubbing her thumbs across her cheeks. “Let me make it up to you?”

“Lock me out of my own room again and we’re gonna have problems,” Paige threatens, trying to sound as scary as possible. She knows she’s failed when Azzi’s dimples appeared.

“Never again,” her girlfriend promises, beginning a trail of sweet, open mouthed kisses down Paige’s shoulder. This time, Paige responds, hips pressing up into her as one hand finds the back of her head, guiding her motions. “You’re a big baby, you know that?” Azzi teases, smiling fondly down at the blonde, who shakes her head indignantly. “But you’re my big baby.” She smothers Paige’s face in more kisses until the older girl can no longer fight back her smile.

“You finish your paper?” Paige asks.

“Yes. But remind me to never try and do homework with you ever again.” Azzi dips her head against Paige’s forehead.

“That’s offensive,” Paige complains. “I can lock in.”

“Don’t even try me,” Azzi argues back. “And don’t get me started on your fuck ass singing. You’re so obsessed with me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stay away from you,” Paige admits. “Not since I was sixteen.” And she’s not wrong. Paige has never been able to stay away: not when they were kids on a plane, heading home after winning a gold medal. Not when they were in upperclassmen in high school, facetiming each other after every game into the hours of the morning. Not when Paige was a freshman, sending Azzi highlight reels and talking about the day they’d win a national championship together. Not even now, when they see each other every day, but Paige still falls a little bit more in love the more she knows every little thing about Azzi.

But Azzi hasn’t ever been able to stay away, either. Admitting that, though? She can save that for another day.

[vicsstufff]

LOVE LANGUAGE —

۶ৎ - summary: talk to me in your love language, show me how to connect to you. headcanons about the love language of some of the uconn wbb girls!

۶ৎ - wc: 888

۶ৎ - content/players: p. bueckers, m. cheli, k. arnold, c. ducharme, a. fudd, a. griffin and s. strong + j. watkins !

authors note | HEADCANONS! idk what to say tbh. enjoy!

P.B 5 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

this girl is touchy asf, can’t get her hands off you, don’t get me started the times you guys have been caught in live because of her.

“private but not a secret.” goes down the drain after being together for 4 months. how? the time you, paige and caroline went shopping, a fan spotted both of you in the nike shop. when they were building up courage to go and ask for a picture (while filming both of you) paige boldly kissed you unexpectedly because you got angry at her for not choosing quickly.

she doesn’t regret getting exposed in X, she can now enjoy her girl freely.

don’t allow her to get too comfortable! in dinner nights with friends, her hand will linger to far up your thigh or will suddenly squeeze your boob thinking nobody is watching. she is definitely both ass and boob girl (she can’t choose!) i can see her pressing herself against your back while you cook, shopping, brushing your teeth and doing your make up. lovesss helping you do your skincare or preparing a bath for you after a long day.

you always have a arm around your waist or shoulders.

M.C 23 — QUALITY TIME

her schedule now that she has joined uconn’s basketball team, is full but she always make space for you, binge eating to a random 2000’s love movie, or just spending time watching tv, enjoying each others presence, she loves feeling that you are there with her.

drags you to the gym (even if you don’t do anything), having you sleep in top of her, just hearing your breathing and feeling your heartbeat makes her happy.

protect her. please. girl be tripping on the smoothest walkway possible, she will say she doesn’t need you protecting her, but! will feel giddy in love when you protect her. will also show you sign language! (don’t worry about her getting frustrated when you don’t remember a sign, she has tank full of patience just for you). going back to the part of protecting her, she is also a basketball magnet, you can’t do much for her when she is practicing or in a game.

K.A 2 — GIVING GIFTS

not only does she give you candy, clothes etc. she gives you parts of herself (the team knows she is WHIPPED when they see her sharing her trufru with you) don’t you dare reject her gifts! not only will she feel bad but she’ll also force you to accept them (there’s no way out) takes caroline and azzi with her to the mall, helping her choose gifts (and also bc they won’t leave her there)

C.D 33 — ACTS OF SERVICE

we know this girl carries the team on her shoulders, the perfect mom to a group full of children only being serious when playing with a ball.

you need help on a project? there she is, finishing it within hours, you got in trouble? she speaks calmly with your teacher (her voice is so soothing, i can she her whispering songs or praises while you lay your head on her chest, caressing your hair)

A.F 35 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

her schedule is also full, but 2X more, adds, sponsorships, games, practice, college, like it’s a lot, but there’s nothing this girl can do! so, she also makes quiet moments part of her schedule, like staring at the stars after her basketball practice, analyzing games, or yapping about random things late at night.

A.G 44 — WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

her words are genuine and tender, you could just be cooking and she would start praising randomly, i can also see her commenting wild things on your instagram.

you finished you homework quickly? she is praising you for it, she loves the dress you picked for your anniversary? she is washing you with praises. you are so perfect and beautiful, she needs to let you know!

S.S 21 — QUALITY TIME

she is so giggly and awkward, i love her.

she values any time spent together, even if it’s just hanging out, talking about the past, or watching her do shots. help her with media training, she sometimes forgets where she is and doesn’t listen to what the media questioned. she genuinely questions herself rather present you to the team, not because she is embarrassed of you but because she is afraid they will scare you away.

like, they’re freshman got a lady? they NEED to meet her, no excuses! if she reuses the idea, they make a whole plan to catch her on a date with you.

J.W 12 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

i am confident in my instincts and i know this girl is touchy (off camera!) a funny scenario i can see is that while dominique is filming, she focuses on you and juju, she has your arm wrapped around your shoulders while your head is resting on her shoulder and lingering your hand on her thigh, you see she focuses the camera on you two and you immediately separate, juju is hella confused and looks at you, her eyebrows knitted together, her head snaps towards dominique who still has the camera pointed towards you and she gives dominique the fattest side eye ever (obviously she edited that part out)

she is so cuddly after practice or a game, laying her entire body on you.

[lupinqs]

PTPOM ━━ paige bueckers x teammate!reader

☆ ━ summary: you put that pussy on paige… based off that amari live clip, iykyk

☆ ━ word count: 4.1K

☆ ━ warnings: smutttt (paige is a MUNCH, strap, spitting, etc)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: yeah i’m ngl this was meant to be a pazzi fic but i wrote it and it just didn’t feel like them at all so i changed it to an x reader. sorry y’all, pazzi stuff coming soon!

THE BUS RIDE is electric, the aroma of your team’s win filling the vehicle. Music blares from Jana’s portable speaker, the bass rattling the floor beneath their feet. The whole team is hyped, celebrating a well-played game and a well-deserved win. You sit near the middle of the bus, in the window seat, while your teammate (and girlfriend), Paige, sits beside you, closer to the aisle.

KK is stood up a couple rows down, shouting the lyrics to the current song being played, dancing in her usual KK-Arnold-fashion. Amari’s closer to the back of the bus, entertaining a live that you’d talked to for a little while before growing bored and reclaiming your seat next to Paige.

The music shifts, and suddenly, PTPOM 2.0 is blaring through the speakers. The energy around you grows in a single millisecond, KK and Jana practically losing it, jumping up in their seats, hands in the air and grins on their faces. Paige’s face alights in excitement, and she stands in her seat, clapping, before absolutely screaming in a way that you’re sure anyone within a mile radius can hear, “AY, PUT THAT PUSSY ON ME!”

You watch, wide-eyed and laughing, as Paige and the others get louder, bouncing and singing along to the lyrics, the bus shaking with energy, feeding off the chaoticness. You share a look with Azzi, who’s also sitting and observing, that is equal parts disbelief and amusement.

“Let’s go! This the one!” Paige shouts before grinning down at you from where she stands beside you.

You shake your head a little bit, still laughing as you say, “You’re so gay.”

She doesn’t respond, just uses her hand to ruffle your hair a little bit as she sticks her tongue out. You let out another laugh, slapping her hand away and going to fix the ponytail that she’s ruined as Paige returns to her singing—if you could even call it that.

Eventually, Paige, breathless from shouting and jumping, collapses back into her seat, still grinning from ear to ear. Her chest heaves with exhilaration, and she turns to you, her eyes gleaming.

Leaning in close, your girlfriend’s lips brush along the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Can you tonight? In the hotel?”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the soft, teasing tone in Paige’s voice. You tilt your head slightly, stomach fluttering, though trying to stay nonchalant.

“Can I what?” you ask, voice light but curiosity piqued.

Paige’s smirk deepens, her breath warm against your ear as she murmurs suggestively, “Put that pussy on me?”

You pull away to look her in the eye, your own eyes widening, mouth agape. You slap Paige lightly on the arm, trying to keep your cheeks from turning red as you feel the blood begin to rush in them. You look around a little bit, hoping to God that none of your teammates hears Paige’s words. When you see none of them looking at the two of you, your gaze returns to Paige and you say, half-disbelieving (though you really shouldn’t considering she says things like this far too often), “You did not just say that.”

Paige just grins, leaning back in her seat as she stretches her arms behind her head, completely unbothered. “What?” she asks, feigning innocence, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just asking a question.”

You just shake your head, biting your lip to hide your smile and doing your best to not let your face give away how flustered you really are. “Enough.”

“Come onnn,” Paige whines a little, leaning back in closer to you, one of her hand landing on your thigh, which she squeezes a little. “Please, baby. I know you wanna.”

You shoot her a look, eyes flitting between her hand on your skin and her face. You roll your eyes, ignoring the fast-paced pitter-patter of your heart beating through your chest. “We’ll see.”

THE HOTEL ROOM door closes behind the two of you with a click. Paige tosses both of your duffel bags into the corner of the room as you, with an exaggerated groan of exhaustion, collapse face-first into one of the hotel beds. Your body sinks into the plush comforter, arms and legs sprawled out, as if the the exhaustion of the day and the game have finally caught up to you. Paige smiles a little bit at your dramatics, shaking her head.

“Long day?” she teases, kicking off her shoes as she makes her way over to the bed.

You let out a muffled sound of agreement, face still buried in the pillows. “So long,” you mumble into the fabric. “I’m exhausted.”

Paige slides onto the bed beside you, hovering over you slightly as her hand instinctively finds its way to your hip, fingers curling around the soft material of your shirt. “Yeah?” she asks, voice dropping to a lower tone. “‘S too bad…”

You turn your head slightly, just enough to glance at your girlfriend through half-lidded eyes, a small smile playing on your lips. “I might have a little energy left,” you murmur up at her, eyes trailing to the blonde’s lips.

Paige grins, leaning down until your faces are just mere centimeters apart, the playful glint in her eyes now mixing with something else that makes your stomach tumble. “Knew you’d say that,” she whispers, smirking wider as her breath fans across your skin.

And then, without any hesitation, Paige closes the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. You welcome it eagerly, body reacting immediately to the familiar press of Paige’s mouth, the weight of her presence beside you on the bed. Paige’s hand slides from your hip to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss with a kind of urgency that neither of you had quite anticipated.

You let out a soft, content sigh against Paige’s lips, your hand coming up to tangle in the blonde’s hair as you shift onto your back, pulling Paige on top of you. Paige takes the invitation eagerly, her body pressing yours into the bed as she kisses you harder, more insistently. Your lips move in perfect sync, the heat between you building rapidly as your surroundings seem to fade into the background.

Paige’s kisses soon begin to stray, her lips trailing down your jaw and then to your neck, each press of her mouth leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your breath hitches slightly as Paige finds that particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, your hands gripping your girlfriend’s back a little tighter.

“Paige,” you whisper, voice breathy and full of need.

Paige doesn’t respond with words—she doesn’t need to. Her hands slide under your shirt, pulling it over your head quickly, leaving you just in your sports bra. Her mouth returns to its spot on your neck, flicking her tongue out a little to taste the skin, while her fingers trail along your stomach, before landing at your bra, flicking at the fabric slightly. Your breath hitches once more as her hand reaches under the article of clothing, thumb brushing along your nipple slightly, before beginning to knead your breast.

Her kisses begin to trail even more, now sliding from your neck down to your collarbone, where she sucks with a ferventness that has your eyes fluttering closed, sighing at the feeling.

But before you can really relish in it, something else piques your attention. Paige is muttering—humming (?)—something against your skin between kisses, words that jumble together as your mind zooms in on the feeling of her hand on your breast, her body on top of yours, her lips on your skin. You focus more on her words, fluttering your eyes open, brows furrowing.

“Put that pussy on me,” she hums almost imperceptibly against your skin.

As you realize that she’s singing that stupid song again, you can’t help but let out a loud laugh and it bubbles through your chest. “Paige,” you say, voice full of amusement as you tug at her game-day ponytail. “Quit singing that.”

Paige pauses, pulling away just enough to look you in the eye, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Okay,” she says with a shrug, her tone far too innocent for the look in her eyes.

For a brief second, you think that maybe she actually will stop. But Paige, in true Paige fashion, has other plans. Instead of continuing the song, she takes the lyrics to heart.

Without another word, Paige’s hands move with purpose, slipping down to your waistband and tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. Your breath catches in your throat, heart racing as you quickly realize your girlfriend’s plans. Before you can even think to protest (though you have no intention of doing so), Paige has hooked your legs over her shoulders, positioning herself between them with an undeniable confidence.

“P—” you start, voice already breathless, but the word dies on your lips, instead replaced by a sharp gasp, as Paige licks a slow stripe along your slit.

The sensation is instant, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. Your hands dig into Paige’s hair as you let out a shaky moan, the feel of her mouth on you the only thing you can comprehend. Her tongue moves expertly along your clit, and it makes your chest heave.

“God,” you gasp, fingers tightening in Paige’s ponytail, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensation. Your body is already trembling, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as Paige continues, her mouth and tongue working in perfect rhythm.

Paige, for her part, seems entirely focused on the task at hand, her hands gripping your thighs firmly as she works, her tongue moving with precision, hitting every sensitive spot with ease. Your gasps and soft moans only seem to spur her on, her tongue flicking faster against you, sucking more fervently.

Your world narrows to just this—just the feel of Paige’s mouth, the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your body responds with every touch. It’s overwhelming, in the best possible way, and you can feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, the tension building inside you like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“Paige,” you gasp, voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. “I—God, I’m—”

Before you can finish, the wave of pleasure crests, and your body tenses as you tumble over the edge, hand tightening in Paige’s ponytail, yanking ever so slightly, making her let out a low, breathless moan against your cunt. The vibrations make you shiver, and you’re trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

However, even though you’ve finished, it seems like Paige has no intentions of stopping. Her mouth remains locked on your clit, tongue still working, moving in those perfect, deliberate strokes that have you seeing stars.

You gasp, body tensing again as the sensation becomes too much, the overstimulation hitting you all at once. “P,” you mumble, one of your hands instinctively reaching down to push at Paige’s head, trying to ease her away. “Too much—”

But Paige, ever stubborn, pulls away just enough to whine in protest, her breath hot against your sensitive cunt as she lifts her head. “Please, baby,” your girlfriend pleads, voice low and full of pure neediness. “Just one more. Gimme one more, baby.”

Your breath seems to catch in your throat at the desperation in Paige’s voice, and even though your body is practically vibrating from overstimulation, something about the way Paige asks—no, begs—makes it impossible to say no.

Before you can even respond, Paige is already diving back in, too impatient to wait for an answer. Her mouth moves with renewed focus, her tongue working your clit in ways that make your body feel like it’s on fire. Paige’s brows furrow as she concentrates, lapping at your cunt like a dog, movements precise, each flick of her tongue making you shake.

“Fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into the skin of Paige’s neck as your grip on her hair tightens. Your legs shake slightly, thighs trembling against Paige’s shoulders, but Paige just holds you tighter, determined to coax that second orgasm out of you.

Paige looks up as at you she works, her eyes locking onto yours, and the intensity in her gaze makes your stomach flip. There’s something about the way Paige watches you, the hunger and the focus in her eyes as she keeps going, her mouth and tongue relentless. It’s almost like Paige wants to commit this moment to memory, wants to own every second of your pleasure, every gasp, every moan.

Your head falls back against the pillow, chest heaving as you bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the sounds spilling from your mouth. But it’s useless—Paige is too good, her tongue too perfect, her fingers gripping your thighs just tight enough to ground you while her mouth sends you soaring.

You watch, mouth hanging open slightly in pleasure, as Paige pulls back a little. She smirks up at you, licking your slick off her lips, before her baby blues travel down to stare at your clit. She presses a soft kiss against it before pulling back once more, just enough to spit on that spot, her saliva dripping down onto your cunt. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head as Paige looks up at you once more, while her fingers slowly rub her spit into your skin, circling your clit, teasing your entrance before bringing them back up and around. “So fuckin’ perfect,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and full of awe as she looks up at you, her eyes gleaming with possessiveness. “So pretty, baby.”

You let out a soft whimper, your body trembling at the praise, the feeling of Paige’s fingers and mouth nearly sending you over the edge again. You barely have time to catch your breath before Paige adds, her voice even softer but dripping with ownership, “My pretty baby.”

And then her mouth returns, tongue lapping and working you over like she has something to prove. Her tongue moves in so many different ways, flicking and swirling and pressing in all the right places, and you almost feel like you’re losing your mind. Every nerve in your body is on fire, your senses overloaded with the feeling of your girlfriend’s mouth, her hands, her voice—just Paige.

Your back arches off the bed, fingers tugging desperately at Paige’s hair as the pressure inside you begins to build once again, impossibly fast, impossibly intense. “P—Paige,” you gasp, voice broken and breathless as you feel herself teetering on the edge again, your body trembling with the anticipation of release.

Paige doesn’t stop. Instead, she sucks. And sucks. And sucks. Her hands are steadying your shaking thighs as she keeps her in place, humming and moaning against you because she’s enjoying this just as much as you are. There’s a look of sheer determination on Paige’s face, her brows still furrowed in concentration as she makes you come undone beneath her.

It hits you all at once, the second orgasm slamming into you with the force of a freight train. Your vision blurs, your entire body convulsing as you come, a choked gasp escaping your lips as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. Paige keeps going, pushing you through it, her tongue moving in perfect sync with the spasms of your body.

“Fuck, Paige,” you whimper, your voice barely audible as you ride out your high, hands trembling as you hold onto the blonde for dear life. Your mind is hazy, your body completely spent, but Paige doesn’t stop until you finally still, your breathing ragged and uneven.

Finally, Paige pulls back, her lips and chin and nose glistening, her eyes full of pride as she looks up at you, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, crawling back up your body and collapsing beside you on the bed, her hand finding its way to your waist.

“See?” Paige whispers, her voice still low and a little breathless as she presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I knew you had at least one more in you.”

You raise your brows at her, still trying to catch your breath as you ask, “At least?”

Paige doesn’t answer, just grins a little as she leans in, going to kiss you, her hand moving to rest on your stomach. You kiss her back, palm lightly splayed across her cheek.

“I brought it,” Paige murmurs against your lips, surprising you. Her eyes flicker with that familiar gleam, that playful but intense fire.

Your breath hitches at the implication, your heart skipping a beat. Despite already coming twice, you feel a rush of need between your legs. “You did?” you ask with a tremor of anticipation.

“Mm-hm,” Paige hums, leaning in and spreading light kisses along your jawline, trailing them til her lips meet your ear. There, she whispers, “Will you let me fuck you with it?”

You feel your heart stutter at her words, the unmistakable want tainting her tone. You feel your body warm at the thought, and the need in your stomach turns molten. It doesn’t help that she’s sucking a spot on your neck now, one that will surely leave a mark. “Yeah,” you say breathily against her.

Paige pulls away from your neck as a grin breaks out across her features—wide, eager, and filled with anticipation. She stands up from the bed, crossing the room in a few quick strides to your bags. You watch her, heart pounding faster as she rummages through her duffle, finally pulling out the purple strap. Paige holds it up for a moment, letting it dangle in her hand, her eyes flicking back to you with a teasing smile before she begins to strip off her own clothes, tossing them aside with casual ease.

Paige stands there for a beat, completely bare, her toned body all lean muscle and curves, looking every bit the athlete she is. She takes her time putting the strap on, adjusting it around her hips, the purple of the toy standing out against her skin. Once she’s satisfied, she gives you this look—one that makes your breath catch again—before crawling back onto the bed.

Your body is practically buzzing with anticipation as Paige leans down and kisses you again, slowly this time, her lips soft but deliberate as they move against your own. There’s something almost tender about the way Paige kisses you, even though you can feel the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

“Ready?” Paige whispers against her lips, her hand brushing a path along your neck and up to your cheek, which she cups softly.

You nod, your heart racing, your body already aching for more. “Yeah,” you murmur, the words barely audible.

Paige smiles and, with careful deliberation, lines herself up, the tip of the strap pressing against your entrance. She’s slow at first, easing it in just enough for you to get used to the stretch. You feel your back arch off the bed a little as the toy begins to fill you, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. It’s big—Paige chose one that was just the right size to make you feel full, to give you that perfect stretch.

“Fuck,” you mutter, fingers curling into the bedsheets as Paige pushes in deeper, slow and steady, letting you adjust to the sensation. She watches you the entire time, her eyes flickering with something dark and intense, like she’s savoring every second of this.

“Feel good?” Paige asks, her voice low and almost too calm, given how worked up you are.

You can’t speak, can’t find the words, so you just nod, your breath coming out in short, shaky puffs as Paige finally pushes all the way in, filling you to the hilt. The fullness is almost too much, but it’s also perfect—the kind of pressure that has you teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain in the most intoxicating way.

Paige leans down again, her lips ghosting over yours as she begins to move, slow and careful thrusts that make your toes curl. “God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Paige mumbles, her voice dripping with praise as she picks up the pace, her hips moving just a little faster. “So tight around me, baby. You feel that?”

You let out a moan in response, your body rocking in time with each of your girlfriend’s thrusts. Paige’s words always get to you, always add to the heat building inside you, and right now, Paige is talking like she wants you to lose your mind.

“You take me so well,” Paige continues, and it comes out low and raspy as she thrusts a little harder, her hands gripping your hips for leverage. “Fuckin’ perfect. My perfect girl.”

Your breathing is beyond ragged now, and you’re trembling beneath Paige as the pressure builds higher and higher. Every thrust hits just right, pushing deeper inside you, filling you in ways that made her head spin. You swear you can feel the strap in your stomach at this point. “Paige—” you gasp, voice breaking as your hands grip Paige’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

The blonde doesn’t slow. If anything, she speeds up, her hips slamming into yours with a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars. “Fuck, you hear that?” Paige rasps out, a little breathlessly as she continues fucking you. She pauses her words for a moment, doesn’t say anything, letting the sound of your skin slapping against each other, the sound of Paige’s strap sliding in and out of your cunt, fill the room. “Listen to how wet you are. Shit, baby, that pussy’s so fuckin’ good.”

Your heart rate picks up, her words hitting you like a jolt of electricity. The wet sounds, the lewd praise—it’s all too much, too perfect. “Paige,” you whimper her name again, your nails digging into her skin as you shake with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Paige murmurs, her breath hot against your neck as she leans in, her movements becoming more deliberate, more purposeful. “My pretty girl. All mine. So fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. Look at you.”

Paige reaches down between you, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that send sparks shooting through your entire body. “Fuck!” you practically shout, hour body jolting at the added sensation. “Shit, P.”

Your whine has Paige’s movements becoming even more calculated, each thrust perfectly timed with the pressure she puts on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You’re moaning against her neck, almost sobbing into her skin, as she continues pounding into you relentlessly. In and out, in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over and over again.

“Come for me, baby,” Paige commands, pinching your clit and biting at the skin of your neck. “Come on. I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

The words send you spiraling, your body tensing as the pleasure hits you like a tidal wave. Your orgasm rips through you, and you practically convulse beneath Paige as your vision blurs, your moans loud and unabashed as you come, hard, trembling from head to toe with the intensity of it.

Paige keeps moving, riding it out for you, her hips slowing but still thrusting deep, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. “That’s it, baby,” she says lowly. She’s full of awe as she watches you fall apart beneath her. “Fuck, you’re so good. Always so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as the pleasure slowly subsides, your body limp and spent beneath Paige. You can still feel the strap inside you, the fullness of it grounding you as you tried to catch your breath.

Paige leans down, pressing a series of soft kisses along your forehead, her fingers still tracing light patterns on your skin. “You okay?” she asks softly, now full of gentleness and care and even concern.

You nod, still too breathless to speak, but the content smile on your face says it all. Paige kisses you again, slow and sweet, her hand resting on your cheek as she slowly pulls the strap out, easing you down from your high.

“Guess you could say you put that pussy on me,” she tells you jokingly, smiling against your lips.

You let out a tired laugh, slapping her ass lightly as you say, “Enough.”