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freshloveee · 4 days ago

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# CHRISTMAS LOVE

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

word count: 1735

warnings: none !

song: christmas love by ariana grande

summary: baking cookies for your niece and nephew makes your heart ache for a future with paige.

⭑ from lani - merry christmas and happy holidays ☺️ hope ygs are having a fun and safe winter season, however you choose to spend it. i love you all and i apologize for how late rushed and unedited this is LMFAO

masterlist !

"Y/N, WHERE'S THE remote?" you hear your girlfriend ask from her spot on the couch, "it's not in our box thing..."

you giggle watching her crawl on the floor to peek under the couch and nearly fall over trying to check the bookshelves.

"try between the cushions," you suggest, rolling small balls of cookie dough between your hands, "you might've sat on it earlier."

"me??" she freezes, turning around to gape at you dramatically, "you're the one who always forgets to put it back in our lil box!"

"right...it's not like you fall asleep halfway into movies with the remote trapped under your ass," you scoff with a laugh.

you watch as she grumpily mumbles something to herself once she finally locates the remote - most likely from in between the cushions like you had suggested.

as paige scrolls through various streaming services to find a suitable christmas movie for the night, you make your way over to the now-preheating oven to properly space out the balls of cookie dough.

you are trying to locate the red and green m&m's that you had just picked up from the store that morning when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your figure.

"hi," you smile warmly as paige responds by hugging you from behind tightly and nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck. the sweet action makes you take her hands into yours and lovingly brush your fingers against hers.

"you need help?" paige asks, pressing delicate kisses across your cheek and jawline.

"have you seen the m&m's i bought this morning? i swear i left them in here," you ask, trying to check each container and shelf in the cabinet, though paige is making it fairly difficult with her arms still snugly clasped around your waist.

"hmm..." she hums as she scans the space. she notices the bright-colored candy package behind a container. you halt your movements entirely when you feel the presence of your girlfriend's arm stretching over your head. your whole body felt tingly as she towered from behind you, “this the one?”

"yes, thank you," you smile turning around to place a light kiss on her cheek.

"oh come on," she groans, "what kinda kiss was that?"

you laugh as you walk back to your baking trays, "a cheek kiss?"

"nah, if you're gonna kiss me, you gotta do it properly," paige protests, walking over to you and placing a hand on your jaw to direct your gaze in her direction.

"if you help me with these cookies then maybe you'll get a little something," you smirk with a pat to her firm stomach.

"i gotchu, ma," she shrugs, rubbing her hands together, "these bouta be the best cookies you ever had."

"do you even know what to do?"

"uh-"

"right, you don't. so just hold your horses, put the rizz hands away, and let me show you first."

"yes ma'am," she says with a mock salute.

you inform paige of your system - how each cookie has to have the same number of chocolates and how each chocolate has to be placed in a specific pattern so that every bite is perfect.

"these are for my niece and nephew for tonight, so we have very harsh critics," you add, wiping your hands on a nearby towel.

"tonight?"

"mhm," you confirm, "my sister is gonna spend christmas at our parents' house while we go to your house, so i'm just gonna drop these off before they leave."

"can i go with you?"

"you want to?" you ask, slightly surprised.

"yeah, i love your niece and nephew. ellie and ethan, right?"

"right," you say, "you remember them?"

"i mean, it's been a while since i've seen them but yeah i remember."

"okay, well i'm leaving as soon as the cookies are done so they're fresh, is that okay?"

"'course," she smiles, "i'll drive."

you grin in response, your chest warm from paige's eagerness to see your family.

------

after a series of mistakes (including paige poorly trying to toss and catch m&ms in her mouth, her sprinkling powdered sugar in your hair, and nearly burning her hand in the oven), you were finally at your sister's cozy townhouse.

you were all scattered across the living room, chatting and catching up on the details of your lives. you rarely saw your sister due to her busy schedule, but every reunion felt like a breath of fresh air.

"y'know, the kids really miss you," your sister grins as she sips on a glass of red wine, "both of you."

"we miss them, too. i wish we could visit more often," you smile sadly.

"hey, if you ever need babysitters, just give us a call," paige offers from her spot on the floor. she was sitting criss-crossed with your niece, ellie, watching some episode of bluey on paige's phone.

"oh for sure," i agree happily, "anytime, seriously."

"i might have to take you up on that offer someday," she nods thoughtfully.

"paige, you wanna hand out our gift?"

she nods excitedly before gently placing ellie on the couch and jogging over to your tote bag containing the tupperware of cookies.

"ethan! ellie!" your older sister calls out, "auntie paige has a surprise for you!"

soon enough, the two children come running to the kitchen donning smiles of anticipation. paige then kneels on one knee in front of them, holding the container in her hands.

"okay," she starts with a low, serious voice, "this is a very important package from a special someone with a red suit and white beard. he delivered it to me this morning and he told me to pass it on to you two. think you can handle it?"

they both shout in affirmation, eager to find out what the surprise was. slowly, paige lifts the plastic lid, revealing the cookies you had baked a few hours earlier.

"chrimmy cookies!!!" ellie and ethan shout in unison as they observe the red and green m&m's embedded in the golden cookies.

they immediately grab the treats, double-fisting the "santa-delivered packages" with the brightest of smiles.

with their mouths full, they bear-hug paige, almost making her stumble back onto the floor, "thank you paigey!!!"

"you're very welcome," she says with a wide grin, "merry christmas, guys!"

she stands up, placing the tupperware on the counter and walking over to you. you had watched the entire interaction from the archway between the living room and kitchen, pure happiness evident on your face.

"'chrimmy cookies'?" paige asks you with a slight smirk and furrow of her eyebrows.

"what?" you laugh innocently, "is there a problem?"

"no ma'am," she shakes her head with a chuckle before pulling you close to her and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

you both watch as your sister tries to scold her children for eating so many cookies, but even she struggles to hide the smile on her face as she watches them jump with joy (or, more realistically, bounce off the walls with sugar).

after another hour of carefree laughs and hilarious stories, you and paige decided to head back to your apartment. however, it took about another twenty minutes just to get out of your sister's front door thanks to paige stalling the goodbyes.

when you got home, the sun was setting on the horizon and you had an urge to make hot chocolate, find a cheesy christmas movie, and snuggle up with paige on your couch.

before you could even think to ask paige what she thought about the idea, she practically read your mind.

"hot cocoa?" she asks, already digging through your cabinets to locate the packets of chocolate powder and bags of mini marshmallows.

"extra whipped cream on mine, please!" you call from the living room, already changed into a pink and white pajama set and buried in your chunky knit blanket.

"you're on movie duty," paige says as she rips open the nostalgic paper packaging of the sweet mixture, "anything but a hallmark, though. i might lose my shit if i have to watch another bullshit love confession."

"scrooge," you mutter as you exit out of a movie you had already chosen - hallmark, of course.

you ultimately decide on "home alone," knowing full well that it was paige's favorite christmas movie. giggling in excitement as if she were a little kid again, paige plops herself on the couch next to you, handing you a mug of hot chocolate (with a mountain of whipped cream, naturally).

the movie begins to play out, your tv showcasing the swarm of chaos in the mccallister home. the kids running around reminded you of your own niece and nephew when they received the cookies from paige, the recollection making you smile softly.

"you're so great with them, y'know," you mutter, leaning your head on her shoulder.

"with what?" paige asks, peering down at you, "hot chocolate?"

"no, dumbass," you say, smacking her stomach lightly, "ellie and ethan."

"oh, yeah?"

"yeah, i mean, they adore you. almost as much as they do me, but you're close enough."

"okay rude," she sasses, "i know you saw their faces light up when i gave them the cookies."

"'cus of the cookies, babe, not you."

"potato, patato," she dismisses with a wave of her hand, "y'know what i was thinkin', though?"

"hm?" you hum, half-focused on the movie in front of you.

"we'd make great moms one day," she whispers into your hair. her voice is quiet, gentle.

you lift your head from her shoulder, gazing directly into her blue eyes illuminated by the warm candlelight and soft tv glow. you saw sincerity and delicacy, but also hints of fear and nervousness.

you pull her towards you, kissing her deeply. your hand rests on her cheek, thumb lightly brushing against her soft skin.

"i agree," you mumble against her lips, "one hundred percent. i can't imagine doing it with anyone else."

the worry on her face seems to vanish, relief replacing it almost instantly, "i love you, baby. so much," she says into the kiss.

“i love you, too, paige,” you echo,

in response, she kisses you even harder than before, saying everything that needed to be said and more.

“now that’s a proper fucking kiss,” she mumbles, her hand finding your bare waist under your shirt.

“you’re so annoying,” you laugh as she pulls you onto her lap.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

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freshloveee · 13 days ago

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LEVii’S JEANS 👖 — PAZZi x READER

✐˚ ༘ WORD COUNT | 7.62k

✐˚ ༘ SYNOPSiS | you, azzi, and paige all model for levi’s jeans. while there, you have to be romantic and sexy, but not give away your actual relationship status. however, it’s hard to do this with each lingering gaze and touch that leaves your skin white hot. inspired by ‘levii’s jeans’ by beyoncé.

✐˚ ༘ WARNiNGS | smut, initial suggestiveness, obvious threesome, polyamory, semi-public sex? i didn’t wanna wait for them to get to a hotel. they’re supposed to be yearning for that cookie guys sawry. cunnilingus (a! recieving), scissoring (r! and paige), spit swapping, breast play, all of the things. they’re freaked out. praise kink lol

✐˚ ༘ MiMiS NOTES | i love anything pazzi x reader and i was rlly excited to explore this dynamic (>ᴗ•) enjoy, babes! this was my first time writing scissoring, so bear with me 🙁 excuse minor mistakes and errors, please. any live reactions or (reasonable) input is welcome! we hate silent readers (hate is strong, yet accurate). thank you for reading!

the studio smells like hot lights, new fabric, and coffee that’s been sitting too long. you shift your weight from one foot to the other as the production team circles, checking off boxes with the kind of sharp efficiency that says you’re already behind schedule.

you tug gently at the waistband of the high-rise levi’s you’ve been poured into, watching yourself in the mirror. they’re snug, perfectly tailored, hugging your hips like they were stitched in secret just for you. the cropped denim jacket they paired it with is vintage-cut, slightly stiff, sleeves rolled to your forearms. the stylist called it “edgy romantic.” you call it… dangerously fitted.

you glance toward the far end of the studio, where the big garage-style door just rolled open.

paige walks in first.

she’s already laughing about something, head thrown back, blonde hair tucked under a grey beanie. her jeans are low-slung, perfectly distressed. the kind of casual that takes effort to fake. a white ribbed tank clings to her frame, the black strap of a sports bra peeking out from underneath. she scans the room like she’s already bored.

then she sees you.

her smirk is instant. lazy. electric.

behind her, azzi follows, moving with a softer sort of energy. her jeans are a dark wash flare, paired with a denim corset top that does nothing to hide how well she wears it. her hair is slicked back into a braided ponytail, a tiny silver hoop catching the light when she turns.

you’re staring. you’re all staring.

it’s subtle—this magnetism between the three of you—but undeniable. and from the looks exchanged when you all greet each other, it’s not just in your head.

“we meet again,” paige says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. her lips ghost close to the corner of your mouth. “damn, you clean up.”

“you too,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the flush rising in your throat.

azzi smiles softly, wrapping you in a hug that lingers just a little too long. “ready to get into trouble?” her skin is warm and comforting against your own.

“aren’t we always, babe?” you murmur.

the shoot is being helmed by some art director from berlin who speaks in short, clipped sentences and gestures with both hands like the air itself will reshape around his vision. he wants warmth. edge. intimacy.

“the camera must believe you’ve known each other forever,” he says. “you are obsessed with each other. okay? good. action.”

you snort quietly. paige hears you and bumps your hip with hers.

“you hear that?” she whispers. “we’re obsessed.”

“maybe you are,” you shoot back.

her laugh is low, playful. “just wait.”

the first setup is simple—just the three of you leaning against an old jukebox, the background a haze of moody shadows and amber lighting. you’re in the center. paige is to your left. azzi to your right. the photographer adjusts your stance, nudges you closer together.

“y/n, chin up. azzi, soften the jaw. paige… closer.”

closer becomes touching.

paige slips a hand into your back pocket, fingers curling just under the curve of you. azzi rests her hand on your thigh, her thumb brushing absentminded circles as she leans in.

you feel like you’re being lit on fire in slow motion.

the camera clicks.

“again. slower breath. more heat.”

you’re not acting anymore. the room is too quiet. your skin is too aware of theirs. the denim creaks softly when you shift.

paige’s hand doesn’t move.

azzi’s touch lingers.

between takes, they don’t pull back.

paige whispers in your ear, voice almost conspiratorial. “you think he knows?”

“knows what?” you breathe.

“that i can feel your heartbeat through your jeans.”

you try not to shiver.

azzi glances at you from the side, her voice soft but direct. “you look good when you’re flustered.”

“i’m sweating goddamn bullets, z. to hell with looks,” you chime.

the next setup is more intimate.

a couch. low light. skin.

you’re seated in the middle again, but this time paige is half-lounging behind you, one arm draped across the back of the cushions like she’s ready to reel you in. azzi is sitting sideways on the floor between your knees, her elbow resting just above your ankle, her hand wrapping loosely around your calf.

the camera starts rolling for b-roll.

they want movement.

natural interactions.

paige brushes a loose strand of hair off your cheek. her fingers trail down, across your jaw, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch. she’s watching your lips.

azzi shifts, adjusting her position between your knees so her other hand can rest on your thigh, squeezing gently.

the simple movement sends a jab of lightning to your core, and you swallow the ball in your throat.

“playful,” the photographer says. “you’re teasing each other.”

oh, you are.

you laugh, and it’s too real. paige leans into your neck, teeth brushing just enough to make you jump. azzi glances up at you from below with a look that says she noticed.

“don’t forget we’re working,” you murmur, but it’s breathless.

“feels like foreplay,” paige says, grinning.

“isn’t it? i could spread her out right here.” azzi adds, her voice a whisper only you can hear.

your legs tense beneath her hand.

you’re grateful when they break for wardrobe changes. you need air. you need distance.

but you don’t get either.

the next outfit is even worse—or better, depending on how you look at it.

this time it’s black denim. tighter. lower. paired with sheer mesh tops and bralettes you’re told to pretend aren’t showing. the brand wants sex appeal, and they’re getting it in spades.

you walk out of the dressing area and catch azzi mid-laugh, paige sitting behind her on a trunk, legs spread. their eyes land on you at the same time.

paige’s jaw ticks.

azzi blinks slowly.

“holy shit,” paige says, standing. “who approved that look?”

“do we need to send a thank-you note?” azzi adds, stepping forward.

you laugh, trying to play it cool, but the way they both circle you—eyes dragging across your body, slow and appreciative—makes your whole body hum.

“focus,” you manage.

“we are,” paige says, her voice dropping. “entirely.”

they take their places beside you again. the set is built like a dive bar—neon signs, distressed leather stools, haze machines pumping out a low fog for “texture.”

you’re supposed to lean on the counter while they flank you, playing with sunglasses, sipping from fake whiskey glasses, talking with your eyes.

it gets dangerous fast.

paige leans in behind you, pressing her chest to your back, her breath warm in your ear.

“tell me what you’re thinking about,” she says.

you don’t answer, because azzi has stepped in front of you, both hands on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in. she smells like vanilla and something sharp.

her knee nudges between yours, a whisper of pressure.

“say it,” azzi murmurs.

you glance between them, then into the camera lens.

“this is a lot of foreplay for a denim ad,” you say.

the photographer grins. “exactly.”

hours pass like minutes. the shoot stretches long into golden hour. outfits change, but the dynamic stays the same—tension you could cut with a knife, chemistry that doesn’t need direction.

you’ve lost track of the moments that made your breath catch.

paige playing with your belt loop. azzi whispering something in your ear that made you blush so hard the makeup artist had to touch you up. the moment all three of you collapsed laughing on a vintage bed frame after a mistimed shot and stayed tangled longer than necessary.

and now, the final setup.

sunlight filters through the high studio windows. you’re all barefoot, sitting on a blanket of faded denim scraps. the vibe is soft. intimate. no makeup touch-ups. no direction. just the three of you.

“just talk,” the director says, stepping back. “just be.”

you’re sitting between them again—of course. paige is drawing lazy circles on your back with her finger, while azzi’s head rests on your shoulder, her hand tangled with yours.

no cameras. no lines. just the quiet space where something bigger is blooming.

paige speaks first, voice low.

“this is real, huh?”

you nod.

“it’s always been,” azzi says.

you tilt your head, resting it against hers. “what do we do after this?”

paige lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours. “whatever we want.”

azzi squeezes your hand.

the camera clicks once more.

but this shot’s not for the campaign.

this one’s for you. “i think we should have this one framed.” you say this before seeing the photo, but you just know it’s the one.

by the time the shoot wraps, the three of you are itching to get away and have your way with one another. but, not before you drag your feet over to the photographer. he seems to be enthralled by the photos and has sat down to really look at them.

you kneel next to him so that you’re at his eye level, and it’s not long before paige and azzi follow suit.

you smile, “can we see the last one, please? the picture we took on the scraps?”

he nods quickly and shifts his hands to hold the camera vertically, allowing all three of you to see it.

azzi’s hand rests on the small of your back, and paige’s chin is on your shoulder. you can hear both of them breathing heavily as their eyes cascade over the image.

your breath catches in your throat as you take in how raw and un-composed it looks, yet tender.

the photo is quiet.

sunlight filters through the tall warehouse windows in slanted beams, painting warm stripes across your skin and catching the soft edges of frayed denim beneath you. the scraps are a mess of textures—faded blue threads, dark indigo patches, seams with stories stitched into them. it’s not posed. it’s not styled. it’s just you three, tangled and effortless.

you’re seated cross-legged, barefoot, jeans riding low on your hips from the long day. azzi is curled into your right side, her head tucked into the curve of your shoulder, her braid draped across your thigh like a ribbon. her lashes brush your skin every time she blinks, and one of her hands is laced quietly with yours, fingers resting over your knee.

paige is behind you, half-leaning, half-draped, her arm slung across your back, hand resting over your ribs like she’s grounding herself in the rise and fall of your breath. her cheek is pressed to your shoulder blade, her eyes closed, a soft little smile tugging at her mouth like she just heard something only the three of you would understand.

the photo catches that in-between moment—your eyes not quite closed, your lips parted like you were about to say something, or maybe just exhale. the kind of softness that can’t be styled. the kind of intimacy that slips past the lens when no one’s looking.

your bodies touch in casual, practiced ways—like it’s normal to hold each other like this, to exist in the warmth of denim and bare skin and something that feels a lot like love.

it isn’t sexy in the traditional sense.

but it’s undeniably intimate.

you don’t need direction.

you just are.

“that’s beautiful,” you murmur under your breath.

azzi hums, “baby, we’re beautiful. i mean, look at you!”

you lean away and thank the camera man with another smile as everyone begins to disperse.

he gives a curt nod and a “beautiful couple.”

the phrase strikes your ears like something you never should’ve heard. something like a sharp and bitter note on a piano.

you blush as you exchange looks with paige and azzi. but of course, you can’t fool the visionary.

the crew starts to bustle again—packing lights, unplugging cords, offering water bottles and half-hearted compliments—but it’s all background noise.

because something’s still humming between the three of you.

paige stands first, stretching her arms over her head, the hem of her tank riding up enough to show the toned line of her stomach. she catches you looking. doesn’t hide the smirk.

azzi pushes up beside you, her palm grazing your thigh as she rises. she lingers there, her fingers curling gently into the denim before sliding away. her eyes stay locked on yours for half a beat longer than necessary.

you swallow hard and force yourself to stand.

the walk back to the dressing room is short.

but it feels like forever.

paige brushes past you as you enter, her fingers skating across your lower back as she moves toward her rack of clothes. the touch is light. intentional.

azzi trails behind, silent, her gaze dark and unreadable. she closes the door behind her.

now it’s just the three of you.

quiet.

close.

the room is small—mirrored walls, racks of designer denim, little stools littered with boots and half-empty bottles of evian. it smells like perfume and cotton and something warmer, more human. like sweat under stage lights. like tension that hasn’t been released.

paige peels off her beanie and tosses it onto the counter, running a hand through her hair. “that was fun.”

you raise an eyebrow. “just fun?”

“okay,” she says, turning toward you with a grin. “maybe also hot as hell.”

“you think they could tell?” azzi asks, voice soft, like a secret. she’s unbuttoning her corset top, her back to the room, but her eyes flick toward you in the mirror.

you’re wishing you could unbutton it for her.

you meet her gaze and shrug, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. “felt obvious.”

paige steps in behind you again—closer this time. her body is heat at your back, her breath brushing the nape of your neck. she doesn’t touch you. not yet.

“good,” she says. “i wanted it to feel obvious.”

you inhale, slow and shaky.

azzi turns, her corset now loose in her hands, revealing smooth skin and the edge of her strapless bra. she sets the denim aside and walks toward you without breaking eye contact.

“did it work?” she asks. “did we sell the chemistry?”

you nod, but your voice is caught somewhere in your chest.

“you sure?” she teases, stepping close enough that you feel her thigh brush yours.

your heart stutters. “i’d like to think so.”

you can feel paige behind you.

azzi in front of you.

boxed in by heat and denim and that kind of tension that has no exit plan.

paige’s voice is barely above a whisper now, lips just behind your ear. “you’re blushing.”

you close your eyes. “maybe i’m warm.”

“maybe we should do something about it,” azzi says, her hand rising to the hem of your jacket. “cool you off?”

she doesn’t pull.

not yet.

but she’s there.

paige’s fingers finally find your hip, slipping under the edge of your jeans. just enough to make you tilt.

you don’t know who’s going to move first.

your eyes dart from the leather couch behind azzi and back to her eyes. but then, you peer at her glistening skin, that shined under the sun-like lights of the vanity.

her strapless bra looks like it’s slipping a bit, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking down the canal between her breasts.

for a moment you let your eyes rake over her body. rough, yet soft, bare abs and low-rise jeans that made you wonder what lied beneath them.

and at that point, you’d made up your mind.

your hands grip her hips in excitement as you rush her to the couch. the backs of azzi’s knees hit the surface as you continue to push, and she falls back with a yelp.

you hear paige chuckle, but you don’t think much of it. you’re focused on azzi right now. without any words, you straddle her, one leg on each side of her.

azzi looks up at you wide-eyed and impressed, a smile playing on her lips. “switching positions now, huh?”

you scoff, “the both of you have been teasing me since we got here. i want my turn. and i don’t wanna wait until we get to some nice, pristine hotel that we’re going to mess up. i want it here, and i want it now.”

azzi’s tongue pokes at her cheek, her eyes narrowing with whimsy. “you’re kinda long-winded for someone who’s so eager, don’t you think?”

“yeah,” paige taunts you from behind. you can hear the smirk in her tone. “show me something.”

they’re getting under your skin, and they’re well aware of it. milking it, even.

for as long as you three have been together, they’ve been the dominant ones, and you’ve been their good girl. the one who begged and pleaded for her release and gave thanks at the end of the night.

in passing, you’d talked about wanting to be more dominant, but they brushed it aside. paige and azzi liked having the power to unravel you and make you turn into putty. but, you wanted more. you wanted your turn to be in control.

you huff at her words, but you know that the both of them are right. you do talk too much.

your eyes settle on azzi again, whose hands inch up to your waist— but you smack them away. “hands off.”

she rolls her eyes, still not taking you seriously, “aye, captain.”

you ignore her and instead focus on your end goal. make azzi scream your name.

you lean in and let your lips brush against hers. each little swipe is tantalizing, but not enough to make her chase you just yet.

your mouth just barely brushes hers—once, then again, a breath of hesitation between touches. her lips are soft, tasting faintly of mint and something sweeter, something her. she lets you lead, lets you explore, her hand sliding up to rest lightly on your waist, grounding you.

when you deepen it, just a little, her fingers tighten.

just when you know she’s deep into it, you smack her hands away. you almost feel bad about it, but you know you can’t. there’s a groan in her throat.

she sighs into you—quiet, content—and you swear the sound slips straight down your spine.

the kiss lingers. not rushed. not greedy.

just slow.

intimate.

the kind of kiss that says i’ve wanted this without needing to say anything at all.

when you finally pull back, her eyes flutter open, half-lidded, dazed. she smiles—barely there, but real.

feeling bold, you praise her: “good girl, baby.”

it almost feels unnatural on your tongue and foreign. like a swear word you shouldn’t say in front of your mom.

azzi beams up at you.

the first kiss still hums on your lips—soft, careful, like pages turning in slow motion. but now, azzi’s eyes are fixed on yours, wide and wanting, her chest rising in measured breaths, and something in you clicks into place.

you’re done holding back.

your hand finds her waist again, but this time with more intent, pulling her in until there’s no space left between your bodies. your other hand comes up to cradle her jaw, your thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth, a silent i’m taking you with me.

and azzi—god, azzi just melts for it.

her lips part without question, her hands sliding up your arms like she’s trying to ground herself in the shape of you. she doesn’t rush you. she doesn’t guide you.

you have to smack them away, yet again. you bite down on her bottom lip, this being her last warning.

azzi gasps into your mouth, the sensation sending shocks up her spine.

you kiss her again—deeper this time.

not frantic, but sure.

your mouth claims hers with quiet fire, confident in the way you press forward, your hips angling just slightly, just enough to make her breath catch. your tongue grazes hers, slow and searching, and she sighs into your mouth like she’s been waiting for this exact version of you to show up.

her fingers find the hem of your shirt, bunching the fabric as her body presses closer. she’s kissing you back, yes, but not taking control—just following your rhythm, letting you decide how far and how fast.

it’s heady.

it’s real.

you grind your hips down against hers, a familiar feeling pulsing between your legs. you want to just transfer that feeling to azzi.

you drag your hand away from her lips and instead down her body. past the jewelry gleaming on her neck, down her breastbone, traverse those diamond cut abs, and between her legs.

your left hand cups her jaw, forcing her to look up at you and nowhere else. not at the wall, not at the oscillating ceiling fan, not at paige. you.

your right does the heavy lifting, swiping over her jean-covered pussy. your digits travel down and perpendicular to the couch, before you drag your hand back up. as you do so, you let the heel of your hand press down against her clit.

azzi takes a deep breath in at the pressure and her hips buck up in response.

you can still hear the sound of paige shuffling in the back, but you don’t pay her any mind.

you shake your head in mockery. “not yet, baby.”

azzi’s face visibly falls, and you have to keep yourself from laughing. leaning in, you give light kisses to her jawline. each one is carefully placed, you know the sensations of your lips linger.

when you reach the edge of her jaw, just beneath her ear, you pause.

you kiss her there, soft and slow, then again—mouth open now, tongue flicking the skin just barely.

her knees nearly buckle, even while sitting.

then you move higher.

your lips find the shell of her ear, warm and flushed, and you kiss it like it’s something sacred. a quiet moment. a private promise. she shivers, full-body, and when you breathe against the spot just behind her earlobe, her fingers dig into your sides.

this time, you don’t stop her. you let her have something.

you smile against her skin.

“you’re so easy to read,” you whisper, voice low, teasing.

azzi’s laugh is breathless, shaky. “and you’re dangerous.”

her words give you so much satisfaction in itself. you just wanted her to say it.

you kiss her again—right behind her ear this time—and she gasps.

“say that louder,” you murmur. “i like how it sounds.”

her hands slide up your back, gripping tighter, her body already giving in.

as much as you want to relish in her touch, you can’t. you peel away from her lap entirely so that you stand.

without words, you drop to your knees and shift so that you’re comfortably between her long, bronze legs.

your hands tug at the silver button of her jeans and draw down the zipper. you’re impatient as you pull them down her hips. the sight of the black lace thong on makes your blood run cold, but you have to bring yourself back to earth.

“is that new?” you mutter, eyes flickering between it and your hands.

you continue pulling the thick, high quality jeans down. azzi thrusts up to make it easier on you.

“they’re from my collab with fenty,” azzi chimes. “just decided to wear them today.”

you hum gruffly, tugging the jeans aggressively. when they’re finally off, you throw the across the floor and turn your attention back to azzi.

your eyes rake over her toned legs, drinking them in. you’ve always adored how toned they are, a representation of all the hours she put into the gym.

“you look unreal in them,” you hum. you pull her legs apart, letting the right one fall and the left rest on your shoulder. you lean in, resting your head again her leg gingerly. ��you been hiding ‘em from me?”

azzi reaches up to thread her fingers through your hair, lacing a strand between her index and thumb. “never,” she denies. “just saving them for a good time.”

scoffing, you place your lips to her inner thigh. you let them sit, burning into her skin. “you’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

you place yet another kiss, but pull away with a swiftness. the sensation tingles, making her leg twitch on your shoulder. her breath catches in her throat, and you don’t miss the way her fingers tighten slightly in your hair.

“you can’t just—” she starts, but you cut her off with a pointed look.

“i can, and i will,” you smirk. “you said you were saving them for a good time… i’m just making sure the time’s unforgettable.”

azzi exhales hard, the edge of a laugh caught somewhere between anticipation and disbelief. “you talk big,” she teases, her voice barely above a whisper, “but all you’ve done is kiss me twice and run.”

you arch a brow, playful. “oh, so now you’re counting?”

“someone has to. you like to take your time.”

you grin, leaning in again, but this time you don’t kiss her. you just let your lips hover, breath warm against her skin, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter.

paige has settled into a chair, watching the show. you would humor her, but she’s get her turn when the time came.

“i like to earn my reactions,” you whisper.

and from the way azzi shifts under your hold—hips twitching, breath shaky—you know you’re already halfway there.

you drag your lips up her legs, the scent of the baby oil on her skin going to your head. the digits of each of your hands brush the outsides of her thighs, touching everywhere except where she needs you.

you glance up at her, watching the way her chest rises and falls, the way her eyes stay locked on you like she’s daring you to keep going. your grip tightens slightly, grounding her.

you take her dare and travel even farther up north, your breath finally wafting over her core. you can smell her arousal— it’s sweet, yet musky.

boldly, you place one kiss approximately above her clit.

azzi groans, and you smile up at her, cheshire cat-style. you love seeing her squirm and want for your touch as much as she does.

“what’s next, baby?” you chime, your tone is sickeningly innocent— soft.

“you know,” she answers.

you raise an eyebrow, “do i? i think you should use your words, babe.”

azzi’s lips form a thin line, her tongue darting out to lick them. her chest rises with a shaky inhale, eyes flickering with that familiar mix of challenge and need. “don’t play dumb,” she breathes, voice low and strained. “you know exactly what i want.”

you hum, pretending to think, fingers brushing light circles into the skin just above her knee. “hmm. maybe,” you whisper, dragging the word out. “but it sounds so much better when you say it.”

azzi groans again, this time with a hint of frustration, hips tilting just enough to nudge against you. “i want your mouth,” she finally says, the words rushed and almost desperate. “please.”

you grin wider, pride blooming in your chest at how quickly she’s unraveling. “there she is,” you coo, dipping your head again, lips grazing her skin like a promise. “you always sound so pretty when you beg.”

and without another word, you give her exactly what she asked for.

easily, you pull the thin strip of fabric covering her away, not bothering to take the entire thing off. your tongue prods her clit, sending shocks up her spine. you know she’s sensitive, and it makes you want to go harder.

azzi lets out a sharp breath, still not letting go of your hair.

you flick your tongue back and forth over the bundle of nerves, rocking her clit back and forth. you let go of her hand to pull the hood back, and give you free reign.

azzi’s breathing accelerates and she bites down on her lips as to hold in her moans. before you can interject, paige does. “you can be as loud as you want to, baby.”

azzi’s eyes flicker down to yours, asking for permission without words. her eyebrows furrow and sweat marks her hairline. you nod, loving that she even thought to ask you first.

you send firm and fast kitten licks to her clit, tongue occasionally swiping at her entrance. “ o-oh, fuck!”

deciding to move down, you begin to fuck azzi with your tongue and let your nose prod her clit. it’s warm, wet, and sloppy— just how you like it.

paige steps up behind you, sending a smack to your rear. you yelp and jump as it catches you off guard, sending your face further into azzi’s pussy.

the mere vibration sends shocks up azzi’s spine. her slick covers the tip of your nose as you continue to prod, your tongue fishing inside of her honey pot.

pulling away, you lap at her clit again, rolling your tongue against it’s surface. azzi moans out, her breathing ragged.

you’re caught between azzi and paige now, and it’s not long before paige gathers your hair at the crown of your head. she yanks it lightly, another moan escaping your throat this time.

“good shit, baby,” paige praises you. she’s taken a knee, her breath eerily close to your ear. her tongue darts, playing with the cartilage. she takes little nibbles, and the heat of the slick muscle gives you chills. “eat her pussy like you love it.”

and god, you do. it takes everything in you to not just lean into paige and let her have her way with you, but you still have a duty to fulfill.

you gather azzi’s clit in between your lips and suck on it, the motion similar to that of sucking on a lollipop.

you groan, “tastes so good..”

azzi’s legs begin to cave in around your head, and as her chest begins to rise and fall at a faster rate, you know she’s almost there.

you get into it, slightly laying your head against her thigh. your head moves with each stroke.

the final swipe of your tongue sends azzi into oblivion, her hands grasping at her tits as she processes her pleasure. you let her ride out her high, flattening your tongue against her pussy and lapping up the last bits of her sweet nectar.

her head falls back against the couch, seemingly exhausted. you smile to yourself. you get up from your knees to lean over azzi. your hand grips her jawline, bringing her lips to meet yours. the kiss is soft and comforting, yet you’re still staking your claim over azzi.

you mutter against her lips, “you did so good for me, pretty girl.”

azzi smiles into the kiss, arms engulfing your waist as she pulls you close. “surprised you had it in you.”

the oxygen catches in your throat at her words and paige behind you copping a feel of your ass. it seemed like she wanted her turn and she was getting impatient.

“bet i could do better,” paige grumbles, watching as you show azzi affection.

“sure,” you hum, deliberately trying to piss her off. “what do you think, z?”

azzi purses her lips and smiles to herself. “can’t say.”

with a pointed roll of your eyes, you slowly slide off azzi’s lap and turn around on your knees to face paige, still perched between azzi’s legs. you reach for paige’s hoodie and tug her closer.

“wanna show me?”

paige doesn’t blink. she looks down at you with those icy blue eyes and the kind of confidence that makes your stomach flip.

“don’t let your ego get too big,” she says, crowding into your space, her hand finding the small of your back like she’s already staking her claim.

azzi leans back slightly, watching you both now like it’s her favorite show. “mm,” she murmurs. “i do love when she talks like that.”

you let paige’s words settle in the air between you, but you don’t flinch. instead, you reach up and curl your fingers into the front of her hoodie, tugging her down until your faces are only inches apart.

“careful,” you whisper, voice thick with heat. “you forget who’s really in control here.”

paige’s smirk falters just slightly, the shift in her eyes enough to tell you you’ve hit that nerve she keeps so well-guarded. azzi feels it too—her hands smooth up your sides as she exhales slowly, settling in for the show.

“you think you’re gonna handle me?” paige murmurs, breath hot against your lips, cocky on the surface—but her fingers twitch at her sides.

you lean forward, just barely brushing your lips against hers. not a kiss. a warning.

“no,” you whisper, dragging your teeth along her jaw, “i know i can.”

paige shivers, and that’s when you take full control.

you press your palm flat against her chest and push—slow, steady—until she’s sitting back on her heels, legs splayed in front of you on the dock. you climb off azzi’s lap completely and straddle paige now, knees bracketing her thighs, hips flush against hers.

paige looks up at you, breath caught, lips parted. beneath all that bravado, she’s already melting for you.

“still wanna compete?” you ask, tilting your head, grinding down just enough to make her suck in a sharp breath.

azzi laughs softly behind you, amused and turned on. “baby’s got her right where she wants her.”

paige grits her teeth, but she doesn’t fight it. she grips your thighs, holding on like she needs the anchor.

“maybe i like it when you take charge,” she mutters, voice hoarse.

you smile down at her, triumphant, as you lean in close and kiss her hard—nothing gentle, all fire and possession.

“then behave,” you murmur, lips brushing hers, “and maybe i’ll be nice.”

you hover just above her, your breath mingling with hers, letting the tension stretch long enough to make her squirm. one hand lifts to her jaw, fingers tracing the edge of it slowly, deliberately, like you’re memorizing her shape all over again.

her eyes flicker to your lips—hungry, impatient—but she doesn’t move. she won’t give you the satisfaction of asking.

good. you wanted her right here—still, waiting, aching.

you tilt your head and lean in, slow enough to make her crazy, your mouth brushing hers with the barest ghost of a touch. soft, taunting. like a dare.

“say please,” you whisper, your thumb dragging across her lower lip.

paige exhales like she’s surrendering the last of her pride. her fingers grip your thighs tighter.

“please,” she breathes.

that’s when you kiss her. deep, claiming, no hesitation. it’s not sweet—it’s control. your lips move with intent, tongue sweeping into her mouth like it belongs there. and it does. she opens for you like instinct, like habit, like need.

and when you finally pull back, her lips are kiss-swollen, eyes glassy, and your name’s about to spill off her tongue again.

blood rushes to the blonde’s face, paige being quickly humbled.

your fingers drift down the front of paige’s torso, slow and unhurried, watching the way her chest rises beneath your touch. you don’t rush—this part is yours. the claiming. the peeling back of all that bravado she hides behind.

she watches you, eyes heavy, lips parted like she’s holding her breath.

“arms up,” you murmur, voice quiet but firm.

she obeys without a word, and you tug the wife pleaser over her head, your knuckles brushing her sides as you do. the fabric falls to the floor with a soft thud, and you let your eyes linger on the smooth line of her shoulders, the way the warm light kisses her collarbones.

“you always look this good underneath everything,” you say, and her gaze flickers, cheeks flushing just slightly.

you ease the tank top over her head next, slow and teasing, baring more of her to the crisp air. she’s all muscle and softness, tension and surrender. you kiss just beneath her throat once the fabric’s gone, letting your lips linger there.

behind you, azzi’s hands press gently against your hips, grounding you.

“don’t tease her too much,” she whispers, even though her voice is laced with something close to awe.

but you’re not teasing—you’re memorizing.

paige blinks up at you, bare now, vulnerable in a way she rarely shows anyone.

“you’re beautiful,” you tell her.

and this time, she doesn’t argue.

wordlessly, you pull away from paige. you miss the warmth of her skin against yours, but there’s no time to whine about it.

under paige’s drunken gaze and azzi’s hungry eyes, you begin your striptease.

“since you two seem to like putting on a show,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, “i figured i’d give you one.”

azzi bites her lip, eyes trailing over you like she’s already undoing you herself.

your hands find the hem of your top, and you roll it up inch by inch, making sure they catch every shift, every slow reveal of skin. the sheer fabric slips over your head and flutters to the carpet like it knows it’s done its job.

the bralette underneath is lace, barely-there, and you hear azzi exhale behind you, like she just had the wind knocked out of her.

you hold their eyes as your fingers move to the button of your jeans. you toy with it for a moment, not rushing. just letting anticipation coil tighter and tighter between you.

“you gonna keep watching,” you ask, tone light but dripping with heat, “or are one of you gonna help?”

paige shifts, like she’s ready to move, but azzi touches her wrist, stopping her.

“let her finish,” azzi says, her voice low and reverent. “she’s doing it just right.”

you smirk, then slowly slide the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet night. your hips move with a lazy rhythm as you push the jeans down—inch by inch—until they sit low on your thighs, then fall to your ankles.

you step out of them, standing there in just the bralette and a pair of black panties, letting the cool air lick over your skin, letting them look.

paige’s hips squirm and jolt, and you know exactly what’s happening between her thighs. you stalk back over, ignoring the ache between your own.

instinctively as you stand over her, her long legs spread. paige is aching for any kind of stimulation.

“y’gonna take these off for me, baby?” you murmur lowly, running a hand up and down her inner thigh. you glance down at her own jeans, raising an eyebrow.

she nods eagerly, scrambling to pull the thick fabric down past her hips and down her legs. the denim rustles in your ears and you’re squirming just a bit— ready to dive back in.

they fall at her feet, and paige peers up at you, black boxers still on.

you hook your fingers in the waistband of her boxers, tugging just enough to make her hips jump. your voice drops again, rough with need. “these too, pretty girl.”

paige bites her bottom lip, eyes locked on yours as she slides them down slow, teasing. the tension hangs thick in the air, your breath catching when she kicks then the rest of the way down and sits there, bare and waiting, like she’s offering herself to you without a single word.

you drag your gaze up her body, every inch more mesmerizing than the last. “look at you,” you whisper, leaning in, one hand bracing against the wall behind the couch. “so ready for me.”

she shivers when your fingers ghost along her hipbone, and her voice is barely a breath. “been ready.”

your lips curl into a smirk, and you close the distance, claiming her mouth in a kiss that starts slow but deepens quickly, like all the restraint in the room is unraveling with every second. her hands find your waist, clutching at your shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

the heat between you two is electrifying, and you know azzi is itching to jump in. there’s a sliver of space between your body and paige’s. before you get the chance to close it, azzi reaches in.

her long and slender fingers slide through paige’s folds, causing her to moan into your mouth. jolts are sent up her spine as she arches into you.

you huff, taking the initiative to suck on her tongue. it’s sloppy, yet tantalizing and you’ll take anything you can get.

with your lips still tangled up, you tug at your own panties, swiftly pulling them down. you feel the cold sliminess of your pre-cum on the insides of your thighs as well.

you let azzi continue to assist you and keep paige warm. she lets her hand swipe up paige’s chest and under her sports bra. azzi tugs it up, letting each mound free.

a heavy groan got trapped in paige’s throat, azzi’s digits tugging at paige’s pebbling nipples and lips kissing up and down her neck.

you pull away from paige, but not before giving her a peck. she chases your lips, not quite ready for you to let go.

you hoist up her right leg and over your shoulder. you sling your own left leg over hers, slotting yourself in between her extremities.

your pussy hovers over hers teasingly. the pull almost feels magnetic. you bring paige into another kiss in conjunction with slamming your cunt into hers.

that first connection is like electricity, or when you finally get to scratch an itch that’s been tingling for an hour.

you hiss through your teeth, grinding down onto paige. her head falls back against the couch at the pleasure, eyes fluttering.

azzi’s right hand runs up and down your thigh, giving you chills.

the second bout is where you find your rhythm. you roll your hips again. the sound is sticky like syrup yet so addictive.

your hand finds the back of paige’s neck, forcing her to look at you. “open your eyes, baby.”

“‘mm— i’m trying,” paige mumbles lazily, eyebrows furrowed.

you give a stroke each second, your titties bouncing and fatigue settling in your thighs. but something just won’t let you quit.

the warmth between your pussies is so comforting. you glance down for a second, taking in the slippery sight and skin-on-skin.

you lean forward to kiss paige again, your tongue slapping against your hers. when you pull away, she sticks her tongue out and you raise your eyebrow.

she’s never done this before.

you snap out of your thoughts and give paige what she wants. you let a drop of saliva fall from your mouth and onto the muscle. never breaking eye contact, she swallows and you swear you’ve just seen heaven.

and right when you’re on the cusp of cumming, azzi presses plenty of kisses to your shoulder blade.

“gonna cum with me, baby? like the good girl you are?” you speak through your own moans. you play with paige’s right tit, kneading it in hand.

pre-cum leaks from her pussy and down onto the couch. azzi’s finger swipes just below the orifice. the substance coats her digit as she brings it to her mouth and sucks on it. she hums in content.

“god,” paige groans. “you’re both so sexy.”

you feel your climax building and every move now is you chasing it out of desperation. you know paige is nearly there too, as her breathing becomes rushed.

each heave is tired and she’s just ready for her sweet release.

you maintain your pace as your toes curl. each bit of stimulation is needed— your hunger itself is carnal. you’re tired and sweaty and eager, but you can’t stop.

paige’s body convulses beneath your own as she finally cums, silent moans escaping. she mewls as her vision becomes spotty.

your rubberband snaps and you follow suit soon after, falling over and moaning into her neck. the feeling of the fatigue in your thighs, the burning in your abs, and your climax combined in a triple threat.

the both of you ride out your high as you catch your breath, and paige wraps her arms around you.

azzi chuckles to herself, enjoying the sight.

paige cradles you, running a hand up and down your bad. “tried to be the dom and tired herself out,” she snickers.

you can’t even bring yourself to roll your eyes.

“she did good,” azzi chimes.

you hum lowly to say thanks.

“baby,” paige mutters. “you can’t fall asleep here, we gotta go home.”

azzi waves her off, “let her rest. we’ll take care of her.”

before paige can give a rebuttal, there’s a knock on the door of the dressing room door. paige cusses to herself.

all three of you are naked with someone waiting at the door. there’s a moment of silent communication between paige and azzi with their eyes.

well i can’t answer the door, i’m holding her!, paige’s eyes say.

azzi scoffs and pulls on your discarded jeans and paige’s tank top. she stalks over to the door and slowly opens it, allowing her head to peek out of the crack.

on the other side of the door is one of the on-set assistants, an 8x11 yellow envelope in hand.

azzi’s voice is suddenly sickeningly sweet. “hey, what’s up?”

“i’ve got that photo for you guys, the one y/n requested.” he passes it off to azzi with a small, but polite smile.

“thank you,” the brunette smiles genuinely. “she loves this one.”

“yeah, so does the photographer,” he agrees. “have a great rest of your night.” he begins to step away, but not before azzi stops him.

“do you think it’s possible that you could get us some hoodies and sweatpants?”

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