#This game...has been a wild ride | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pascalispimp · 2 months ago

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Whiskey Bent and Heaven Bound

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: She’s been riding his nerves for years, but when she waltzes into his bar in that little dress, pushing every damn button, Joel’s patience snaps. One jealous glare, one bar fight, and one heated moment against his truck later—he’s finally got his hands on the one thing he was never supposed to have. She may be forbidden, but tonight, she’s his to break.

Warnings: 18+ afab and fem reader, p in v sex, dbf fic, unspecified age gap, no description of reader but has big boobs and ass, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex, oral (f! receiving), creampie, degradation, praise kink.

Word count: 3.5k

Joel Miller had never been a patient man.

Life had never given him the luxury of it. He had worked with his hands since he was young, learned early on that the world didn’t give second chances. He was a man of discipline, a man who knew how to keep his head down and his wants buried.

But she was making it damn near impossible.

She had been a teenager the first time he met her, trailing after her father, all wide eyes and laughter, running barefoot in the summer heat. He had watched her grow up, watched her turn into the kind of woman who could bring a man to his knees.

And now, she was back.

Older. Smarter. Dangerous.

She had always been off-limits. The daughter of his best friend, the one woman in the world he had no right to want. But she was making it impossible not to want her.

It had been easy to tease him, to poke at that ironclad patience of his and see ifshe could get a reaction. A lingering touch here, a too-sweet smile there. Watching the way his jaw clenched every time she called him Mr. Miller in that honeyed voice just to watch his ears turn red.

But no matter how much she pushed, Joel never broke.

Miller’s was packed, bodies moving, voices loud, music twanging through the air.

Joel had been behind the bar all night, pouring drinks, barely listening to the conversations around him. He had been doing a good job of keeping his mind on work, on anything but her.

Until she walked in.

The air seemed to shift, a pull in his gut that made his grip tighten around the glass in his hand.

And then he saw her.

That pretty little dress clung to her, the hem swaying just high enough to make his throat go dry. The cowboy boots only made it worse, giving her the perfect mix of sweet and wild, like she belonged there, like she wasn’t trying at all.

Except he knew she was. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her gaze found his across the room, and a slow smile curved her lips.

His gaze dragged over her, slow and deliberate, before snapping back up to her face. He looked pissed.

Good.

Smiling to herself, she let her friends pull her toward the bar, where Joel was still watching, still brooding. She leaned against the counter, resting her elbows on the wood, waiting for him to say something.

He didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed a glass and poured her a drink, sliding it across the bar without a word.

“Not gonna say hello?” she teased.

Joel kept his gaze on the glass in her hands. “You ain’t supposed to be in here.”

She tilted her head. “Since when?”

“Since you started struttin’ around like you want trouble.”

She let out a soft hum, dragging her fingers along the rim of the glass he had just poured for her. “Maybe I do.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

She was doing it again—pushing, testing, seeing how far she could go before he snapped.

“Not tonight,” he muttered.

“Not tonight what?”

His jaw clenched even harder, his teeth grinding.

She leaned in just a little, voice soft, sweet, coaxing. “You don’t like my dress, Mr. Miller?”

Joel exhaled sharply. “You think this is a game?”

Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to grin. Joel had to look away before he did something stupid, something reckless.

Like pull her across the damn bar and show her exactly how much he liked that dress.

The night carried on, the bar growing louder as the drinks flowed. She was laughing with her friends, sipping her whiskey slow, when she felt it—

A hand.

Not Joel’s.

Rough fingers slid along her lower back, dipping too low, too familiar. She tensed, turning sharply to find a man standing too close, grinning like he had a right to touch her.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he slurred, breath heavy with beer.

She moved to step back, but he caught her wrist, holding on just tight enough to make her stomach twist.

“Let go,” She said, voice cool.

He laughed. “Aw, don’t be like that.”

Then, all at once, he was gone.

Yanked back so hard he stumbled, nearly falling on his ass.

Joel.

He was furious.

She had never seen him like this, not even when he was arguing with her dad about football scores or fixing some busted-up truck in the heat of summer. This was different.

Dangerous.

His hand was wrapped around the man’s wrist, squeezing so tight she could see the strain in his forearm.

“I told you,” Joel said, voice low, steady, lethal. “Get your goddamn hands off her.”

The man tried to laugh it off, but Joel yanked him forward just enough to make his breath hitch.

“You touch her again, I will break your fuckin’ hand.”

Dead silence.

The man swallowed, eyes darting around the room, looking for anyone who might step in. But no one did.

They knew better than to cross Joel Miller.

He let go, shoving the guy backward. “Get the hell out of my bar.”

The man didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t even look at her again. Just turned and left, tail tucked between his legs. And then Joel turned to her.

“Outside. Now.”

"Lets go," he barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the bar like a knife. The other men gathered around her table with protested, but Joel's icy glare sent them retreating faster than a coyote with its tail between its legs. She was still taken aback by his sudden aggression, but didn't struggle as he practically dragged her out of the bar and to his truck.

He didn’t stop until they reached his truck, the metal cool against her back as he crowded into her space.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he growled.

Her pulse was racing, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I wasn’t doin’ anything.”

Joel exhaled sharply, his hands braced against the truck on either side of her. His body was close, heat rolling off him in waves.

“You been runnin’ me in circles since you got back,” he muttered. “Wearin’ these little dresses, givin’ me that damn smile, callin’ me—”

She licked her lips, voice soft. “Mr. Miller?”

Joel groaned. His fingers flexed against the truck, like he was fighting every instinct in his body to keep from touching her.

“You don’t know what you’re doin’, girl.”

She tilted her head, her lips a breath away from his. “What if I do?”

Silence.

Thick, heavy, charged.

Joel’s hand came up before he could stop himself, rough fingers tracing the line of her jaw, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Her breath hitched.

“Joel—”

He kissed her. It was desperate, all fire and hunger, years of restraint snapping like a damn rope pulled too tight.

His hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him, pressing her against the truck. She gasped against his lips, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, claiming her.

Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, like she wanted to crawl inside him, like she had been waiting for this just as long as he had.

Joel lifted her onto the edge of the tailgate, his grip firm on her thighs. Her dress rode up, exposing soft, smooth skin against the rough denim of his jeans.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, breathing ragged.

“You sure about this?”

She didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back in. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Joel groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

She smiled, breathless. “Then at least you’ll die happy.”

His control shattered.

He kissed her again, deeper, hungrier, and this time, he didn’t stop.

He opened the door of his truck and threw her into the backseat, the leather cool against her bare skin. He didn't bother with pleasantries or explanations; he knew she was playing with fire, and it was high time she felt the burn. His eyes raked over her, taking in every curve and freckle that made her uniquely her. She met his gaze, a mix of defiance and curiosity in her own eyes. He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck, and whispered, "You've been asking for this all night, darlin'."

Her heart raced as he climbed in beside her, the weight of his body pressing her into the seat. The smell of his cologne, leather, and something uniquely Joel filled the small space, making her head spin. His rough hands began to roam, tracing the lines of her body as if they were an ancient map, each touch setting her skin alight. Her own hands found his beard, and she pulled his face closer, feeling the prickle against her cheek. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that was as fierce as it was possessive. She could feel his hunger, his need to claim her as his own.

He pulled away, his eyes dark with lust, and grabbed his hat from the front seat. "Wear it," he grunted, placing it on her head. The brim shadowed her face, making her feel a mix of excitement and naughtiness. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her in his cowboy hat, a stark contrast to the bratty persona she had been putting on all night. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

With surprising gentleness, Joel pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her ample breasts that bounced free, the cool air making her nipples tighten into delicious little buds. He took one in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, while his hands found there way under her dress, tracing her soft thighs. She gasped, arching her back, the fabric of the hat brushing against her neck as she reached for him. Her hands roamed over his muscular chest, feeling the strength beneath.

Her own dress was quickly discarded, leaving her in just her lacy panties. He groaned, taking in the sight of her. His own desire was evident, pressing against the fabric of his jeans, but he took his time, savoring the moment. He reached down and slid her panties off, tossing them aside. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured against her skin as he kissed his way down her body.

He settled between her legs, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, her pussy glistening with want. "So sweet," he whispered, his voice gruff with desire. He dipped his head and licked her, a long, slow stroke that made her moan. She was already close, her body tightening with every flick of his tongue. He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through her. "You're eager, aren't you?"

Joel didn't wait for an answer; he feasted on her, his tongue delving into her depths, lapping up her sweetness. She squirmed beneath him, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair as she pushed herself closer to his mouth. "You taste like heaven," he murmured, his breath tickling her clit. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he worked her over with his mouth, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin.

The tension built, coiling tighter and tighter within her until she couldn't take it anymore. She shuddered, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado, leaving her panting and trembling in its wake. He looked up at her, a smug smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "Now, you've been teasing me for so long, let's see if you can handle the real deal."

With a swiftness that belied his size, Joel stripped off his clothes, his muscles rippling in the dim light of the truck's cabin. He was a vision of raw masculinity, a stark contrast to the gentle care he had taken with her moments before. He grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap so that she straddled him, his erection pressing against her soaked pussy. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. She didn't hesitate, sliding down onto him, feeling him fill her completely.

Her gasp was music to his ears, and he watched as she adjusted to his size, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to move. Joel's hands found her hips, guiding her movements, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on her skin. "Look at me," he said, his voice a gruff whisper. She obeyed, her eyes locking with his, and he could see the trust, the need, the desire all swirling together in their depths.

He leaned back against the seat, watching her ride him with a fierce determination that sent bolts of pleasure through his body. The hat sat askew on her head, her hair a wild mess around her face, and she had never looked more beautiful. His grip tightened on her hips, urging her to go faster, deeper. "Take what you want from me, darlin'. Show me what you've been hiding from me all these years."

Her movements grew more frantic, her breasts bouncing with every bounce, her moans filling the space around them. Joel could feel his own climax building, the base of his spine tingling with the promise of release. He leaned forward, capturing one of her nipples between his teeth, giving it a gentle bite that made her gasp and ride him harder. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a dark rumble in his chest. "You're going to make me come sweet girl."

The words seemed to spur her on, and she began to grind down on him with a fervor that was almost animalistic. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moons that would likely bruise by morning. But Joel didn't care. All he could focus on was the exquisite pleasure she was giving him, the way her pussy clenched around his cock with every movement she made. He knew he wouldn't last much longer.

With a growl, he flipped their positions, her back now pressed against the cool leather of the seat. He was relentless, pumping into her with a force that made the truck rock slightly. His hands found her breasts again, kneading them roughly as he claimed her mouth in another bruising kiss. She could feel his dominance, his need to possess her, and it only made her wetter.

Joel's hand slipped down between them, his calloused fingers finding her clit. He began to rub it in time with his thrusts, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her body. She moaned into his mouth, her nails now digging into his back, her body begging for more. "Cum for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise in her ear. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."

Her walls tightened around him, and she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. With a cry, she shattered, her orgasm tearing through her like a wildfire, consuming every part of her being. Joel followed her over the edge, his own release hot and powerful as he buried himself deep within her. They stayed there, locked together, for several long moments, their breathing the only sound in the quiet parking lot.

When he finally pulled out, she could feel the emptiness he left behind, both physically and emotionally. He didn't say a word as he tucked himself back into his pants, his movements efficient and practiced. She watched him, her chest heaving, the hat still perched on her head. It felt strange now, a symbol of what had just transpired between them.

Joel reached for a pack of cigarettes from the dashboard, lighting one up with a shaky hand. He took a long drag, the tip glowing red in the darkness before he turned to her. "You know, you've been playing a dangerous game," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You can't just tease a man like that and not expect consequences."

She sat up, her breath still coming in ragged gasps, the hat slipping slightly on her head. "I know," she whispered, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "But you liked it, didn't you?"

Joel's expression was unreadable, his eyes hooded as he took another drag of his cigarette. He beckoned her closer with a crook of his finger, his voice a soft rumble. "Come here, darlin'." She complied, sliding over to him, the leather of the seat sticking slightly to her skin. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, the hat still perched on her head.

The warmth of his embrace was a stark contrast to the coolness of the night air that had seeped into the truck. His heart thudded against her ear, a steady rhythm that seemed to echo the beat of her own. He inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent, a mix of sweetness and sex that was uniquely hers. "You know your daddy's going to kill me if he ever finds out about this," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

She giggled, the sound a little shaky, and snuggled closer to him. "Don't worry," she whispered, "I won't tell." Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her touch. The gravity of their situation settled on her, the reality of what they had just done heavy in the air between them.

"You're mine now," Joel said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "All those pretty dresses you wear, all for me to peel off." He reached down and picked up her discarded panties, holding them up with a smirk. "And these," he added, tucking them into his pocket, "are mine now."

She looked up at him, the hat tilting slightly to the side. "What are you saying?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

"I'm saying," Joel began, his eyes dark and intense, "that from now on, every time you wear those little dresses that drive me wild, it's my cock you're thinking about. Every time you spread your legs for anyone else, you're going to remember whose cock you really want." He took another drag of his cigarette, his gaze never leaving hers. "And when I say no one else gets to taste you, darlin', I mean it."

Her heart fluttered at his possessive words, a thrill of fear and excitement racing through her veins. "But, Joel, my dad—"

"I don't care about your daddy," he cut her off, his voice firm. "You're mine, and I'm not sharing." His eyes bore into hers, leaving no room for argument. "You'll wear those dresses, keep 'em guessing, but they'll never know what's hidden beneath. They won't get to taste what's mine."

He took her hand and placed it over his heart, the steady beat beneath his palm a declaration of his ownership. "You're not just a pretty face in a short dress anymore. You're mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to fuck." He leaned in, his breath a warm caress on her neck. "And when you wear that hat," his voice grew gruffer, "you're riding the cowboy."

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The weight of his words was intoxicating, a heady blend of fear and desire that had her knees trembling. She knew the rules had changed, the line she'd been toeing all night had been crossed, and there was no turning back. "I won't let anyone else have me, I'm yours," she murmured, her voice a soft promise that seemed to vibrate through him.

Joel's grip on her tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You'd better not," he warned, his tone playful yet laced with a hint of seriousness that made her stomach flip. He leaned in and kissed her again, a kiss that spoke of ownership and passion. His hand found her bare thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure through her body. "Every time you wear one of those dresses, I'll know that underneath, you'll be dripping full of me, my cum will make sure it says 'property of Joel Miller.'"

The thought made her blush, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her hand sliding down to his crotch, feeling him harden again. "Only for you," she murmured, her voice a siren's call in the quiet night.

He groaned, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Good girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "Now, let's get you dressed and back inside before anyone starts asking questions." He helped her into her clothes, his movements almost tender. As she adjusted her dress she couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret, knowing that she'd be giving up the thrill of the chase. But the look in Joel's eyes told her that the real fun was just beginning.

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teaboot · 7 months ago

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Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

#Ollieposting

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lupinqs · 4 months ago

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RIVAL ━━ paige bueckers x notre dame!reader

☆ ━ summary: you and paige have been rivals—and a little more—for as long as you can remember.

☆ ━ word count: 8.0K

☆ ━ warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, oral (p receiving), fingering (r receiving), scissoring

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this req

☆ ━ author’s note: bro im aware this was requested months ago mb. also this ain’t proofread so sorry abt that

THE CROWD is on its feet, the roar of Purcell Pavilion echoing like a thunder lap as the final seconds wind down. You stand at the top of the key, dribbling the ball slowly, deliberately, letting the clock bleed out. The scoreboard burns bright above you—79-68—an eleven-point win over UConn. Over her.

Your grin comes easy, the kind of unfiltered satisfaction that only comes from beating someone who brings out the worst—and best—in you. Sonia’s on you in a second, arm slung around your neck as she shakes you by the shoulders. “Three straight, baby!” she yells over the deafening noise, her laughter wild and bright.

You can’t help but laugh with her, your chest still heaving, lungs burning from forty relentless minutes of pure ball. But the ache is worth it. Wins like this always are.

Your teammates are already flooding the court, celebrating the win like it’s the last one they’ll ever get. Coaches clap backs, players smack palms, and there’s a hum of pride rolling through the group. But your eyes, despite everything else, sweep the UConn bench, finding her almost instinctively.

Paige.

She’s standing near half court, hands on her hips, jaw set tight. Her expression is unreadable from this distance—frustration masked with something colder, more controlled. The scoreboard’s glare reflects in her eyes, a harsh reminder of what she’s leaving with tonight.

You can’t help it—you smirk to yourself, just a little. Wins like this always feel good, but they feel so much better when they come at Paige Bueckers’ expense.

The handshake line forms, a conga line of sportsmanship stitched together by half-hearted mumbles of “good game” and fleeting eye contact. You shuffle into place, still riding the adrenaline high of a big win, but as the line inches closer to Paige, you feel your focus narrow, the noise dulling into a low hum.

When it’s finally her, you straighten instinctively, your chin lifting just slightly. Paige doesn’t say anything at first—she just looks at you, blue eyes sharp and unblinking, mouth pressed into a thin line. She looks pissed. She’s always a little pissed when you win, and, if you’re being honest, that might be your favorite version of her.

“Good game,” you offer, your voice low, casual, just for her.

Her hand grips yours harder than it probably needs to, fingers curling tight around your palm. “Yeah,” she says, curt, her tone clipped in that way it always is after a loss.

There’s a pause—half a second at most, but it stretches, full of something heavy and unspoken. Paige’s gaze flicks to yours, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. The crowd fades, your teammates are ghosts in the corner of your vision, and the scoreboard’s garish glow feels a mile away.

You don’t say anything else, but you tilt your chin in a subtle nod, just enough to let her know you understand. That you’ll see her later. That, like always, this isn’t over.

Her eyes harden slightly—defiance, maybe, or something close to it—but she doesn’t let go right away. Not until the moment lingers long enough to be noticed.

When she finally does release your hand, Paige moves on, the line pulling her away, but you don’t miss the way her shoulders are still stiff, the way she walks off the court like she has something to prove.

She always does.

You stay there for a moment longer than you probably should, watching as she disappears into the tunnel, before Sonia’s voice yanks you back to the present.

“Yo, you good?” she asks, nudging your shoulder. “You spacing out on me, or what?”

You blink, pulling your focus back to her with a quick shake of your head. “Yeah, I’m good Just—” You exhale sharply, cracking another grin. “I just love beating them.”

Sonia laughs loudly, her voice echoing in the arena as the last of the fans begin to filter out. “You’re so insufferable.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slinging your arm around her shoulders as you head for the locker room. “I know.”

But the truth is, there’s only one person you love beating more than anyone else.

And you know she’ll make you pay for it later.

YOU’VE KNOWN Paige Bueckers for years, long before the media darling and All-American titles. Before the NCAA Tournaments, the SportsCenter highlights, the endless headlines that crowned her the future of women’s basketball.

Back then, it was just Hopkins and Wayzata.

Two high schools. Two teams. Two players who hated each other’s guts.

Everyone in the Minneapolis area knew the rivalry. Hopkins was a powerhouse, an unstoppable juggernaut led by Paige, the prodigy who’d been making headlines since middle school. You, on the other hand, played for Wayzata—a damn good team in its own right, but always the underdog. And you? You were the underdog that refused to back down.

You didn’t like Paige. Paige didn’t like you.

At least, that’s what you told yourselves.

Every time your teams faced off, it was war. Ever loose ball was a fight. Every possession was personal. The two of you went at each other like you were trying to settle something bigger than a basketball game, and the rivalry had anyone who knew Minnesota ball talking.

And yeah, sure, maybe that rivalry bled into other things sometimes. Post-game locker rooms, sideline trash talk, way too much adrenaline and pent-up frustration. You’d run into each other at some after-party, fresh off a loss or a win, and before you knew it, you’d be toe-to-toe again—snapping at each other, trying to prove something neither of you could articulate.

Sometimes, those arguments ended in a little more than words.

You don’t let yourself think about those nights often, but they happened. You against a wall, her pressed close, teeth grazing lips. Too much energy, too much anger, too much of everything. Paige always made you feel like you were on the edge of something sharp, like one wrong move would send you both tumbling over.

But then she graduated. Went to Connecticut.

And you were still stuck in high school, forced to watch as she became exactly what everyone said she would: the superstar, the golden child, the future. While you were still clawing your way out, Paige was climbing higher. National Freshman of the Year. National Player of the Year. First-Team All-American. All that stupid shit.

By the time you joined Notre Dame as a freshman, she was already Paige Bueckers. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t care. That what happened in high school was in the past.

But then you saw her again.

The first time you were meant to play her, in Storrs, you got COVID and restrictions kept you in South Bend. You’d watched on the screen as her knee buckled, though, and you’d sent her a text afterwards. You’re still not sure why you did.

The second time, she was in Indiana, but she wasn’t playing. ACL. You’d won, basking in it, and when you walked into the handshake line and saw her standing there, looking just as pissed as she always does, it all came rushing back.

That night, you ended up in her hotel room.

And it’s been the same ever since.

Which is why you’re here now, glancing at your phone again, double-checking the room number she texted you—just the number, no words, no punctuation, like you’d automatically know what she wanted. And, annoyingly, she was right. You always do.

Two sharp knocks. The sound echoes slightly in the otherwise silent hotel hall.

The pause that follows is long enough to make you shift your weight, suddenly aware of the way your pulse is thrumming in your ears. Then, the lock clicks, and the door swings open, and there she is.

Paige leans one shoulder against the doorframe, her expression unreadable, though the tight set of her jaw betrays her. Her UConn gear has been swapped for a loose white tee and grey sweatpants. Her hair is damp at the edges, curling slightly at the ends, and there’s a faint flush on her cheeks—anger, exhaustion, maybe both.

“Eleven points,” she says, not bothering with a hello. Her voice is low, and you’re not sure whether it’s meant to be an insult or an observation.

You raise an eyebrow, letting your lips pull into a smirk. “We’ve done worse.”

Which you have, last year at her home, in her gym, in front of her fans. It was a good night, to say the least.

But the comment earns you a sharp look, her blue eyes narrowing like she’s trying to decide whether to slam the door in your face. Instead, she exhales sharply through her nose and steps aside, leaving the door open just enough for you to slip inside.

The room is dim, lit only by the muted TV, playing some late-night SportsCenter recap. The air smells faintly like hotel soap and her shampoo, clean and sharp and so unmistakably her. You stand near the desk, leaning casually against it as the door clicks shut behind you.

Paige doesn’t say anything right away, just crosses her arms over her chest and stares at you, her gaze dragging from your shoes to your face, tracking every detail.

“You don’t waste time,” she says finally, the words clipped but not entirely unkind.

“Why would I?” you shoot back, shrugging. “You texted me, remember?”

The corner of her mouth twitches—annoyance, amusement, it’s always hard to tell with her. She takes a step closer, her arms still folded tight against her chest, her stance defensive even as she invades your space.

“You played well tonight,” she mumbles, like the words physically hurt to say.

“Better than you,” you reply instantly, because of course you do.

Her eyes flash, and the tension between you tightens, sharp and immediate. “You think you’re funny?” she asks, her voice soft and dangerous, a stark contrast to the fire in her eyes.

“I know I’m funny,” you tell her, leaning a little further against the desk. “And you know it, too. I mean, why else would you have texted me?”

She scoffs, the sound low, and takes another step closer. “I texted you because I didn’t want to go to bed pissed off.”

“And yet, here we are,” you reply, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Guess that’s what losing does to you.”

It happens faster than you can process. She closes the distance between you in a blink, grabbing the front of your hoodie and pulling you forward until there’s no space left between you. And then you’re backed into the wall before you know it, your breath catching as Paige tilts her head just slightly, lips hovering over yours, hand braced on the surface next to your face.

“You’re so goodman irritating,” she says, voice quieter now but no less biting.

“Yeah,” you mumble back, tilting your jaw up towards her a little. “I know.”

And then her lips are on yours, quick and rough and bruising, like she’s trying to steal the breath from your lungs. It’s not soft, not gentle—nothing with Paige ever is. Her hand finds your throat, not squeezing exactly, but firm enough to make your head tilt back, pressing you harder into the wall. The cool surface dogs into your shoulders, and the air between you is charged with something you don’t know how to name but feel in every nerve of your body.

It’s a fight as much as it is a kiss—messy and unrelenting, both of you trying to claim the upper hand. Her teeth graze your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp, and she uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours in a way that’s both calculated and desperate.

Your hands tangle in her damp hair, pulling harder than you need to, just to get a reaction out of her. She groans against your mouth, low and guttural, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You tug again, and she presses into you more, her knee nudging between your legs, her free hand gripping your waist like she’s trying to keep you exactly where she wants you.

But you’re not about to let her win that easily.

You push back, twisting your fingers in her hair to angle her head in the way you want, tongue clashing with hers roughly. Paige won’t have that, though, and responds by pressing her forearm against your collarbone, pinning you harder against the wall. The weight of it makes your chest heave, your pulse pounding beneath her palm where it still rests lightly at your throat.

And then she’s kissing you again, harder this time, like she’s trying to prove a point. Her teeth scrape against your lip once more, and you pull at her hair harshly in retaliation, dragging her closer even as you try to push her away. It’s a constant push and pull, a battle neither of you is ever willing to lose.

Her knee shifts higher, pressing against your clothed clit just enough to make you gasp, and you claw at her, nails digging into the skin of her neck. She pulls back, just slightly, her lips barely brushing against yours as she smirks.

“You need somethin’?” she asks, her voice rough and smug as she pushes her knee further up against you, just enough to give your cunt some friction. Her hand hand slides from your throat to your jaw, tilting your head up.

Your eyes narrow, and you tug her hair harder, forcing her head back so you can capture her lips again. It’s a messy clash of teeth and tongues, and her fingers dig hard against the side of your neck, hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave marks, and the thought makes your blood run faster. She continues to bounce her knee up against you, giving you enough stimulation that your skin starts to flush.

She has the upper hand right now. But you’re not ready to give her that. Not yet.

So, your fingers wrap around her forearm, nails pressing into her skin as you wrench it off of you, breaking the pin she had against your chest. Paige stumbles back a step, caught off guard for just a fraction of a second, and it’s all the opening you need.

You grin at her, stepping forward so your chests are pressed together. You hum, sounding sickly sweet. “You good there, Bueckers?”

Her jaw tightens, blue eyes flashing with something dark and unyielding, and she opens her mouth—probably to say something sharp, something to cut you down—but you don’t give her the chance. Your hands find her shoulders, pushing at her chest, forcing her to step back. She resists at first, her feet digging into the carpet, but you push harder, guiding her backwards, step by step, until her calves hit the edge of the bed.

She barely has time to process before you give her one final shove, and she falls onto the mattress with a slight bounce, propping herself up on her elbows, staring up at you with a mixture of irritation and something else—something you recognize all too well.

Lust.

You let her see the smirk tugging at your lips, the way you’re taking your time climbing onto the bed after her, the deliberate drag of your body as you crawl over her. You straddle her hips, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of her, and you can feel the sharp inhale she takes, the tension coiling in her body beneath you.

“I fucking hate you,” she mutters, her voice low and rough, her hands twitching where they rest against the bed like she’s trying to decide whether to touch you or throw you off of her.

Your grin is nothing short of wicked as you lean down, your lips barely brushing against hers. “Feeling’s mutual,” you tell her.

Her fingers flex against the sheets, gripping them like she’s trying to keep herself from grabbing you, from flipping you over and ruining you right then and there. You can see the way her jaw ticks, the way her chest rises and falls beneath you, and it’s intoxicating, knowing you have her like this.

“You piss me off,” she says, but her voice is weaker now, her resolve clearly crumbling with every inch you close between you.

“Good,” you murmur, just before you close the distance, pressing your lips to hers again.

This time, it’s a little different.

The fight is still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it’s wrapped in something more desperate, more aching. You kiss her hard, but she meets you with equal force, shoving her tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours. Her hands finally snap up to your waist, gripping at your sweatshirt like she’s been holding back for too long and can’t anymore.

You rock your hips slightly, just to tease, just to get a reaction out of her, and it works—she groans into your mouth, fingers sliding under your sweatshirt and tightening against your skin like she wants to leave marks. And maybe she does. Maybe you do, too.

You continue kissing her, messily, tugging at her lips with your teeth, sliding your tongue with hers. You feel some of her spit fall onto your chin but you can’t find it in yourself to care, too busy lazily canting your hips against hers, letting out barely-there sighs into her mouth.

And then her hands are at the hem of your sweatshirt, fingers curling into the fabric before she yanks it up and over your head in one swift motion. The sudden cool air against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, but the way Paige’s eyes darken as she takes you in, the way her lips part just slightly—it’s enough to replace the chill with a heat that spreads through you like wildfire.

She makes a noise, low in her throat, her hands pinching your waist before sliding up, kneading at your covered breasts through your sports bra. The pressure makes your breath hitch just slightly, and you drop your forehead against hers for just a second, just to ground yourself. But you don’t stay still for long.

Your lips begin to trail, dragging along the infuriatingly sharp line of her jaw before finding her neck. You nip at the sensitive skin there, sucking just hard enough to hear her exhale sharply through her nose, her fingers twitching against your ribs.

“Gonna leave a mark?” she mutters, tilting her head to give you more room even as she tries to sound unimpressed.

You smirk against her skin. “Maybe.”

You bite again, a little harder, and she curses softly under her breath, her fingers pressing into your sides. It makes you grin against her pulse point, flicking your tongue out lightly. But before you can tease her again, her hands are moving, slipping beneath your sports bra, her thumbs brushing just below the band. The feeling has your stomach tensing, your heart pounding, but before she can get any further, you decide turnabout is fair play.

You find the hem of her t-shirt, and she lets you pull it up and over her head, tossing it to the side without a second thought. The moment you realize she’s not wearing a bra, a rush of heat pools low in your stomach. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, gaze trailing over her bare tits, small but perky.

Paige watches you, chest heaving a little too fast, a flicker of something teasing in her expression. “Like what you see?”

You scoff, dragging your nails down her toned abs, watching as she shivers beneath you. “You wish,” you say, though you both know that yes, you are definitely enjoying the view.

She grins, cocky and annoying, but it vanishes the second your hands roam up her stomach, fingertips brushing deliberately against her ribs before settling on her tits. Her breath catches, her smirk faltering for just a second, and you know you’ve got her.

“You were saying?” you murmur, leaning in again, your lips ghosting over the base of her throat.

She exhales sharply, and you feel it more than you hear it, the warmth of her breath rushing against your ear. Then, her hands slide down your back, gripping your waist with enough force to make your head spin.

She doesn’t respond to your question and it makes you let out a satisfied hum. You’re working your lips again now, trailing them down, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her collarbone before moving lower, tasting the salt of her skin. She doesn’t make a sound, though you can feel her heart racing against your lips. She’s too stubborn to do that yet, too determined to act like this doesn’t affect her the way you know it does.

But you feel the truth in the way her fingers dig into your back, just enough to send a thrill down your spine. Your smirk only widens against her, your lips brushing over the swell of her left breast, before your tongue darts out, sloppily swirling it over her pert nipple. She arches into you a little, even more so when your hand reaches up to tweak and pinch at her other nipple, making sure she’s evened out.

You hum once more, sucking on her skin as you glance up, only to see her already staring down at you, pale cheeks flushed red. The sight makes you smile, a little evilly, your mouth pulling away from her nipple with a quick pop.

And then you’re reaching down, your hands sliding to the waistband of her sweats, fingers hooking around them. You don’t pull them off right away, though. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you drag your fingers along the edge, just barely skimming her skin, watching the way her abdominal muscles tense, the way her breathing stutters slightly.

You glance up at her once more, and there’s fire in her eyes, that sharp, unyielding intensity that’s always been so distinctly Paige. Even now, even like this, she won’t back down. It makes your chest constrict a little, something equal parts frustration and admiration, though you’d never admit the latter out loud.

“Quit staring at me,” she mutters roughly, her hands gripping at your back like she’s not sure if she wants to pull you closer or push you away.

Your lips curl into the familiar smirk that’s been sitting on your face since the game. “Why? You don’t want me to see you blush, Paigey?” The nickname comes out of your mouth in a patronizing tone.

She glares at you, pinching your skin enough to make you twitch a little against her. You roll your eyes at that, finally reaching to tug at her sweatpants, pushing them past her hips, down her thighs, until she’s left in just her boxers. Your fingers linger at the waistband of those, tracing patterns along the edge before swiping teasingly at her clothed clit. You feel her tense beneath you, her breath catching in her throat, but still, she doesn’t break. She doesn’t give you the satisfaction of watching her squirm.

You bite your lip, watching her carefully, and—fuck—you’d be lying if you said you haven’t missed this. Missed the tension, the way you both toe the line between hatred and something else, something more. Missed the way she looks at you like she wants to tear you apart, missed the way she lets you have the upper hand just long enough to make you feel like you’ve won before she turns the tables on you.

Because that’s where this always ends.

At some point, you’ll be the one pinned beneath her. It’s inevitable. It always happens.

But for now, she’s at your mercy, and you plan on savoring it.

You lean down, your lips skimming across her stomach, pressing sloppy kisses along the lines of her abs. You feel the way her muscles tense beneath you, and you nip teasingly at her skin before soothing it with your tongue, swiping the wet muscle downward until it reaches the waistband of her Nike Pros. Now, finally settled between her legs, she props herself up on her elbows, watching you, tracking your every movement with those insufferably pretty blue eyes of hers.

She’s waiting, barely holding onto her patience, and you love it.

You hook your fingers into her boxers, slowly, slowly pulling them down, making sure she feels every agonizing second of it. You don’t break eye contact, gaze tracking the way her jaw tightens, her fingers twitch, her breathing grows uneven.

The second she’s entirely naked, you let your eyes rake over her. And then you’re leaning above her cunt, blowing lightly against it.

She grits her teeth. “Don’t fuckin’ tease,” she chastises.

You raise your eyebrows. “Don’t be so impatient,” you counter.

You think she’s about to protest further, but then you lean forward, pressing your lips to the inside of her muscular thigh, slow and careful. You drag your tongue along the smooth skin, back and forth. As you do so, she fists the bedsheets like she’s forcing herself to stay in control, her other hand reaching down to grip onto your shoulder.

You roll your eyes, relenting, “Jesus, fine.”

And then you shift your head so you’re right above her bare cunt. You poke your tongue out between your lips, letting it slide slowly along her folds. She lets out a quiet breath that you’re sure she’s been holding in for minutes now, her hand on your shoulder holding tightly to the band of your sports bra.

You lick your way up her slit, circling your tongue around her clit. Your fingertips press into Paige’s hips, holding her in place as you work, dropping open-mouthed kisses along her heat. Of fucking course, she tastes sweet as usual. She always does, and you slurp at her quicker to taste more of it, more of her.

You glance up to see her watching you intently, blue eyes holding a rare weakness in them that you’ve only ever seen when you’ve had her in a position like this. When you slip your tongue down into her entrance, feeling that spongy part of her before trailing her arousal back up to her clit, she finally groans a little. You watch as she tilts her head back, muttering, “Shit,” her hips canting up towards you slightly.

Continuing to lap at her wetness like a dog, you watch as she leans her head downward to see you again. You keep your eyes locked onto hers, and then you suck, teeth scraping over her clit in a way that has Paige’s fingers digging into your skin, telling you because she probably can’t help herself, “Fuuuck, right there.” You grin against her a little, complying, and then her hand is reaching to shove your hair out of your face and behind your head so she can look at you properly. You groan a little at the thought and at the taste of her, the vibrations berating through her pussy and making her tense up.

It’s then that you flatten your tongue against her, shaking your head, the wet muscle flicking against Paige’s bud harshly. Her hand on the bed smacks down on the mattress, while her fingers tighten in your hair, tugging enough to hurt. But you don’t mind. If anything, you double down, creating a suction against her clit again.

“Keep—God, keep doin’ that,” Paige stutters out, biting at her lip. She moves your head against her cunt the way she likes, the way that makes her feel best, hand holding onto the back of your skull. You let her, lapping her pussy with the rhythm, feeling the way her thighs begin to shake, hips rutting quickly up to your mouth.

You pull away just enough to ask, “You close?” Your breath flutters against her wetness, and she lets out a gruff noise, tightening her hold on you until it’s almost too painful. “Yeah—c’mon—” she curses impatiently, pushing your head back toward her cunt.

But she’d be stupid to think you’d let her have that shit that easily. So you shake your head quickly, loosening her grip on you slightly. You lean down to nip at her thigh, gaze flicking between her swollen, puffy clit and the dazed, needy look swirling in her baby blues. “Eleven points,” you say smugly, reminding her. Because she needs to be reminded. You’d remind her every minute of every day if you could. “I beat you.”

Paige groans at the words, slamming her head back against the pillows. “Can’t you just shut up and make me cum?” she orders, pulling at your hair.

“Nah,” you say slowly, dragging it out. And then you lean down, letting a drop of your spit fall from your mouth down onto her pussy. You feel her body twitch a little at the sensation, not expecting it, before she’s sitting up on her elbows once more, clearly needing to watch you. “I wanna hear you say it,” you tell her.

“Say what?” she asks incredulously, impatient as her hips twitch in your hold.

You smirk, your fingers coming down to rub your saliva into the puffy skin of her clit. She lets out a little noise at the back of her throat at that and your grin widens, saying, “I wanna hear you say I beat you. That I’m better than you.”

Immediately, she scoffs, but the sound is cut short as you pinch at her clit harshly. “I—I ain’t sayin’ shit,” she spits out, shaking her head, her cheeks bright red, a sheen of sweat glistening across her chest.

“Then you don’t get to cum,” you deadpan, slapping at her pussy lightly before pulling your hand away and sitting up between her legs so your head is no longer near her cunt.

She lets out a noise between a groan and a whine at your words, tugging at you, trying to bring you back close to her. But you stand your ground, rubbing one knuckle across her wetness slowly in a way you know will have her frustrated. “Say it,” you order.

“I—” she cuts herself off, her gaze flicking back toward the ceiling as your fingers continue their torturous pace. She grabs at your wrist, attempting to quicken it, but you hold your ground. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can,” you encourage smugly, grinning at her obvious discomfort and frustration. “All you gotta do is say the words and then I’ll make you cum, Paigey. Promise.”

She’s silent for a long moment, probably deliberating. It seems she’s come to terms with the fact that she wants to finish more than she cares about being humiliated, so she groans, throwing a hand up over her head in frustration. “Fine!” she relents. “You beat me and you’re sooo much fucking better than me. That what you wanted to hear?”

Her tone is sarcastic, but it’s enough for you. You smile at her, showing all your teeth, and you ask, “Now was that so hard?” before diving back in.

Your tongue immediately pushes into her entrance and it makes her whole body shake, a throaty moan escaping her lips. You fuck up into her with it, one of your hands reaching up to toy with her clit. Your jaw damn near goes slack with the way you’re thrusting your tongue, but you don’t much care, because the sight of Paige looking fucked out beneath you, her control slipping, just makes you go faster.

“So close, ma,” Paige stutters out, her breath uneven. “Don’t stop, swear to fuckin’ God—”

“’M not stopping,” you tell her, pulling your tongue out of her to flick and swirl it around her folds, nearly rolling your eyes into the back of your head. “Come on. Cum for me. Cum on my face, Paige.”

She nods, a broken series of moans escaping her mouth as her hips lift against your mouth. Her cunt pulses once, twice, and then she’s gushing against you. You dutifully lap it up, licking all you can before slowly pulling away.

You sit back on your heels, watching as she lays there, sweaty and breathless beneath you, her chest rising and falling with each shaky inhale. Her eyes are closed, her arm resting over them so even if they were open, you wouldn’t be able to see them. You can see the redness in her face, the way her pale skin is flushed—all from you.

As you take her in, a dark smirk crawls onto your lips, which are still sticky with her. Slowly, carefully, you crawl back up her body, enjoying the view, enjoying the way her eyes stay closed as she tries to pull herself together.

Now hovering just above her, you pause, letting the space between you two linger. Your breath is also shallow, from the sheer effort you had whilst eating her out. Nevertheless, you can’t resist the taunt that slips from your lips, the smugness seeping through. “You good?” you ask, your voice thick with amusement.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of her breath, ragged and heavy. But then she’s moving her arm and her eyes are snapping open. Blue fire swirls in them, renewed intensity blazing there—one you know you won’t be able to burn out. You feel her muscles tense beneath you, her eyes not just locked on you, but almost through you, daring you to challenge her.

And then, with no warning, she reaches up, her big hands gripping your body with an almost ferocity that leaves you momentarily stunned. You barely have time to react before she flips you over, the strength in her hands and the force in her movements surprising you—you thought she’d still be weak from her orgasm. One second, you’re above her, and the next, you’re flat on your back, staring up at her—Paige Bueckers, always managing to put you in this position, no matter the night.

Your chest heaves, but before you can even say anything, she’s already kissing you. Her lips slam down on yours, hungry, fierce, all teeth and heat. Her tongue travels over your lips and through your mouth, tasting herself on you.

“Can’t believe you made me say that shit,” she mutters against your lips, the words dripping with disbelief and disdain. “Fuckin’ insane.”

Of course, you can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth. Your breath still shallow, you tease, “You said it anyways. Free will, PB.”

She lets out a low groan at that, and it almost makes you laugh—almost. But before you can, she’s pulling away from the kiss, her eyes dark and determined, and then, without any hesitation, she grips your wrists harshly. She pulls your arms above your head, pinning them there as her body presses down, her weight making sure you stay exactly where she wants you. She’s still a little sticky and sweaty, and the feeling of her bare skin against yours has you biting your lip.

“A’ight,” she basically growls, the edge in her voice cutting through the hotel room. You can feel the heat between you, building rapidly. “You had your fun. My turn.”

And then her mouth is back on yours, moving so quickly and fiercely that you almost can’t keep up. Her tongue tangles with your sloppily, licking inside your mouth, her hands digging into you wrists. You work your jaw almost as hard as you did whilst going down on her, doing your best to stay on pace.

You don’t have to worry about that for long, though, because Paige is clearly impatient (per usual), her lips breaking away from yours, trailing down to your throat. You suck in a sharp breath as she nips and sucks at the delicate skin there, her teeth grazing your pulse point. You ball your hands into fists above your head, trying to keep yourself still, keep your reactions in check. You don’t want her to have the satisfaction of hearing you, of knowing she’s getting to you—the two of you are similar in that way, just like how Paige was before.

Still, it’s difficult to stay quiet. It’s been a long time since she’s had you beneath her like this, and the sensation of her mouth on your skin—hot, wet, relentless—is enough to make your body betray you, the tremors running through you despite your best efforts. You shift beneath her, trying to suppress the sounds threatening to escape, but Paige’s relentless assault on your neck only increases, the pull of her lips surely leaving bruises.

It’s then that she unpins your wrists, one of her hands slipping away to trail down your side. You can’t help the small, involuntary shiver that races up your spine as she moves. Stupidly, you think that she might be about to give you a break. But instead, her hands are at the band of your sports bra, pulling it roughly over your head in one, quick motion that leaves you almost gasping.

Before you can even really process it, Paige’s face is buried in your chest. Her lips press to the soft skin there, her breath hot against the swell of your breast. And when she speaks, it’s in a low, almost bitter tone, each word dripping with a mix of frustration and something else.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” she mutters, the words heavy, like they cost her something to say. “I hate how fuckin’ pretty you are.”

You sigh a little, and sigh even more as Paige’s lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking in a way that makes her cheekbones pronounced. You watch as she continues heatedly, swirling her tongue around the bud before turning her attention to the other tit, doing the same there. You reach up to hold onto her bicep, more pronounced than you remember, her sweat sticking to your hand.

Then, she shifts back upward so her face is hovering directly over yours, her eyes boring into your own. “Take your pants off,” she orders, licking her lips as her gaze rakes over your face.

You scoff a little at her tone, rude and nagging. “Demanding, much?” you sass, staring up at her in a challenge.

It’s clear that she won’t have any of that, though, because her hand that was resting on your ribs reaches up to squeeze ruthlessly at your tit, pinching your nipple. “Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” she spits.

You decide that at this point, it’s probably in your best interest to listen to her despite the fact that you love doing the same. So, rolling your eyes but obliging, you reach down and lift your hips, sliding your leggings and panties off in one go, kicking them away and onto the floor.

Paige glances down at you, now completely naked before her. Her eyes rave across your figure, probably committing it to memory since these moments don’t happen too often. When her gaze lands on your pussy, they take in the glittering arousal coating it.

“Shit,” she mutters, and then repeats the curse as she swipes two fingers through your folds. They come out soaked, and then she’s offering them to you. You do as she wants, taking her digits in your mouth, sucking on them, tasting yourself. She watches you intently, her jaw tightening.

Eventually, your lips unwrap her fingers and she pulls them away, trailing them down your stomach before sliding them right back between your wet folds. Almost on instinct, you spread your legs wider for her. She smirks and glances from your pussy back to your face, saying teasingly, “Didn’t know I made you this wet.”

You shake your head, averting your eyes from hers. “You don’t,” you deny, and she just laughs in response, because it’s clear as day that she, in fact, does.

Her fingers drag across you teasingly slow, circling. You feel your heart begin to race and the heat within you start to rise, despite the fact that she’s barely touched you. You and Paige both watch, heads tilted downwards, as the pads of her fingertips press against your clit before trailing down to tease at your entrance.

Paige leans over, using her other hand to push your thighs open even wider. She continues teasing you like so, never fully pushing into you like you need. “Two’s good for you?” she asks, looking over at your face.

You feel your jaw go slightly slack as two of Paige’s long, slender digits slowly slip inside you. You don’t answer her question, which annoys her. She pauses her movements, asking sassily, “Hellooo?”

You roll your eyes, shifting your hips against her hand, rushing your words out hurriedly. “Yes! Fuck, two’s good.”

“Hmm,” Paige hums, pumping her fingers in and out a couple times. You sigh at the feeling, head lolling to the side a little, tongue swiping over the swell of your bottom lip. “Don’t care. Take three.”

And then she’s shoving a third finger in you, not giving you any time to get used to it. The stretch hurts, and you make a face, nails digging into Paige’s bicep, gripping at the muscle. You whimper as she pulls all three digits out before thrusting back in. Your hips grind against her hand of their own accord, and you tilt your head back, trying to keep your noises at bay.

Her fingers continue pumping inside you, curling, too, and it’s such a mix of pleasure and pain. You feel so full, and when she meets that spongy spot, you can’t help but cry out, “Paige!”

She grins at the sound of her name escaping your mouth, all desperate and needy. She leans down, her lips ghosting along your jaw and across your cheek, asking, “You like that?”

You don’t answer, any and all words stuck in your throat. Instead, you grind harder against her, the squelching sound of your pussy unmistakable. You moan a little, a broken noise, and shift your head to the opposite side of where Paige is, unwilling to lean on her.

Paige just hums, nodding against you. “Mmm, you do like that.”

She’s thrusting her fingers faster now, and you nearly sob at the stretch and the feeling. You should’ve known she’d be like this—should’ve prepared yourself better. Instead, you’re completely at her mercy, chewing on your bottom lip enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood, trying to do anything but quite literally scream.

“God—” you manage to get out breathlessly, shaking your head as she continues her movements mercilessly. “Paige, it hurts—” you whimper.

Paige doesn’t care. Clearly. Instead, she just laughs, pushing her fingers in harder, faster, deeper. “Not so full of yourself now are you, huh?” she asks smugly, watching you intently. You can’t meet her gaze, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

“I can’t,” you tell her, feeling tears pool beneath your closed lids. And, fuck, it’s embarrassing to admit, but you really can hardly handle the feeling of so much of her, inside you like that.

“I know. You’re so tight. Stretchin’ you out so much, yeah?”

You nod, body trembling. But it doesn’t matter because Paige just keeps going, giving it her all. And then you feel her lips on yours again, tongue sliding against yours, her body sinking down on you.

“I’on care that it hurts, ma,” she mutters against your mouth, curling her fingers inside you once more, making your back arch into her. “You’re gonna take it, ’kay? Fuckin’ take everything I give you.”

She pulls her hand away for a moment and you don’t know whether you’re disappointed or relieved. Your eyes flutter open, watching as she leans over her fingers, spitting onto them. And then she’s bringing them down to your cunt once more, pounding all three of them right back in. You cry out, fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yeah, take that shit,” she tells you again, voice husky. “Look at you, suckin’ me up like that. Slut.”

You do look, watching as her fingers disappear inside you over and over and over again. They continuously hit your g-spot, squelching loudly and filthily. You’re dripping onto her hand by now, getting the sheets wet, too. You throw your head back, mouth opening into a silent scream as the knot in your stomach tightens.

You buck your hips up, you dig your nails into Paige’s skin, you feel your thighs shaking. And then you’re snapping.

Your arousal pools out of you and onto Paige. Mercifully, she does what you need her to, slowing her fingers to help you ride out your high. You sigh shakily as she pulls her digits out of your still-pulsating pussy. Your eyes flutter shut, thinking that’s the end of it. That Paige will collapse next to you and the two of you will lay there for a moment, breathless, before you inevitably get up and get dressed, leaving her alone.

But, when you feel Paige move, pulling your leg upward and settling between your thighs, you know you’re mistaken. And then she’s positioning herself, her clit bumping against yours. “Mmm, fuck,” she mumbles at the skin-on-skin contact.

Immediately, your eyes shoot open and you shake your head. “Wait—” you try weakly, pushing at her abs, because you’re still so sensitive and what already hurt before hurts even more now. “I can’t yet—gimme a sec—”

But Paige doesn’t give you anything but the sensation of her scissoring against you. “Just chill,” she tells you slowly before groaning as she continues fucking herself on your pussy. “Feels good, c’mon. Feel it wit’ me.”

You struggle to for a moment, but slowly, as Paige’s hand comes to play with your tits, and the overstimulation begins to fade, you do feel it. And, fuck, she was right. It is good. You moan a little, and Paige leans down, swallowing your sounds with a kiss. Her palms land on the mattress on either side of your head, digging into the sheets as she grinds faster against you.

You buck your hips up to match the blonde’s pace, sighing as her wetness continuously meets yours. Your arms reach up to wrap around her neck, needing something to ground you. You pull her impossibly closer and she lets you, still fucking against you.

“Th—That’s it,” she stutters, letting out nothing short of a pornographic moan as your cunt grinds sloppily upwards on hers. “You don’t get it—this fuckin’ pussy—”

You don’t ask what she means, too busy chasing your high again. You pant erratically, holding onto Paige tightly, so close.

“I—God, Paige—I—” you can’t get the words that you need to out, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of her cunt pressing perfectly against yours, like that’s where it belongs.

“I know,” she mumbles breathlessly into your neck, pressing a sloppy kiss to the skin there. “Fuck, I know. You almost there?”

You nod, pressing even closer. “Almost,” you manage to get out. You gasp, the heat pooling low in your stomach.

“Me too,” Paige breathes, grinding downwards desperately, chasing her orgasm. You chase it with her, needing it. “Baby, I’mma come. Shit, I’mma come.”

And then her hips stutter against yours, the pleasure mounting. Paige bites into your neck, letting out a muffled groan as you feel her gush out her release on your pussy. You finish, too, moaning Paige’s name right in her ear.

The blonde collapses against you, your thighs sticky with her, hers sticky with you. You lay there, breathless, heart racing, chest constricting. You feel her taking ragged breaths against your neck. Eventually, she rolls off of you so that you’re side-by-side, trying to gather yourselves.

It takes you a long moment, but then you’re sitting up, fishing for your clothes. You find your sports bra and sweatshirt first, slipping those on. And then you stand, reaching down by the end of the bed to grab your underwear and leggings. You don’t look at Paige, who you can feel watching you, until you’re completely dressed. She’s still naked, somehow looking both nonchalant and entirely fucked out at the same time.

“Well,” you say slowly, clucking your tongue. “See you in March.”

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #wlw smut #wlw #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb

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mv1simp · 6 months ago

Text

Vegas, Baby (I Wanna Ride) ♥️

Max Verstappen x Friend!Reader

welcome to vegas baby, give me money, give me diamonds, give me rubies baby (get on your knees and beg me please to let you in me)

Tonight's a big night for the Redbull team in Las Vegas. Max Verstappen just won his 4th WDC, and you, his good friend, just won your first F2 race. After months of rising sexual tension, the line between you and Max starts blurring during a wild Vegas afterparty. Nothing beats crowning a 4th championship than passionate celebration sex, right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Max, sub! Reader who’s playing mind games to seduce him, size kink, praise kink, cream pie, morally dubious relationship status but no cheating, drunk passionate sex with max post WDC is literally the epitome of my dreams, 5.3k WC

Max! The blonde Dutchman’s concentration shifts from one of the many post Las Vegas Grand Prix interviews he’s been coerced into to hear your familiar voice excitedly calling for him. His cute smile turns into an even more gorgeous grin as he spots you making a beeline across the media pen, long curls flying behind you. The cameras rapidly start stuttering as you practically leap into Max’s arms when he tightly hugs you back, lifting you up off the ground easily. Congratulations, Maxie! you gush excitedly, beaming up at him with genuine emotion. I’m so happy for you, you deserve this win so much!

Pink dusts the cheeks of the now 4 time world champion from your attention as he looks down at your shorter frame, his muscular arms snugly around your waist. You couldn’t care less about the sticky champagne drenching his suit, because your own RB suit is wet from your celebration of winning the F2 race earlier that day. You too, schatje, Max returns warmly, the paparazzi completely ignored. Winning your first race, in Las Vegas too, from P11? I’m so proud of you! Now you're blushing as he tousles your hair affectionately. You two are just good friends, of course, and Max is in a relationship with a model - even though it's a rather turbulent one. But the F1 gossip mill is always running rampant with rumours about your relationship with Max - especially with the overfamiliar touches you're both now leaving with lingering hands on each other.

The interviewers flock at the chance to interview the F1 and F2 champions together, who provide them with entertaining answers fueled by the 3rd G&T that Max has already started drinking from his Redbull bottle. You smirk and raise your own bottle to cheers against his, making Max’s icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement as he realises you’re very much on the same wavelength of starting celebrations early. Great minds think alike, right Maxie? you wink conspiratorially, making him laugh. The media reps are basically forgotten as the pair of you end up in your own conversation of excited yapping about adrenaline fueled moments from your races, littered with inside jokes lost to the viewers.

When his PR manager calls Max's name, trying to prevent anymore dubious scandals, the blonde looks apologetically towards you, promising that the two of you would have to celebrate properly tonight, okay? You nod eagerly as you watch him go for the rest of his media duties, your smile so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. You’re still buzzing with adrenaline of your own win, and know that your own manager won’t be happy with the pictures of you practically climbing Max to hug him, not an inch of space between you as he pulls you against him. After all, the tabloids love to speculate that there’s something more between the Redbull 3 time - now 4! - world champion and you, the rising talent in F2 with your Redbull Academy seat, and one of the very few women on the grid.

That’s how you and Max had met - on the Redbull practice circuit, the two of you the only ones wanting to practise in horrific conditions of rain and hail. He’d been curious to see another car with the familiar Bull logo out on the track, and then found himself even more curious when the helmet came off to reveal your cutely flushed face and pretty curls that fell down your back. You became fast friends, after you got along your initial awe of 3x WDC Max Verstappen casually giving you driving pointers. He was actually an incredibly humble and loyal friend, and you appreciated how much time he'd spent out of his busy schedule to help you. Meanwhile, Max found your conversation and humour so refreshing compared to other junior drivers who would suck up to him, and you were never afraid to give Max a piece of your mind with your fiery, passionate personality - similar to his. For the first time in months since he'd started dating his demanding girlfriend, who always told Max off for being too loud or making immature jokes, Max found himself genuinely relaxing and speaking freely.

So with all the time on the practise track, and then off the track when you moved to Monaco and began attending the same parties, padel games and hungover brunches with Max, it was no surprise the two of you had become good friends - with a lot of speculation from the public. Many of his fans and friends disliked his current relationship with the pretty model who constantly used Max's name for her own clout with little interest in his passion for racing and e-sim gaming. In comparison, the easy laughs and witty banter seen frequently between you and Max had many conspiring that you'd be a far better match for the F1 champion. Especially in today's Las Vegas interviews, where the growing electric chemistry was palpable to viewers even through the screen.

Of course, you'd never admit to anyone that you secretly agreed with all the gossip columns. You and Max were perfectly suited for each other - but you would never be able to tell him, especially as you didn't have the slightest idea if Max liked you back or even found you attractive since he was so outgoing and touchy with all his close friends. For the past couple of months you'd been secretly pining for him, eyeing his moody girlfriend jealously as she yanked him from celebrations to go home early. You'd starting catching yourself staring up at the gorgeous blonde with heart eyes when he'd patiently explain some new racing tactic to you. No guy could come close to Max in your mind, and you're becoming increasingly sexually frustrated as the object of your desires stayed out of your reach but you aren't hook up with anyone else. So much so that in the week before Las Vegas, you'd started having some very dirty dreams involving a tall, muscular, blonde ending training early and bending you over the hood of his car as he whispered accented Dutch in your ear. Gonna let me fuck you now, baby? You'll take all of my cock, just like I taught you, right?

You knew it was so, so wrong to secretly lust after your friend and teammate like this - especially since he was taken. But tonight, with the thrill of winning your first ever F2 race in frickin' Vegas of all places, at the same time as Max taking his 4th WDC...Well, let's just say you were feeling especially wild tonight. Taking another shot of gin as you got ready in your spacious hotel bathroom, you admire the sight of yourself in the mirror. You're lot more dressed up than usual, out of your racing suit for once . Smokey eyeshadow compliments your wide, doe eyes and long hair you’d blown out in loose curls, all to show off the main view of a tight, sparkly red minidress that pushed up your tits perfectly. You certainly looked the part of a winner out on a hunt for the best way to celebrate tonight, and your best friend agreed as she whistled when walking into the bathroom. Girl, goddamn, that dress looks insanely sexy on you! she gushed, making you shoot her a pleased smile. Trying to catch a certain someone’s attention tonight? she added with a teasing look. Don’t worry, Max won’t be able to keep his eyes off you!

You let out an embarrassed yelp and tell her to shut up, you were not into him like that! Used to your denials, your friend rolls her eyes fondly and tells you you’d been practically moaning his name when you’d been napping earlier, you little slut! She puts you out of your misery when your face goes as red as your dress by adding in that she’d heard his girlfriend wasn’t here tonight to celebrate - apparently, she was pissed he hadn’t flown her out on his private jet and he’d decided to take a break. Winking, she tells you that Max is all yours tonight! You shoo her away but your heart’s nervously skipping a beat with the news. Slipping on your impressive six inch stilettos with glittery straps circling around your legs, you make your way to the after party downstairs.

The bass is thumping, drinks easily flowing and the crowded hotel nightclub buzzing with energy tonight where many of the racing drivers and fans have come to celebrate tonight. You’d meant to go find Max when you got there, but are pulled into excited hugs by lots of your own friends and team members to congratulate you. Soon enough, a few hours have passed and you’re very pleasantly tipsy, giggling and twirling around on the dance floor with your girlfriends and quite a few guys who are running appreciative looks over your pretty figure. But when your wide doe eyes finally meet icy blue across the room, all other men are forgotten and you're making your way over in a heartbeat.

Schatje, Max greets you easily, interrupting the conversations people crowding around him were trying to start. You give him an adoring smile as you wrap your arms around those ridiculously wide shoulders of his when he pulls you into him. The alcohol you’ve both been drinking lowers your boundaries as you giggle into his ears you’ve been looking everywhere for him! He chuckles, telling you that he’d been right here, but you’d been too popular with everyone else tonight. Too busy for me now that you’re a F2 winner? he teases. You playfully push his broad chest, admiring how toned his muscles are under your freshly manicured palm. Maybe, you tease back. I only enjoy the company of drivers who are five time world champions, at least. Seen Lewis anywhere?

Max’s gorgeous blue eyes crinkle in amusement as he tips his head back to laugh, and you're staring up his thick neck, enjoying the sight of his angular jaw and plush lips with a cute freckle you wanted so desperately to kiss. Reminding yourself not to get too carried away until you had some idea how Max felt, you tugged at his biceps to indicate you wanted him to follow you. He easily took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as you pull him towards the second floor. This was a pretty frequent for you two, breaking off from a crowded party to yap and gossip about some drama or catch up without all eyes on you. Just as you reach the stairs, one of your team’s engineers calls out to you, giving you a tight embrace that lasts a few seconds too long to be a friendly congratulations. You don’t really notice though, too relaxed and happy, and gush your thank you’s to him as he compliments how well you drove today. He’s pretty cute, and you’re starting to get carried away in the conversation until a warm, large palm curls possessively around your curvy hips. A shiver runs up your spine as Max’s deep voice drawls out behind you that he was bored, can you two go upstairs now?

You immediately turn your focus back onto the attractive blonde, assuring him Of course, Maxie! Your arm wraps around his bicep to steady yourself as you two walk upstairs, your high heels clicking against the marble floor. Your abruptly forgotten engineer receives a rather smug smirk from Max. When you’re finally alone in a tiny powder room, small enough that you have to stand close together with the locked door but well lit by an illuminated mirror atop the counter, Max can’t resist a snarky that engineer seemed very into you.

You dismiss Max’s claims, telling him to stop joking around as you leaned into the mirror to repply your lip gloss. No, he was definitely checking you out, Max responds behind you. His already deep accent you’d always had a thing for turns even huskier. Can’t blame him though…you look fucking incredible tonight.

Desire curls in your gut as you gasp at his unexpected compliment, glancing to see Max’s blue eyes locked onto you through the mirror. The Dutchman’s gaze is sharp despite the tipsy flush on his cheeks as it wanders up your lush thighs, accentuated by your stilettos, over your juicy ass and hips before coming to meet your pretty eyes. There’s no denying the hungry expression he wears, especially as you slowly finish applying your lip gloss, drawing his attention to your tempting pink lips. He looks like a lion starving to sink his fangs into his next meal.

You swallow, suddenly feeling a little shy as you avoid his gaze, even though you'd dolled up tonight just for him. You should be saying something like that to your girlfriend, you say suddenly. Where is she, anyways? Max rolls his eyes at the reminder, unamused with the change of topic. Fuck knows, he says exasperatedly. I don’t care anymore, we’re taking a break. You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow as you coyly ask Just a break? What, she’s trying to find a billionaire because a F1 millionaire just isn’t cutting it?

Max chuckles at your not so subtle dig, knowing how you felt about his rather superficial girlfriend. But instead of letting it go, tonight you decide to continue and ask him why he was still with her? He shrugs, telling you it was just easier at this point to stay with her instead of the drama of a messy breakup, and dating hot but 2D models was what everyone expected of F1 drivers anyway.

You narrow your eyes, a little annoyed now, and step closer to Max to announce that’s stupid, since when did he do what others expect of him instead of what he wanted? Besides, he deserved a girlfriend who actually cared for him as a person, who celebrated each of his wins and losses, and on a night like tonight - well, he should be getting whatever he wanted from her, you added playfully. You’ve ended up so close that Max can feel the warmth of your soft tits pressed up against his chest, the heels you’re wearing helping your height. He can't resist admiring at the way your cleavage bounces every time you passionately speak.

Whatever I want, huh? Max murmurs lowly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he suddenly leans down, making your eyes widen and thick lashes flutter. His thumb softly brushes across your cheeks to press against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly. He’s silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and then - What if all I want is you?

You gasp, both with excitement and shock at the realisation that Max returned your feelings. A coy smile appears on your lips as you press your hands to his firm chest, leaning up to whisper into his ear that he was lucky, then, because you'd been looking for a way to congratulate him properly.

He grins wickedly as you return his hungry look, your normally sparkling eyes now sultry with desire. Oh yeah? he says lowly, large palms skimming your waist. And what were you thinking would be the proper way to say congratulations?

There’s no going back to friendship after this, the blurred line well and truly vanishing. Thank god, because you couldn’t take the sexual frustration any longer. You’d heard that the sex after winning in Vegas is really good…and since he’d ended up winning the championship, he deserved to fuck you long and hard, right?

Max’s breath hitches at your offer, his already semi erect cock hardening. Fuck, schatje, he breathes, his lips so close to yours they’re almost touching. That mouth of yours…I didn’t know it could be so dirty. Makes me want to ruin it. You smile with faux innocence, batting your lashes up at him. Why don’t you, Max? Ruin me, then.

That’s all it takes for his lips to lock into yours, a gentle first kiss between friends quickly turning into a sloppy, heated make out that has you drooling against him. Been wanting to do this forever, Max groans in between deep kisses. You giggle, asking him what his girlfriend would think of that. Who? Max says, looking genuinely confused as he leans in again to slide his tongue in to explore your mouth. Oh, the ex? You laugh into the kiss, knowing any other woman would be out of the picture by the time you’ve shown Max just how he deserved to be treated tonight.

Suddenly you’re being lifted up easily to sit on the marble counter, squealing at his impressive strength. He greedily presses against you, your lush thighs parting easily around his narrow waist. It’s a good thing the club’s bass is so loud, otherwise any passerbys would hear the wet, sensual moans of you passionately making out. Max’s bear paws of hands squeeze your thighs and plump ass firmly, making your minidress ride up so he could feel your dampening panties as you start grinding against his impressive bulge through his jeans. Fuck, schatje, you’re already this wet? Max breathes, blue eyes blown with desire when he pulls back for a second as you both pant. Only for you, Maxie you say adoringly, running manicured hands along his broad shoulders and into his soft, blonde locks. Whatever you want tonight, remember? So tell me, what would the world champion like next?

Max inhales sharply at your obedient words, at how you’re looking up at his darkened blue eyes with so much devotion. It fills him with an inexplicable need to have you all to himself, not just tonight but every night from now. You decide to give him a gentle nudge, guiding his large palms to cup your full breasts through your dress. You keep looking at my chest, Maxie. Do you want to see what’s underneath my dress? Max’s jaw drops open as you help his fingers tug down your neckline, letting it fall to your waist and leaving you half dressed in a lacy navy blue bra.

My favourite colour, Max says absentmindedly, too distracted with the heavenly vision in front of him. When you giggle and tell him you know, that’s why you wore it! he groans lowly, yanking the lace down so your full breasts lay exposed to his hungry gaze. So fucking pretty, he breathes, you look so good in my colours, schatje.

You can’t respond because you’re moaning again from his thick fingers squeezing your bouncing tits, circling your sensitive, hard nipples before latching his mouth over your areolas. Oh, Maxie! Mmm, feels so good! He hums with your tits inside his talented mouth, enjoying your sweet moans in his ears as he leaves a trail of hickeys over your chest and neck. You’re getting wetter by the second, and judging from the large, hard bulge you’re desperately humping, you’re certain Max is just as turned on as you are. But tonight’s about congratulating him, and you can’t get too distracted, tugging at the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Your turn!

Max smirks, and yanks his shirt off in half a second. Now you’re temporarily short circuiting at his broad pecs, ogling his thick upper arms and shoulders that taper down to his slim hips. You can’t resist tracing a path down his defined abs with your manicured fingers, making Max tease you with like what you see, schatje?

You shut him up as your hand comes to rest just above his belt buckle, brushing his blonde happy trail but going no further. Hmm, I’ve seen better, you tease back coyly. His jaw hardens as you come tantalisingly close to where he really wants to feel you. When he wraps his hand around yours to stop your games, you surprise him again when you bring your joined hands up to your lips. Curiosity piqued, he watched you intently as you press the pad of his pointer finger onto your swollen lips like he’d done earlier…and then part your lips to slide him inside till the knuckle. Oh, fucking hell, Max hisses lowly.

You don’t miss a beat, staring right into his eyes sultrily as you swirl your tongue around his thick finger, letting him imagine what else your drooling, wet mouth could do. He swallows when you release him with a pop, only to oh so innocently bat your lashes at him to say did he have anything bigger for you to lick?

Max has a hand tangled in your curls instantly, pushing your all too willing body down onto your knees as he swears, saying if he’d known you were going to be such a good girl for him he’d have fucked you months ago. You whine desperately, making him completely entranced as you press soft kisses to his clothed erection. He unbuckles himself for you, the small room silent except for the clinking of metal making both of you impatient. You gasp when his generously sized cock emerges from his Calvin Klein boxers, his pink tip resting right in front of you. He almost cums right there when you look up at him with those wide doe eyes, the very picture of innocence but your filthy words anything but. It-it’s so big, Maxie. Even larger than what I’d dreamed about.

And then you’re messily kissing up and down his engorged shaft, smearing your lipgloss all over as you pant and drool over his length. Oh my fucking god, Max groans, head slamming into the door behind him. That mouth of yours, baby- Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s rendereded speechless when you begin suckling on his hypersensitive tip, circling it with full concentration just like you’d done with his finger. You don’t break eye contact, pulling back slightly to pump his base with two hands and blow air over his angry, swollen cockhead. Tastes so good, Maxie. ‘M gonna worship your cock tonight, just like my world champion deserves. Your throat goes completely lax as you take his impressive length all the way to the base, gurgling and drooling messily as you hollow your cheeks to suck firmly.

Fuck! Jesus, schat, baby, I’m gonna - Max is panting heavily, cheeks adorably red and flushed as he tangles his large palms into your curls. Go-gonna fuck that insane mouth of yours now, okay?

You hum in agreement, sending vibrations running down his shaft. He doesn’t waste any time then, dragging your face forward and roughly thrusting himself into your wet, slack mouth. Loud, obscene sounds of the dirty blowjob you’re performing for him are filling the air, and there’s no doubt anyone listening in the hallway would be able to tell exactly what going on behind the door. But the both of you couldn’t care less, too far gone. And if your mindblowing deepthroat hadn’t been enough, you’re whimpering in between thrusts that he’s so big, you bet he could fuck your tits at the same time as your mouth-

He doesn’t even need to process that sexy mental image because you’re now using your free hands to cup your bouncing breasts and wrap them snugly around the base of his cock, his leaking tip still thrusting in and out of your mouth. Like this, see Maxie?

Max roars in approval at the filthy display, the warmth of your soft tits sending him over the edge. Gonna cum now, he pants breathlessly. Open your mouth for me, baby, you’ll swallow it all, right?

You follow his command immediately, desperately saying please, please Maxie, wanna taste you so bad, you can cum wherever you want-

He slaps his heavy cockhead against your chubby cheeks first, and then onto your pink tongue as you poke it out, collecting drops of precum from his angry red tip. He’s meanly chuckling as you go cross eyed from his cock whacking your face, squealing with excitement. Guess the only thing that shuts you up is my cock in your mouth.

You nod eagerly, panting with your lips wide open expectantly as you stare up at him, your pretty makeup completely destroyed from the messy blowjob. The sight of you so desperate for him is what tips him over, and with a silent moan he jerks himself off to flood your mouth with a generous, creamy load. So much that you struggle to swallow it, some of it leaking out the corners of your lips to drip onto your heaving tits. But you take most of it just like you promised him, licking your lips rather sluttily before opening your mouth to show him. See, Maxie? Drank it all for you.

He yanks you up off the floor, pressing your soft jiggling chest up against his hard pecs as he rewards you with a deep kiss. Did fucking amazing, sweetheart, he sighs into you. That was definitely the best head I’ve ever gotten. You flush from his compliment, sultry eyes turning shy now from his praise. But the Dutch Lion’s appetite isn’t satiated tonight. He pulls your dress back up, wiping away your smeared gloss and smudged mascara before redressing himself. But we aren’t finished just yet, schatje, he croons as he gently untangles your curls from your dangly earrings. You bite your lip, hanging onto his each word as he says After all, you’d won in Vegas too. He’ll have to show you how good the sex is, now.

Desire darkens your bright, dazed eyes at the thought of Max finally fucking you. You bury your face in his thick neck, wrapping your arms around him as you plead for him to please take you upstairs, you needed him so bad, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He chuckles at your cute begging, discreetly leading you down the hallway that’s thankfully empty while keeping you firmly pressed to his chest. As much as he’d wiped away the streaks of mascara, any of your friends would only have to take one look to know what you’d been upto. The ride up the discreet service elevator is another test of self restraint, the camera in the corner stopping the both of you from outright debauchery. But you can’t stop weakly grinding against Max’s muscular thigh that separates your plush legs, clinging onto him as he whispers dirty things in your ear with that Dutch voice you loved. Tell me what kind of naughty dreams you’ve been having about me, he demands. And of course, you oblige, turning his ears pink and voice huskier when he finds out just what you’d been secretly pining for.

He lifts you up, your legs straddling his waist easily when you finally reach your floor, an carried you down the hallway. After you’re clumsily swiping your room card with Max’s very distracting lips leaving kisses to your throat, you find yourself inside your dark hotel room at last. The Vegas city lights stream in from the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating Max’s handsome form as he looks down to drink in the pretty sight of you. Fucking finally, Max groans, ripping his shirt and pants off in one go and kicking his shoes to the side. He wraps an arm around your waist to pick you up again and gently toss you onto the king sized bed, making you giggle excitedly as you land with a bounce. And then he’s on top of you, eyes dark and a cocky smirk on his face as he presses his warm length against your soaked panties. See what you’ve done to me, schatje? I’m already hard again. Completely ruined me for anyone else with this perfect body. He finishes his sentence with a slow roll of his hips, making you moan breathily at the contact, with your panties so wet they’re practically stuck to you and you can feel all of him.

He unzips you out of your dress, leaving heated kisses all over your body as he admires the sight of your navy lingerie set, telling you he’d buy you ten more so you could wear them for him after every race when he fucked you. You keen at his attention, at the thought that Max wants you again and again, eyes teary as you start to try and grind your hips against him. You’ll have to be patient, schatje Max says in an amused tone, sounding much more in control than the moaning, dripping mess he’s turned you into. You teased me so much after all, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now, right? He kisses your ankles softly as he unties your strappy heels, letting them fall to the floor. And then, with a strong hand on each of your delicate ankles, he hungrily takes in the sight of your dripping pussy. Your tummy flutters almost nervously in anticipation of what’s coming.

Turns out Max, just like you, always held true to his promises. You’d had to be very patient as he had his turn of teasing you mercilessly, making you cum all over his thick fingers that stretched you out and skilled tongue that found your sensitive clit almost immediately. And when he’s finally ripping the condom packet open and slapping your core with his heavy cock, you’re practically crying.Your aching pussy finally gets what she needs when you’re stuffed impossibly full as he slides in to the hilt.

The sight of you completely ruined underneath him, tits bouncing with each powerful thrust he delivers, your nails burying into his strong arms to steady yourself, unlocks a carnal desire in Max. Whatever I want, right schatje? He hums, bending down so your sweaty foreheads touch, and you nod quickly through your deep pants. Even if I wanted to fuck you raw? You’ll let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants as you squeeze down on him instinctively when you imagine him inside you with no protection. Ohmygod Maxie, yes, please, fuck your cum into me, please! The Dutchman’s outright filthy request has your head spinning with desire and you’re babbling half incoherently. Pulling out momentarily and making you whine, he yanks the condom off before sinking back into your creamy hole. You both moan in pure ecstasy at the euphoric feeling of skin to skin sex.

Max fucks you in multiple positions that night, passionately into the soft mattress, meanly up against the cold window, and roughly on the plush sofa chaise with your face buried in the cushions and your red asscheeks up in the air for him to slap. Next time I win you’ll let me fuck you here, too, okay baby? he demands as he fingers your winking back hole while still thrusting into your dripping cunny. You can only let out a high pitched whine, jiggling your hips back onto his cock in approval, too fucked out to respond with words at this point. And when he finally cums, his impressive stamina outlasting yours on his second orgasm, he makes sure to sink in deep and flood your heavenly walls with his thick white release. You give him an open mouthed lazy kiss as a silent thank you for the best fuck of your entire life, hoping he got the message.

You’re pretty certain he did, because the next morning you’re awoken by a heavy length pressed up against your ass. You’d both passed out in the (thankfully clean) spare second bed after running through the shower together for five minutes to clean up the sticky mess last night. The 4th championship celebration sex was definitely record breaking , Max murmurs into your ear playfully. But it’s not complete without the slow morning after sex. You’ll let me show you now, right schat?

_____________________________________________

A/N: WAR IS OVER THE CHILDREN ARE OUT, BIRDS SINGING CAUSE MAX IS RIGHTFULLY 4 X WDC 😭😭😭 the way all the haters were silenced. Everyone’s trying ride his dick now including skysports I love to see it, as they should

Also guys 10 followers away from 2k?!? Wtaf 😳 I’m so sorry for the delayed post, thank you for being so patient. Work has been really busy this month but going on Xmas break in a couple weeks so will have more time to post!!!! Keep sending me ur saucy asks yall I love reading them <3

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 driver reader #max verstappen x oc #18+ mdni #formula 1 #smut #mv1

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millllenniawrites · 2 years ago

Note

Mack!! I am watching baseball and thought I'd ask: How are you enjoying the season so far?

I honestly have not watched a complete game this season cause I’ve been so busy with work though I DID watch my boy win the home run derby and that was a blast

(also I’m so sorry this was sitting in my inbox for so long I literally just saw it I am the worst at using this app)

#I’ve watched bits and pieces of games #and inning here or there #I miss the game so much tbh #this summer has been a wild ride #dany!!

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ordinary-barbie · 4 months ago

Text

victory lap.

football player!rafe x fem!reader

summary: Your boyfriend Rafe has just won the biggest football game of his career, and he knows exactly how he wants to celebrate.

tags: fem!reader, cursing, unprotected p in v sex (though reader mentions being on the pill), oral (both receiving), fingering, consent checks, doggy style, creampie, praise kink, usage of “good girl,” cum swallowing, dirty talk, pet names ("baby," "princess"), slightly possessive rafe

word count: 1.7k

18+ only - minors do not interact!!!

note: I'm an Eagles fan so this is absolutely self-indulgent. Go Birds!!!

Tonight felt like an absolute dream.

You'd been with Rafe for nearly six years, since your freshman year of college. Through that time, you witnessed many highs and lows of your boyfriend's football career, celebrating after the big wins and comforting him through tough losses. And tonight, all that hard work had culminated in the ultimate prize: a Super Bowl win.

The Eagles' win had been oh-so-satisfying for you after the heartbreaking loss to the Chiefs two years ago, but the fact that the love of your life played a part in it made it even sweeter. As the confetti sprinkled down, covering the field in a sea of midnight green, silver, and black, you and Rafe found your way to each other, embracing like you hadn't seen each other in weeks. During the game, you'd been a bundle of nerves, only truly relaxing during Kendrick's halftime performance, but now you finally felt like you could breathe easy.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," you said, your eyes welling up with happy tears. You grabbed Rafe's face and kissed him deeply; he returned the kiss with equal fervor and let his hands slide to your ass. Normally you wouldn't be down for such blatant PDA, but it was a special occasion.

The night passed in a blur, filled with photo ops and plenty of revelry. The streets of New Orleans buzzed with energy, and you lived for it. You celebrated with and embraced your fellow WAGs, who'd become your family over the past two years. Rafe was in his element, popping bottles of champagne and laughing with his fellow players, and it made your heart swell with pride.

You were still feeling post-game euphoria, but part of you was ready to return to your hotel and wind down. You clung to Rafe, putting your head in his lap, and he flashed you a fond grin, stroking your hair.

"You ready to head out, baby?" Rafe murmured in your ear, and you hummed in response.

The two of you said your goodbyes and caught a ride back to the Hilton. You loved getting all dolled up for gameday, but the thought of showering and changing into some comfy pajamas was very appealing.

Once you and Rafe arrived back in your room, you stripped down to your bra and panties, preparing for a nice, long, hot shower. Rafe’s eyes hungrily raked up and down your body, and it gave you a thrill that even after all these years, he was still obsessed with your body.

"You gonna join me in the shower, Rafey, or just stand there?" you teased him, your grin a mile wide.

Rafe chuckled, his eyes darkening. "Would love to. But there's something I wanna do first, baby. I want to celebrate my win with you—properly."

A shiver of pleasure ran through your body. "Tell me you want this too, baby," Rafe said, gazing intently at you.

You bit your lip, looking at Rafe with a burning desire. "Yes, Rafey. Want this so bad."

Before you could even blink, Rafe's lips were on yours, kissing you with a passion only reserved for moments like these. Soon, though, he began to roam, nipping and kissing at your jaw, your neck, that special space behind your ear that drove you wild.

Rafe expertly unhooked your bra with one hand, flinging it to another corner of the room, before picking you up and tossing you onto the bed. He sank to his knees, slowly pulling down your panties and letting out a pleasured moan at the gossamer strands of slick that clung to the fabric.

"Fucking pretty," he marveled, before hungrily diving into your wet cunt. Rafe loved playing football—he lived for the game—but his second favorite pastime was eating pussy, without a doubt. You writhed in pleasure as Rafe's tongue glided along your folds, pumping in and out of your opening before finally giving your clit some much-needed attention.

"Rafe—oh fuck—that feels so good," you whimpered as Rafe languidly sucked at your clit.

You felt a low heat in your belly as you reached your peak. Your hands flew to Rafe's hair, gently tugging at it as he took the hint and buried his face even closer into your pussy.

Your vision went white for a second as you cummed, coating Rafe's face with your slick. "Holy shit, baby," Rafe murmured, bending down to kiss you and give you a taste of the essence on his lips. "You taste so fuckin' good."

You noticed the massive tent Rafe was sporting in his pants and moaned, rubbing your legs together. “Let me take care of you, baby,” you purred. “The champ deserves his prize, after all.”

Rafe grinned lazily, quickly pulling off his pants and boxers before lying back on the bed. You knelt before him, salivating at his dick, its pink mushroom tip already wet with precum. You went to work cleaning his tip, causing your boyfriend to lose his composure.

"Shit, baby, you're so good with your mouth," Rafe said, letting out a moan as you licked up and down his shaft.

You lowered your head, taking Rafe's length into your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, mouthing and licking at his cock while you fondled his balls with both hands.

"Ah, fuck, just like that, baby," Rafe groaned. "Good girl."

Those two words were like a lightning bolt to your core, spurring you to speed up your actions. Rafe grunted, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Baby—shit—I'm gonna cum." Rafe let out a particularly feral grunt before spilling down your throat, watching as you dutifully swallowed every drop.

Rafe paused, lost in a post-nut daze, before lifting you and laying you back on the bed. He took his sweet time kissing every square inch of your body, making sure to give your tits extra attention. Rafe kissed and sucked at your nipples, eliciting more whines from you as you gripped the bedsheets.

"Rafey, you're such a tease," you wailed, bucking your hips as Rafe lavished your thighs with kisses.

Rafe smirked devilishly at you. "Impatient, are we? My pretty girl that desperate f'me to fuck her stupid? Don't worry—I'll give you what you need, yeah?"

Rafe beckoned you to join him back on the bed, effortlessly turning you around so you were lying on your stomach. You stuck your ass up in the air, feeling a giddy anticipation in your gut.

Rafe slowly pushed himself into you, both of you moaning at the sensation. You said a silent word of thanks to whoever invented birth control as Rafe gripped your hips, thrusting his cock in and out of your pussy.

"Goddamn, this pussy...so tight, hot, and wet for me," Rafe growled, snapping his hips as he buried himself deep inside you.

You felt dizzy, your thoughts filled with nothing except the immense pleasure Rafe was giving you. "Oh Rafey—fuck, right there," you sighed, groaning as his cock hit your g-spot.

"Can't wait to fill up this pretty pussy," Rafe muttered, deliciously stretching your walls with his length. "Yeah? You want my cum baby?" Your cunt clamped down on Rafe's dick in response, causing his eyes to roll back.

"Squeezing me so good, baby," he praised.

Just as you were in the throes of passion, Rafe...stopped, slowly pulling out of you. You pouted, already missing your boyfriend's touch.

"'m sorry, baby," Rafe said, kissing your forehead. "Just wait a sec, I got an idea."

Rafe got off the bed and rifled through your suitcase before finding a kelly green jersey with "Cameron" and his number on the back. "Y'know...I always had this fantasy of fuckin' my girl with my jersey on," he said, flashing the dirtiest grin. "Will you indulge me for the night, princess?"

You sat up, eyeing your boyfriend flirtatiously. "Hell yeah, that sounds really hot."

Rafe returned to the bed, sitting you on his lap and watching you pull the jersey over your head. Then he quickly bent you over the mattress, stuffing you with his cock again. He pistoned his hips, admiring his name on your back and the fact that you were wearing his jersey—and nothing else.

"You look so damn sexy with my name on you," Rafe drawled. "Shows that you're fuckin' mine, baby."

You cried out, feeling your legs start to shake. "Ah, yes, Rafe—'m all yours."

"Are you close, baby?" Rafe asked. When you nodded, he slid a hand down between your legs and rubbed circles on your clit. "C'mon baby. Make a mess all over my cock."

Your insides felt like a shaken-up soda bottle that was about to explode. You let out a yelp as your pussy spasmed, creaming all over Rafe's cock.

"I'm close, baby," Rafe warned, burying his head in the side of your neck. Rafe's hips stuttered as he released his load, and you sighed happily at the sensation of his warm, sticky cum filling you up.

Rafe slowly pulled out of you, licking his lips at the sight of his spunk dribbling out of you. He pulled you close to him, nuzzling your neck. "Baby—I think that was some of the best sex we've ever had."

You giggled. "You just won a freakin' Super Bowl, Rafe. You deserve nothing but the best."

Rafe looked at you fondly. "This is gonna sound so fuckin' corny but with you, I already feel like I've won. I'm the luckiest man on the damn planet."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "That was corny as fuck—but I liked it."

"And I like you," Rafe easily replied, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

You giggled. "I'll like you even more once we're both cleaned, though."

Rafe chuckled. "One shower, coming up, princess." He whisked you away to the bathroom, where y'all actually showered—you were both too spent to engage in more funny business.

Once the two of you were fully clean and in your coziest pjs (and had done your best to clean up the sheets), you and Rafe snuggled together in bed. You gazed lovingly at Rafe as you stroked his hair.

"Whatcha staring at, pretty girl?" Rafe asked, an amused glint in his eye.

"Just thinking about my boyfriend. He's really handsome and funny and he just won a Super Bowl," you playfully replied.

"Wow, he sounds like a real catch," Rafe remarked, stroking your hip.

"Yeah, he's pretty great. I'm lucky to have him," you said, gently kissing Rafe's lips.

Today had been one hell of a day. But as thrilling as the big game and all the festivities were, you had the best time right here, in Rafe's arms.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #tiff writes ✏️

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