#wcbb

[melobballin]

no pain no game. juju watkins

✶ warnings ✶ 2.8k words count. black!fem reader. juju is being difficult and got a smart mouth. reader being worse. pt!reader. injured!juju. flirty!juju. agnst!juju. wlw. fluffy fluffy stuff.

"WE WANT YOU ON JUJU." Excuse you ? That's all your supervisor said to you before turning her heels and walking out of the classroom. No context. No time for you to blink or ask questions, let alone process what the fuck just happened.

Perfect timing. It was mid semester, you were already knee-deep in the trenches, buried under textbooks, assignments, and finals prep, trying really hard to keep your GPA from tanking.

But yeah, sure, babysitting juju sounded good, real good. Love that for you.

you’d handled injured athletes before—campus regulars, nothing wild. You could do this. No sweat.

But watkins ? That was a whole other story. juju meant headlines, pressure.

You were actually there when it happened. Your best friend, Nia, had basically dragged you to the court that night, guilt-tripping you with the "we never go out anymore !". And you remember it very vividly — her on the court, clutching her knee like it just stabbed her in the back mid-drive. Ever since, the whole department’s been walking on eggshells like somebody died or something.

You weren’t alarmed though. at all.

Yeah, it hurt to see her in pain like that, acl is no joke. But you somehow had no doubt that she was going to get through it in no time.

Still, as sure as you were, you had now a job to do. And baby, you damn good at your job. Top-of-the-class, resident miracle worker type good. Torn ACL ? Please. Move aside. You’ve handled worse.

Star player or not, bones heal the same.

“So… you said yes?” Nia called from the kitchen, halfway through some late-night snack that smelled like burnt remnants.

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “I didn’t even get the chance to say no. She hit me with the ‘you’re doing it’ and dipped.”

Nia strolled over, plate in hand, and dropped down next to you, pretending to be an emotional support. “And you mad ‘cause… what? You scared you’re actually gonna do a good job and fix her knee and end up in her bed or sum ?"

You side-eyed her. "Be serious please."

“I am,” she mumbled through a bite. “That girl is fine and you got godly hands. It’s like destiny.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. Juju was fine as hell. And intense. And slightly terrifying.

“I don’t care how good her crossover is,” you said, scrolling on your phone. “If she comes in with a bad attitude and try to run me over, I swear—”

“Girl,” Nia cut you off, grinning. “quit playing. You love a little spice. And you do be killin’ it out here. Stop worrying so much.”

You sighed, flipping onto your back. She smirked. “Anyway, make this entertaining for me. I’m bored or whatever.”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “I should jump you.”

Safe to say you kept scrolling through your phone that night, looking for her ig.

JUJU WAS LATE. Not the 2 minutes kinda late, the kinda late that made you be on ten. The rehab gym was hot and humid which was disgusting. your baby hairs were already fluffing out. Great start.

When Juju finally strolled in—hoodie pulled tight over her head, brace strapped on like armor, headphones jammed deep in her ears, and a blank face, you were already in position — file in hand, game face locked.

She didn't even glance your way. Just walked right past like you were invisible.

Okay. Cute.

You tapped her AirPods case on the table, trying to stay cool and calm. Click. Click. "You can take those out, missy." you said, finally putting her AirPods case on the table softly. "You won’t need them to hoop."

Nothing. Just a pair of eyes blinking at you like you were crazy.

She sat down, barely even breathed. Instead she stared at you, trying to figure out what the fuck you were talking about.

"You must be an intern or something," she finally said. "Ain’t no way you just asked me to hoop when i still got screws in my knee."

"I’m not. I’m the reason your ass gon’ be back on court. Now take the ball."

She stared. You stared back. If she wanted to waste her time staring into your soul, you weren’t going to waste yours.

“Just take the damn ball,” you said again, softer now. “I wanna see how you move. That’s it.”

Her eyes flicker around the room like she’s trying to will herself into confidence before snatching the ball from your hands. She barely bounces the ball before halting, the brace making her movement stiff and unfamiliar.

“Take your time.” you say, voice gentle but steady. “There’s no rush.”

She didn’t answer, just took another stiff step, the brace groaning under pressure. Her jaw clenched, her shoulders stiff. Then—

“Fuck,” she hissed, almost too quiet. You stepped closer. “That your leg talking or your pride?”

She side-eyed you. “Don’t start with me.”

“Already did. You showed up to my session late, full of attitude, and acting like I begged you to be here but can’t handle a little hooping.”

That got her attention. She turned to face you fully now. “Nobody begged. You lucky they trust you with me.”

You raised a brow. “No. You’re lucky. I’m the best.”

She let out a short laugh. “cocky on the first day ? Crazy.”

You smiled sweetly. “I’m not cocky. I’m confident. Unlike you right now. I don’t crumble when the pressure’s on.”

She licked her lips, slowly. “Yeah, we’ll see how long you keep talkin’ that shit when I’m back on the court… or in your face.”

You swallowed hard. One thing about you—if somebody came at you with flames, you were matching it with a wildfire. And Juju wouldn’t be no exception.

You stepped back, shaking your head. “Alright, hoop barbie. Let’s get to work.”

But she didn’t move. Just looked you over once—slow—and smirked.

“Bet.”

to : judea (watkins)

ur gonna get through this.

imma make sure you do.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHEN IT HAPPENED EXACTLY. Maybe it was after the fourth session when she finally showed up on time, hair slicked into a ponytail this time, knee brace strapped tighter and eyes just a little less dead. Or maybe it was the seventh, when she made that sarcastic comment about your outfit and you caught her smirking behind her water bottle.

Either way, it was clear that something in the air had shifted.

The routine was… comfortable. Begrudgingly so. She’d come in with that same grimace, all hoodie and bad attitude, and you’d hit her with your most professional voice, clipboard in hand, instructions clear. She’d push back every time—��Why we doing this again?” or “You tryna kill me today ?”but her body never lied. She followed through. She moved. She tried.

You’d both pretend it wasn’t a big deal.

Even when she made little comments like, “You always wear those leggings?” with a cocked brow and a glance that lasted too long.

"You’re always up in peoples business?” You didn’t entertain her. Much. Just smiled to yourself, flipped the page on your clipboard, and gave her an extra set just for being smart and annoying.

Tonight, though, it was different.

The gym was quiet, just you two again. Everyone else had cleared out early, and she was doing balance drills on the BOSU ball, arms stretched out like wings, focused as hell.

“Don’t lock your knee,” you warned, hovering nearby. “You’ll regret it in the morning.”

“I regret a lot of things already,” she muttered, wobbling slightly but catching herself. “One more won’t kill me.”

You gave her a look. She met it, sharp and tired.

“Alright,” you sighed, grabbing her towel. “That’s enough for today.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I can do one more set.”

“You’ve done five, juju. I’m not playing with you.”

She stepped down, chest rising and falling like she’d just run laps instead of standing still. Her eyes were darting around again, like she couldn’t sit still in her own skin. You saw it coming before she even opened her mouth.

“I don’t know who I am without ball.”

You blinked.

She wasn’t looking at you. Just standing there, towel hanging from her fingers, lips parted like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Like…” she exhaled, sharp. “Everybody keeps acting like I’m gonna bounce right back, like it’s just a matter of time. Rehab. Surgery. Boom, I’m back on the court. But what if I don’t bounce back ? What if I’m… not that juju anymore?”

Her voice cracked on “juju.”

Your chest tightened. You stepped closer, gentle but sure. “Ju.”

She flinched a little at the sound of that nickname.

“You are still her. You’re just injured. Not erased.”

She laughed bitterly, wiping her face with her hoodie sleeve. “Yeah, easy for you to say. You ain’t the one waking up every day wondering if people only see you for how fast you run a play.”

You crossed your arms, firm. “No. But I see people fall apart in here every week. And guess what ? I’ve watched ‘em get back up. You’re not special.”

That made her look at you.

“I mean—no offense,” you added quickly, biting back a smirk. “You’re talented. Ridiculous, even. But you’re not the only person who’s ever had to fight for their comeback. And you sure as hell won’t be the last.”

Her eyes were glossy now, and her jaw flexed like she was trying to bite down her emotions.

“I hate this shit,” she muttered. “I hate needing help.”

“I know,” you said, softer now. “But you don’t have to like it. You just gotta let it work.”

She stared at you a little too long.

And then, like instinct, she leaned into you—shoulder brushing yours as she sank onto the bench nearby. She wasn’t crying. Not exactly. But her silence said more than enough.

You sat beside her, gently passing her the water bottle she’d ignored earlier. For the first time, she took it without a snide remark. “…Thanks,” she murmured.

You nodded, tapping your nails against your clipboard. “So, next session, we start resistance band training.”

She groaned, head tilting back dramatically. “Do you actually hate me ? You love torturing me.”

You smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’d torture anyone for their own good.” Juju glanced sideways at you, smile faint but real. “You really believe I’ll make it back?”

“I told you I was gonna make sure you do. I don’t play about my job. Plus, I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I didn’t.”

Her gaze lingered. And for once, she didn’t say anything back.

Didn’t need to. The look on her face said everything : thank you, even if I don’t want to say it out loud.

YOU SWEAR JUJU HAS BEEN ON SOMETHING DIFFERENT LATELY. Not much had changed in the routine itself. Rehab drills. Knee work. Progress checks. But the energy though ? Completely different. She shows up with snacks now—sometimes two, casually tossing you one with a lazy, “figured you’d forget to eat.”

She still had that same tough, deadpan delivery, but it didn’t hit the same no more. Not when she lingers a second too long near your desk. Not when she catches your eye in the mirror while she’s stretching and smirks like she knew exactly what she was doing.

One afternoon, she flopped down on the mat, arms stretched over her head, all sweaty and grinning. You raised a brow. “You okay or just being dramatic?”

“Both,” she wheezed. “But if I die, I want you to know… I was right. That playlist does suck.”

You chucked your pen at her. “I should let your knee lock up for that.”

“Oh ? So violence is your love language?”

You froze for a beat.

She then laughed—really laughed—before sitting up slowly, stretching out her arms again. “You should see your face,” she teased, biting down a grin.

“Okay now you’re pissing me off,” you said, clearing your throat, flipping a page on your clipboard for no reason other than to stop yourself from blushing. “Go back to work.”

She was still grinning, smug and pleased with herself.

But then there were softer moments, too.

Like the time her brace pinched her skin mid-session and you immediately knelt to adjust it, fingers brushing against her calf. She sucked in a breath—not from pain, but from the way your hands moved.

You glanced up. “Too tight?” You softly asked.

Her eyes were already on you. “Nah. Just not used to people touchin’ me like that.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. Just fixed the strap gently and stood back up.

Or the time she stayed after a session, claiming she needed to ice longer. You both ended up sitting on the floor by the wall, sharing a bottle of Gatorade and talking about nothing—her love-hate relationship with her coach, your childhood memories.

She bumped your knee with hers. “You real easy to talk to, you know that?”

“Keep gassing me up and I’m gonna start charging you per session.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is. Trappin’ me with kindness so you can run up my insurance bill.”

You snorted. “Exactly. Imma finesse your ass.”

You both laughed. And it lingered. Longer than it should’ve.

Then came the night it rained. Hard. She was the last person of your schedule again, and you were packing up when she peeked around the door, hoodie soaked, sneakers squeaking on the floor.

You raised a brow. “You walked in this?”

“Had no umbrella,” she shrugged. “Didn’t know if I’d make it on time. Didn’t wanna miss you.”

Your breath caught. Real subtle.

“Come here,” you said, grabbing a towel and tossing it at her. “You look like a wet cat.”

She took it and laughed, wiping her face. “You like cats?”

“No, but I’m starting to tolerate you, so maybe.”

“Oh wow,” she grinned. “I’m honored.”

She stayed longer that night. Sat with you while you finished your notes. She told you about her siblings. About her mom. How people all expected her to “tough it out,” and get back better even when she was hurting.

You just listened, letting her talk.

And at one point, she leaned against your shoulder—barely there, just enough to feel her warmth.

Neither of you said anything.

But she whispered, after a minute, “You kinda make it feel okay to be weak for a second.”

You turned your head toward her, heart thudding. “You’re not weak, Juju.”

She met your eyes. “Yeah… but you make it feel valid, ★. Even when it’s not true, ” That was the first time she called you by your name, too. Soft. Like it meant something.

And you swore, right then and there, something had shifted for good.

From : ju 🤍

u coming tonight right ?

I’m so ready !!!

To : ju 🤍

staff needs me at the center sorry

ik you’ll be killing it. proud of u <3

YOU DIDN’T GO TO THE GAME. You sat in your room, lights low, music on but not loud, your phone flipped upside down on the bed beside you. Every so often, you glanced at it. Waiting. Not for the score—you already knew she’d kill it—but maybe some word from her. A sign. Something small and stupid, like a “we won” or a selfie from the locker room.

Nothing came.

And you hated how disappointed you felt. Because it was your choice, right ? You’d made the call. You pulled back. Slowed the texts, the lingering touches. Didn’t show up to her last rehab session. Pretended like you were just busy.

It wasn’t a punishment.

You just… didn’t know how to let yourself want her. Not without getting burned.

The thing was—when she was hurt, she needed you. But now ? She was Juju again. Star of the team. Walking headline. Game day was hers. The roar of the crowd, the bright lights, the whole she’s back narrative. And you? You were just someone who helped her get there.

So you kept your distance. Told yourself it was safer that way.

Until your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

From : juju 🤍

open the door.

I’m outside.

You stared at the message. Didn’t move at first. Then—three knocks.

You opened the door slowly, and there she was.

Still in sweats, hair tied up, slides on, backpack slung over one shoulder. Her eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

“I waited for you,” she said, voice low.

You blinked. “I know.”

She stepped inside without asking. Dropped her bag by the wall. Didn’t sit. Just turned to face you.

“You really weren’t gonna come?”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t think it would matter.”

She laughed, short and sharp. “Right. ’Cause I just spent all these months blowing up your phone for fun.”

You stayed quiet.

“I looked for you,” she said, voice tighter now. “I kept checking the stands like an fucking idiot.”

You let out a breath. “Juju, what do you want from me?”

She stared at you. “I want to know why the hell you started acting like none of it meant anything.”

You swallowed. Looked down. “Because I didn’t want to make it harder when it ended.”

“When what ended?”

“This,” you said, motioning vaguely. “You. Me. Whatever… this was. It was never gonna last, and I’d rather stop now than wait for you to ghost me when everything goes back to normal.”

She flinched. “You think I’m just gonna dip on you because I got back on my feet ?”

“I think you don’t know what you want,” you said, softer. “And I think when you do figure it out, it won’t be me.”

Silence stretched out between you. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“You really think I’m that shallow?” she asked, voice lower now, almost hurt.

“I think you’re used to people wanting you for what you do. Not who you are. And I think that makes it easy to walk away when shit gets real.”

She didn’t say anything for a long second. Then she finally moved—slow, like she was figuring it out in real time. Walked closer until there was barely a foot between you.

“I’m not good at this,” she said, honest and quiet. “Not with feelings. I don’t talk. I just… I play. I move. I keep it moving. But this?” She gestured between you. “I wasn’t trying to just pass time. I needed you. And not just for the knee.”

You looked at her. Really looked at her. She looked tired. Still sweaty around the hairline. Eyes puffy like she might’ve cried on the way here. And you softened, just a little.

“I was scared,” she admitted. “I still am. You saw me at my lowest. And instead of clowning me, you stayed. That shit… messed me up a little. Made me wanna be soft, even when I didn’t know how.”

Your chest tightened. You didn’t trust it. But damn, it felt true.

“I like you,” she said, no frills. “And I don’t wanna go back to my life like none of this happened. Not without you in it.”

You didn’t respond right away. You were still processing the fact that she was standing in your room, post-win, looking at you like you were the prize.

Then you stepped forward. Just enough to close the space.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She shrugged, hand grazing yours. “We figure it out. Slowly. If you want.”

You hesitated, then laced your fingers with hers. Felt her thumb move softly over the back of your hand.

“I want,” you said. “But I need you to mean it.”

“I do,” she murmured.

And then you kissed her.

Not rushed. Not needy. Just real. Gentle, warm, slow like exhale after a long-ass day. Her hands found your waist, yours found her hoodie. She leaned into you like she’d been holding that tension for too long. And you let yourself fall for a second. Let it feel good.

She tightened her arm around your waist. “You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

You didn’t answer. Just held her a little tighter.

Because you were starting to believe it.

And for once, that was enough.

© written by melobballin | please be gentle with me that’s my first writing for ju 🤍 hope you’ll like it !

[fuddsgf]

i’ve been praying - nika mühl

summary 𞠬: nika does anything possible to get you back

warnings: mentions of death in a subtle way.

tags: @patscorner @cherryswisherz @kmoneymartini @authentic-girl03 @bueckersverse @vamptizm

1 2

she whispered it to the dark — your name — like a habit she never managed to break. some nights it sounded like a plea. others, like a warning.

it echoed in rooms you never stepped into, hung in the air like smoke that wouldn’t clear.

she did everything.

she traced the path you used to walk home, retraced old messages like maybe she’d missed a sign.

called your phone, not expecting you to answer — but needing the ring.

needed to hear something.

she begged gods she didn’t believe in. swore she saw your shadow once, chased it until her knees bled.

people told her to move on. that time would do its job. she smiled. nodded.

“let them talk.” she told herself

they didn’t understand — you weren’t gone. you were missing. there’s a difference.

you didn’t say goodbye, you didn’t finish your sentence, you didn’t stop loving her, so she couldn’t stop either.

even when the trail went cold. even when your voice slipped from memory. even when the pictures stopped looking like you.

but your name — your name was the only thing she never let go of.

even after everything else was gone. even after it should’ve been impossible.

even after the ground settled.

she didn’t go looking for it.

she’d stopped going anywhere with purpose a long time ago. but her hands had a way of opening drawers without thinking, of digging through the past like it still had something left to offer. it was buried under an old sweatshirt.

the one she used to steal from you. the one she kept because it still smelled like winter and you.

a small envelope, soft at the edges.

her name on it — in your handwriting. slanted. rushed. familiar.

“nika”

she didn’t breathe as she opened it. didn’t blink. her hands were shaking as she slowly opened it.

inside: a folded scrap of paper. one sentence.

“if anything happens, i’m sorry.”

that was it.

no explanation. no date.

just that.

and suddenly the silence made sense.

suddenly, everything she’d refused to believe folded in on itself.

you weren’t missing.

you weren’t out there waiting to be found.

you’d already been lost.

and maybe— just maybe you knew.

maybe you tried to warn her.

she read the note until the ink blurred.

until her fingers went numb.

then, for the first time, she said your name like it hurt.

because this time, it did. she didn’t cry. not at first.

she just sat there, note in hand, the world suddenly smaller.

quieter.

as if even the walls understood now — there was no one left to wait for.

the hoodie slipped from her lap.

she didn’t reach for it.

the ache wasn’t loud anymore. it wasn’t wild or burning it was tired.

the kind of tired that lived in her bones, where your laugh used to echo. she looked around the room — at the photos she couldn’t take down, the messages she never deleted.

each one proof of how hard she tried. how long she fought the truth.

but it was here now. in her hands. in your words.

“if anything happens, i’m sorry.”

you knew.

and somehow, so did she.

some part of her always had.

it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t right. but it was real.

and this time, when she whispered your name, it wasn’t to bring you back. it was to let you go.

not because she wanted to.

but because holding on was killing what was left of her.

so she folded the note — carefully, like it might break — and placed it back beneath the sweatshirt.

she just stood. and walked away.

and that was the first step. not toward forgetting.

but toward surviving.

because heaven knew your name she was always praying to have you here by her side.

“heaven knows your name, i’ve been praying to have you come here by my side” - i love you too much, the book of life.

[judeaszn]

𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𐙚⋆.˚

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨ৎ: 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 , 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐘.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒)^ྀི : 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 , 𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐗 𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐘𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃,The type of loud that clung to you even after the final buzzer.

Juju’s body was still humming from the game—sweat slick on her skin, adrenaline leaving her shaky. But it wasn’t the score that had her chest tight. It wasn’t the win. It was the way Kamiyah had been talking to someone after the game—laughing too easily, her hand brushing their arm, eyes sparkling.

It shouldn’t have bothered her. Kamiyah wasn’t doing anything wrong. But the way that dude smiled at her like he had a shot?

Yeah, it was messing with Juju’s head.

Now they were in Juju’s room, Kamiyah curled up on her bed in one of Juju’s USC hoodies, scrolling through her phone like the world wasn’t tilting slightly off its axis.

Juju sat at the edge of the bed, her back to her.

Kamiyah didn’t notice the silence at first. But after a few minutes, she looked up. “You good?”

Juju didn’t answer right away. She just reached down to unlace her sneakers with more aggression than necessary.

“Juju.”

Her voice was soft—careful. That’s when Kamiyah knew something was off.

Juju exhaled hard through her nose. “You looked real comfortable out there.”

Kamiyah blinked. “Out where?”

“With that guy. Number 8 or whoever the hell.”

Kamiyah sat up slowly. “Are we seriously doing this?”

“I just think it’s funny—”

“Oh no,” Kamiyah cut her off. “Don’t hit me with the ‘I just think it’s funny’ voice. We’re not about to fight over a post-game handshake.”

“You were laughing with him,” Juju muttered.

“Because he told me I had cool shoes.”

Juju turned, frustration flickering in her eyes. “You smiled at him like he gave you the world.”

Kamiyah stared at her, disbelief clouding her face. “Are you serious right now?”

Juju didn’t say anything. Just looked away again, jaw tight, shoulders locked. That’s when Kamiyah saw it—really saw it. This wasn’t just about a guy. This was about her. The part of Juju that always carried the weight of being wanted, needed, but never fully chosen.

The part that never fully believed something this good—they—could be real.

Kamiyah stood up, walked around the bed, and crouched in front of her.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Look at me.”

Juju didn’t.

So Kamiyah reached up, cupped her face, and gently turned it until their eyes met.

“You think I’d let anyone come close to what we have?”

Juju’s throat bobbed. Her voice cracked when she finally spoke. “I just… I hate the way people look at you. Like I’m supposed to just sit there and pretend I don’t see it.”

“You don’t have to pretend. I see it too.”

That made Juju flinch slightly. Kamiyah’s hands held her still.

“But I don’t care. Because none of them are you. None of them know how I like my cereal soggy, or that I sing old Brandy songs in the shower. None of them were there when I sprained my ankle and cried like a baby in the locker room, and you sat with me and braided my hair until I stopped shaking.”

Juju blinked, and the tears she’d been swallowing back started to show in her eyes. Kamiyah kissed her cheek.

“You get jealous because you love hard. I know that. But I need you to trust me when I say that I’m not going anywhere. Not for some dude with pretty teeth, not for anybody.”

Juju let out a shaky breath. “I don’t wanna ruin this.”

“You won’t,” Kamiyah said, forehead resting against hers. “You’d have to try real hard to lose me. And even then? I’d still be sitting outside your dorm like a stalker until you let me in again.”

Juju laughed—finally—and Kamiyah smiled, pulling her in for a kiss that was slow, tender, and grounding.

When they pulled apart, Kamiyah whispered, “Come here,” and pulled her onto the bed.

Juju didn’t resist.

They lay there, legs tangled, the soft hum of the fan spinning above them. Kamiyah tucked her face into Juju’s neck and whispered, “You’re safe with me.”

And for the first time that night, Juju believed it.

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 , 𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐦!

𝐄𝐌 𝐌𝐀|𝟐𝟎𝟑𝟓

[burntthebacon]

don't worry guys i'm her big spoon all the time

[bucketsez]

Dallas I’m lowkey not mad y’all lost, but if y’all played like y’all did in the 3rd quarter. your losing streak wouldn’t be as bad as it is.

[lupinqs]

THE TONIGHT SHOW ━━ paige bueckers x actress!reader

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

☆ ━ word count: 9.5K

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

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

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

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

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

“Missed,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum, noncommittal.

But secretly, you hope so too.

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

That’s all.

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

The usual fluff.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

You shake your head. “Nah.”

You don’t elaborate.

The rest of it happens fast.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

Not that it, like, matters.

PAIGE ISN’T USED to feeling like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

Paige startles slightly. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not obsessed with her.”

Azzi lifts a brow.

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

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

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

Azzi nudges her again. “Go.”

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

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

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

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

Or, well, actually, maybe right now.

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

And you’re by his side.

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

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

And then it happens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop.” Paige shoves her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then—

“Your teammates ditch you?”

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

You.

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

Paige blinks once. “Uh…”

You stare.

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

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

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

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

And Paige—

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

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

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

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

Paige chuckles. “Could be worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You arch a brow. “Really?”

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

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

“You planning on stayin’ that long?”

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

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

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

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

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

THE DRINKS GO DOWN easily. Too easily, maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paige’s head spins a little.

How did she even get here?

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

This can’t even be real.

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

You murmur into her neck, “You good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And—fuck.

That snaps something within Paige.

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

Back to yours.

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

How in the hell?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You unlock the door. Step out first.

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

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

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

YOU TAKE THE SUBWAY.

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

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

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

“Are the subways usually this dirty?”

“Paige.”

And:

“People are staring.”

“Yeah. At you.”

“Mm. Doubt it.”

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

(Clearly, Paige is not a New Yorker.)

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

You didn’t plan this. At all.

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

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

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

And then, yeah, you understood.

She’s hot.

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

But it wasn’t just her appearance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The elevator dings.

Your floor.

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

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

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

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

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

Neither of you says anything.

You walk over to her slowly.

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

Your fingers find the hem of her flannel, gently.

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

She nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

But you’re unraveling, too. Fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit,” you breathe.

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

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

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

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

“Paige,” you mewl.

She nods, biting at your throat a little.

That’s all it takes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think your breath may stop entirely.

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

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

And she notices. Of course she does.

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

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

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

You don’t. You really, really don’t.

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

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

So, she keeps going.

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

Paige doesn’t stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so good. It’s too good.

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

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

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

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

That does it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[pbpressure]

capture | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

enjoy! x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*buzz* 1 attachment 

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

*buzz* 1 attachment 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“don’t act shocked.” you scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah?” you taunt, tilting your head.

“get over here.”

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

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

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

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

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

“this isn’t about me, baby.” 

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

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

“don’t be a brat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘s so good, so deep!” you pant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this sends her into a frenzy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

submerging you both into the warm water once again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 attachments

i need that.

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

“i mean...i got it, didn’t i?”

[foreingersgod]

this…can’t be real wtf 😭

[delusional-day-dreamer]

Sleepy Girl - p.b.

‣ paige bueckers x gf reader!

‣ wc: 2k of smut 😛

‣‣ synopsis: waking up in the morning horny and ur girlfriend is right there tbh (ending is kinda rushed and the fic is not yet edited so please bear with me)

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys... i know i completely ghosted this app for a good while but thank you for all the support even while i was MIA. this idea came to me at 11pm on vacation and i figured i should grind it out and make a return. i have a lot of drafts and ideas i came up with but no idea if i'll be able to write them all. in the meantime enjoy and happy holidays!

The warm sunlight spilling in to your bedroom and directly onto your face from the small gap in your curtains seemed to have it out against you.

It was one of the incredibly rare weekends of the season, where your girlfriend, Paige, didn’t have morning practice, lifting, or any PT sessions for residual pain after coming back home late from a basketball game (UConn won, obviously) and the two of you planned to make the most of it.

Having been in a relationship for almost a year now, the two of you had gotten to know each other pretty well over time. From working with the basketball team as a photographer to sharing a class with Paige, to running into each other literally everywhere every single day, metaphorically and physically, the universe seemed to have an intricate plan to bring the two of you together. And with such insistent force, who were the two of you to rebel?

The past ten months dating Paige had been a small roller coaster, the days spent together blissfully were obviously accompanied by the occasional argument of time management or messy rooms or even slight jealousy, but it was nothing the two of you couldn’t work through.

And of course, it was all accompanied by the mind blowing sex you couldn’t stop having. Bent over the kitchen counter, in the shower, in the living room, standing up, from the back, you name it.

But, there was one thing you and Paige had discussed exploring, but never gotten the chance to pursue, and it seemed like this morning was the perfect chance to test it out.

Depending on who woke up first, the two of you often liked to wake the other up with gentle kisses, roaming hands, and sweet nothings. But your synced ovulation cycles brought on a new possibility: morning head.

Although the concept of fucking your girlfriend while she was asleep seemed… well, odd to say the least, the two of you had discussed consent extremely thoroughly, and you weren’t going to sit (or lay in this instance) here and pretend that the sight of Paige laying in your bed right now wasn’t actively turning you on.

She had come to your off campus apartment immediately after her game at XL center and crashed pretty fast, only stopping to shower change into an old, oversized yet cropped off the shoulder sweatshirt of yours and a pair of boxers she left in your drawers.

Currently, she was conveniently splayed out on her back, her left arm stretched above her head raised the hem of your sweatshirt upwards, exposing the curve of her chest and the slightest glimpse of her pink nipples, which were already slightly peaked from the cold air radiating from your fan.

It didn’t take long for you to make up your mind, softly crawling over to rest in between her legs as you leaned over her sleeping figure, using your left hand to gently lift the fabric over her perky tits, exposing her creamy skin to you. You slowly peppered kisses on her boobs, not wanting to create too much stimulation that would wake her before you got to the more exciting part. Although, you weren’t sure you would have to worry about that. Paige could sleep through a hurricane if she was tired enough.

You nipped and sucked at her chest, making sure to pay special attention to her nipples before beginning your descent down her toned abs, bringing your hands to rub at her thighs simultaneously.

Paige groaned softly in her sleep, unconsciously spreading her legs out wider as your fingers danced over the waistband of her boxers.

Deciding that there was no reason to be a tease, especially with the growing ache in between your own legs, you hooked your fingers in her boxers and pulled them downwards, being extremely careful when taking them off her body fully and throwing them off into a corner of your room.

You shift lower, aligning your face with Paige’s already wet cunt as you grip her thighs and blow into her folds lightly, gently arousing her.

You start softly, small kisses and hickeys leading inwards before you finally allow your tongue to lick a long stripe from her entrance up to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her breath slightly hitch.

Even in her sleep, Paige’s body was actively reacting to the growing pleasure as you circled her clit with your tongue and hummed into her, sending shockwaves running through her body, legs spreading, mouth dropping open with low moans, and back arching.

And yet, she was still asleep. You had no interest in waking her up forcefully, it would defeat the whole purpose of morning head. So, you dutifully detached your lips from her clit, opting to replace it with your thumb as you run your fingers through the slick she had accumulated before inserting your middle finger into her, curling it upwards in the way you knew she loved, which seemed to do the trick.

Her eyes began to flutter open the moment you added in your ring finger, mouth dropping with a groan as her right hand reaches out to cup the side of your face.

"Good morning," you rasp out, your breath hot against her sensitive cunt as you smirk at the already fucked out expression on her face.

"Fuck baby, God I didn’t think it would be this good when we talked about-”

Her sleepy whines were cut off with another loud moan as you reattached your lips to her clit, pressing into her g-spot with your fingers while simultaneously sucking her clit, small laughs vibrating through her core as you watched her body shudder at your actions. Her hand immediately moved up to your scalp, placing a firm grip in your head as she secured your spot deep between her legs, anchoring you in place.

"Aw shit ma, fuck you're so good at that, right there just like that, such a good fucking girl for me, don't stop mama you're gonna make me cum," her breathless rambles were endless as she used her left hand to play with her already exposed nipples.

The added stimulation pushed her closer to the edge, and it wasn't long before her muscular thighs began to shake around your head, closing around the sides of your face as she began to grind her hips into your mouth, chasing every second of her orgasm as her mouth hung open with cries.

She eventually let up after you finished licking her clean, even making a show of pulling your fingers out of her and sucking her juices off of them. Her gaze darkens as she pulls you up and over her body once again, capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

She nips at your bottom lip before pulling away, feigning annoyance in her tone. "As much as I loved the little stunt you pulled just now, shit pissed me off too. Brought this up in the first place cause I wanted to surprise you."

"Actin' like it's that big of a deal P, you can just do it a different morning," you teased, hand running up and down her side.

"Mm, whatever. All I care about right now is gettin' you right ma," she mumbles against your lips, reconnecting your lips as she slips her tongue into your mouth, grabbing your ass and rolling your hips into her at the same time.

"Nuh uh, it's your day to pillow princess. Lemme spoil you a little bit. You're still tired and sore from your game yeah? Besides, I have a better idea," you insisted, rising up and straddling her waist.

You shoved your sweater off her body before Paige's large hands pulled your grey tank top up and over your head, tossing it somewhere either of you couldn't be bothered to check. Her hand pressed into your mid back, forcing you to arch over her, conveniently placing your perky tits right over her mouth.

Her teeth scraped against your stiff peaks as her other hand, which had quickly returned to its place resting on your ass, began rocking your hips back and forth over her abs, drawing out deep sighs of pleasure from the multiple sources of friction and stimulation.

"Fuck Paige," you whined out, "why you gotta make it so hard for me to take care of you sometimes," you half-heartedly reprimanded, pinching her nipple roughly as you tore yourself away from her, shimmying your basically non-existent thong off as you resettled yourself in between her legs.

"Crawl up to the headboard," you demanded, raising your eyebrow at her inquisitive expression.

"Please," you added in with a soft pout, satisfied when she complied with your request. You eagerly followed her body, stationing your hands on her shoulders as you draped your right leg over her left, maneuvering her right in order to rest over your own left before gently lowering yourself down, hissing the moment your cores met.

You rolled your hips forward tentatively, moving your left hand down to Paige's right thigh while you sank forward, circling your other arm around her neck as you moaned against her lips.

The kiss was a needy, open mouthed mess of saliva and moans as you continued to roll your hips into Paige's with the help of her guiding hands, shocks of pleasure licking your spine every time your clits aligned.

As you approached closer to your orgasm, your head tipped back, mouth hung open with desperate, borderline pornographic whines constantly spilling out, impairing your ability to kiss Paige back. Though, she would never complain and simply kept her mouth busy by sucking hickeys along your neck and chest, whispering filthy words of encouragement into your skin.

"My girl's such a slut for me, huh? Riding me so good, pussy so wet she's dripping all over me, 's basically crying for me ma. You like that?"

Her gravely voice added to the fuzzy feeling that had taken over your brain, driven only by the tight coil threatening to snap any second in your belly. From the feeling of yours and Paige's warm slickness coating your entire cunt, to the deep throbbing you clit was experiencing.

You moved your left hand from Paige's thigh up to the headboard, using it to grind down harder against Paige's center, and the pressure on your clits had moans ringing out from both of you.

"God, Paige. So close baby, fuck I'm so close," you whined near incoherently, eyes screwed shut from the way your entire body was on fire, on the edge of immense pleasure.

She moved her mouth to the sweet spot behind your ear, nipping at the skin as she her fingers deftly began tweaking your nipples. "Cum for baby, give it to me. Please need it so bad."

You cry out as a freight train of an orgasm hits you, Paige's words and hands sending you over the edge, and the sight of you coming undone, not to mention the sounds you were letting out, left Paige no choice but to follow your lead.

Your body shuddered against hers, the pleasure slowly washing over you, leaving you breathless and extremely sensitive. You untangled your legs from Paige, collapsing on the bed next to her and pulling her down with you.

You kissed her sweetly, intimately, a far cry from the sex you were just having.

"I love you so much you know that?" You muttered against Paige's lips, cracking your eyes open to see the lazy smile set on her face.

"I love you too, even though I'm pissed you stole my surprise," she whispered defiantly.

"What you don't think those two orgasms made up for it? We can go for round two if you really insist," you smirked, knowing that there was no way your body could handle another orgasm immediately.

Before she can even answer, your stomach growled loudly, inciting loud laughter from both of you.

"How about we take care of that first yeah? We can go for round two in the shower after breakfast," she responded slyly, pulling you up and out of bed with her to get dressed and have breakfast together. To you, nothing in the world could beat mornings like these with Paige.

[azzibuckets]

i wanna see you [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: lil oneshot bc i can’t stop thinking about paige singing for azzi to open the door

masterlist

“I wanna see you.” Paige’s loud, sing-songy voice penetrates through Azzi’s supposedly soundproof Bose earbuds, and Azzi resists the urge to slam her head against her desk.

“Paige, don’t piss me off right now,” she calls out, trying to focus on the words swimming around on her laptop screen.

She’s been working on her paper for what seems like hours, with Paige curled to her side for the first bit. At first, she’d tried to make it work. Brainstorming was easy enough, and she jotted down thoughts floating through her head as she’d structured her outline. But then Paige had rolled over, insisting on lying her head on Azzi’s chest, which inevitably came with the full weight of her 6’0 self pinning Azzi’s arm down. See, the thing about Paige Bueckers is that physical touch is her love language, so of course that meant that with her, there was no such thing as just a simple head on chest. Paige found every opportunity for maximum skin to skin contact, which meant her entire body was slumped over Azzi’s - a habit Azzi usually found endearing, but not when her paper was due in three hours.

With a sigh, Azzi had relented to her fate of only typing with one hand. But after five minutes of only being able to write a single painstakingly slow sentence, her right hand started to cramp and her left arm started falling asleep with pins and needles. “Paige,” she’d said gently. “Can you get up please? I really need to finish this.”

With a huff, Paige had dramatically flung herself to the other end of the bed. “My girl hates me,” she’d goaded under her breath, which Azzi had pretended not to hear for both of their sakes. Thankfully, with a couple of feet of space between them and full range of her hands, Azzi was able to finish the first draft of her introduction.

Some steady progress was finally being made until she felt a socked toe start rubbing the inner part of her calf. Looking up, she was met with hooded blue eyes and a smirk. “You look sexy right now, mami, working so hard.” The blonde has always been a little bit more down bad for Azzi whenever she wore her glasses, which the younger girl always gave her shit for but secretly loved.

On Azzi’s end, it certainly didn’t help that Paige was fresh from the shower, her hair down for once with blonde strands spilling over her shoulders. Her sweater had ridden up to show the outline of her abs, and her sweatpants were hanging on so low to her hips that Azzi could see her v-line. It had taken everything in Azzi not to throw away her laptop and kiss the other girl.

“Paige,” she reprimanded, masking her desire with irritatation. “No talking, okay? I really need to lock in.”

Pouting, Paige had shut up and resorted to scrolling mindlessly on Tiktok, thankfully with her volume down. But soon enough, she started laughing to herself, quietly. Azzi closed her eyes briefly, waiting for her to finish so she could write in peace, but Paige seemed to find each video funnier than the one before, her soft giggles turning into full on belly laughs. Azzi couldn’t take it anymore. “What could possibly be this fucking funny?”

Paige froze, eyes flicking up from her phone. “Ummm. It’s a drawing of us. Wanna see? You look hella goofy.” She eagerly turned her phone around, scooting closer to show Azzi, but Azzi pushed her hand away.

“Paige. Seriously. This is important, and I can’t focus.” She nudged her shoulder. “You gotta go.”

“Are you for real?” Paige’s mouth dropped a little. “You kicking me out of my own room?”

“Either you leave or I go back to my room and there will be no sleepover tonight.” Azzi’s voice was firm, leaving no room for an answer.

“This is fucked up,” Paige groaned, getting up from the bed to collect her things. “What am I supposed to do?”

“The exact same thing you’re doing here - but there.” Azzi pointed towards the door. “I’m sure the other girls are doing something fun. Go join them.”

“My own room. My own bed. My headphones,” Paige grumbled, choosing to ignore her girlfriend’s suggestions. “You might as well just break up with me.”

That had been a brief 20 minutes ago, and Azzi had thoroughly enjoyed the brief period of peace until she’d heard a thud, presumably of Paige slumping on the floor on the other side of the door. “Let me in,” Paige began singing. “I wanna see your face.”

Azzi grits her teeth.

“Please open the dooooor,” Paige continues. “I need you to open the door.”

Azzi turns up the volume of her music, but to no avail.

“Just one kiss,” Paige moans from outside. She hears amother thud, this time from her girlfriend’s head hitting the door. “One kiss and I’ll goooo.”

When Azzi opens the door, Paige stumbles forward into her, surprised. Azzi grabs the collar of the older girl’s shirt, pulling her in to press a firm kiss to her mouth. Paige responds eagerly, tongue swiping at her bottom lip as she tries to deepen the kiss, but Azzi gently pushes her away before it can get too far. “Satisfied?”

Paige grins dopily. Azzi plants another kiss on her lips before releasing her shirt. “Okay. Go chill out.” With a roll of her eyes, Paige finally gives up, ambling over to the couch to join KK’s live.

Two hours later, Azzi is finally done. She slams her laptop shut, her eyes bleary as she wanders out of the room. KK is on the couch, playing Fortnite. “Where’d Paige go?”

“I think she went to your room. Said she was gonna take a nap,” KK responded, not looking away from the TV.

When Azzi opens the door, Paige is slumped in her bed and cocooned in her favorite purple blanket, snores coming out of her parted lips. Azzi climbs onto the bed, hand wrapping around the older girl’s waist and face nuzzling into the nape of her shoulders. Paige stirs slowly before blinking awake. “You finished your essay?” she asks groggily, flipping around so they’re eye to eye.

Azzi nods, slinging a leg across the other girl’s hips. “Tired?”

“Mm.” Paige closes her eyes, almost falling back asleep in Azzi’s arms before realizing she’s still supposed to be mad. Eyes twitching, she crosses her arms, angling herself away from the younger girl’s body.

“You mad at me?” Azzi kisses her cheek, watching closely for her reaction. Paige’s hands stay folded across her chest, but her fingers twitch with restraint. Azzi notices and bites back a smile. “I’m sorry, honey.” She bites at her ear, capturing the soft flesh of her lobe between her teeth and tugging gently, but Paige remains stiff. “I had to focus.” She rolls over directly on top of Paige, smoothing back her blonde hair away from her face with both hands and rubbing her thumbs across her cheeks. “Let me make it up to you?”

“Lock me out of my own room again and we’re gonna have problems,” Paige threatens, trying to sound as scary as possible. She knows she’s failed when Azzi’s dimples appeared.

“Never again,” her girlfriend promises, beginning a trail of sweet, open mouthed kisses down Paige’s shoulder. This time, Paige responds, hips pressing up into her as one hand finds the back of her head, guiding her motions. “You’re a big baby, you know that?” Azzi teases, smiling fondly down at the blonde, who shakes her head indignantly. “But you’re my big baby.” She smothers Paige’s face in more kisses until the older girl can no longer fight back her smile.

“You finish your paper?” Paige asks.

“Yes. But remind me to never try and do homework with you ever again.” Azzi dips her head against Paige’s forehead.

“That’s offensive,” Paige complains. “I can lock in.”

“Don’t even try me,” Azzi argues back. “And don’t get me started on your fuck ass singing. You’re so obsessed with me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stay away from you,” Paige admits. “Not since I was sixteen.” And she’s not wrong. Paige has never been able to stay away: not when they were kids on a plane, heading home after winning a gold medal. Not when they were in upperclassmen in high school, facetiming each other after every game into the hours of the morning. Not when Paige was a freshman, sending Azzi highlight reels and talking about the day they’d win a national championship together. Not even now, when they see each other every day, but Paige still falls a little bit more in love the more she knows every little thing about Azzi.

But Azzi hasn’t ever been able to stay away, either. Admitting that, though? She can save that for another day.

[melobballin]

Omggg more juju smuttt

through her lens. juju watkins

✶ warnings ✶ 1.8k words count. black!fem reader. established relationship. +18 under dni. smut. beach sex. juju has a pic kink (whatever the fuck this means). boobs sucking. pussy eating. fingering. juju is obsessed. wlw.

hope you’ll like it baby. 🤍

YOU DON’T EVEN HEAR THE CLICK ANYMORE. That’s how used to it you were. The soft shutter sound, low and sneaky like her grin right before she ruined your whole damn day or night. Or made it, depending how she touched you after.

You never really questioned it before. The way juju held the camera like it was extension of her. The way her eyes searched for something to freeze in time—always sharp, always specific. It wasn’t just any camera, either. It was that vintage-ass polaroid, a little beat up, pink grip tape on the sides, and a Sharpie heart drawn near the flash. She carried it everywhere like it was a limb.

And somehow… it was always aimed at you.

From the first time y’all ever chilled in private, she took a picture. You didn’t even know her like that yet—barely even liked her at the time—but she aimed it at you anyway, said, “Don’t move. You look kinda pretty right now.”

The flash popped and your attitude cracked, just a little. Just enough to let her keep doing it.

Since then, you’ve collected dozens. Pinned to your mirror. Stuck to your laptop. Hidden inside your phone case. Some of them blurry. Some goofy. A few so pretty they look like they belong in a museum.

And then, some that don’t belong anywhere but under lock and key.

Because once y’all got closer—once the tension finally snapped and you let her touch you like that—she started taking pictures during those moments too. Quiet little snapshots that no one else will ever see.

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT IT THE FIRST TIME. You had her shirt bunched in your fist, mouth gripping one of her tits, while your other hand took its time dragging lazy patterns across her stomach like you were tracing something you could see. Her palm rested warm and steady against your neck, kind of grounding you even as you damn near came in your panties just from the way she breathed.

Then, outta nowhere, with her voice—low, calm and almost amused she whispered, “Don’t move, ma,”

You blinked, confused—until she reached over, grabbed the camera off the nightstand, and clicked. Just like that. A flash, a whirr, and a photo of you on top of her, breathless and glowing.

You froze, blinking hard.

“Ju… did you just take a picture of me sucking your tits?”

She didn’t even flinch. Just set the camera down and smiled.

“I did.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Ain’t no way. I know you’re fucking lying right now.” You started laughing, burying your face in your hands, heat crawling up your chest.

And then she said it.

“You looked too fucking pretty not to.”

That made you shut up.

Because when you finally looked at it… god. It was beautiful. Not just hot—intimate. Soft in a way only y’all understood. Something that felt like yours.

Now it was kinda your thing.

TODAY WAS DIFFERENT, THOUGH.

Both of y’all were at the beach. The one y’all always come to when things got loud. And lately juju’s been quieter than usual. Maybe it was the pressure. Maybe it was the press. Maybe it was just the weight of being her. You knew how heavy that could feel. So you suggested the waters. No press. No people. Just you, her, the ocean.

You had been here for a couple hours now. Your braids tied up in a loose bun. Juju’s curls were tucked under her hoodie, still a little damp from running in the waves earlier. The sun was setting now, casting everything in that perfect gold.

She was quiet, camera in hand.

You were sitting on the blanket, legs tucked under you, arms hugging your knees, the sand clinging to your thighs. She crouched a few feet away, squinted through the viewfinder, then snapped a photo.

Click.

You giggled. “You already got like twenty of me today, ju.”

“Don’t care.” Her voice was soft, almost sleepy. “You look good in this light.”

She took another one.

You pretended to be annoyed, tossing a piece of seaweed at her. “You’re obsessed.”

“I am. And you like this shit.”

you did.

The wind picked up, making you shiver a little, goosebumps chasing across your arms. She noticed. Shrugged off her hoodie and pulled it over your head, tugging the hood up around your braids. You looked up at her, all cozy and warm and wrapped in her scent.

“You okay, ma ?” you asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. I just…” Her tongue runs over her bottom lip. “I wanna remember this.”

Your breath caught.

She took another picture. Then reached for you.

IT STARTED SLOW. It always started slow with juju. Her mouth brushing against yours like she was asking for permission, not just from you but from the damn universe too. Like every time was the first, she didn’t want to take anything for granted. Her mouth barely brushed yours, soft and tentative, and you met her halfway, kissing her deeper. Sweeter. Your hands cradled her jaw, thumbs grazing her cheeks like muscle memory.

The sun was sinking now, dripping gold over her skin. The wind had quieted. The world felt still—just the hush of waves and your breathing tangled together.

Click.

You heard it again. That soft, familiar shutter.

You glanced up. “You deadass taking pics right now ?”

Juju was already grinning, half-lidded “You know I am. You look too damn good, mama. I need to remember how you look when I be fuckin’ that pussy right.”

You sucked your teeth, face burning as you turned your head, but your body didn’t move away—not even a little. You didn’t stop her. You never stopped her.

You let her guide you down onto the blanket, back hitting the soft fabric. Let her settle between your thighs like it was her favorite place on earth. Her hands slid under the hoodie slow, like she had all the time in the world, palms spreading over your chest with that reverent heat that always made you arch into her touch.

And when she kissed down your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your tits—pausing only to snap another photo—you didn’t roll your eyes at her this time. You just let her.

Because this ?

This was how juju loved you. Through her hands, her mouth, and through her camera.

“LOOK HOW PRETTY YOU ARE, BABY.” For the first time today, she had finally set her camera down for a second. No shutter, no clicks— just her eyes on you now.

You whimpered, soft and breathy, as her lips trailed lower. You felt her smirk against your stomach, warm breath kissing your skin right before she hooked her fingers in the waistband of your shorts. She pulled them down slow, almost as if she was unwrapping something fragile. Precious.

“Ju… please,” you whispered, voice already shaking.

She tilted her head, cocky-ass grin stretching across her mouth. “What do you need, mama ? Say it.”

“I want you,” you breathed. “I need you, baby.”

“I got you,” she murmured, camera now resting beside her like it could wait. Like she wanted this part just for her.

She kissed the inside of your thigh, then the other, and your hips twitched under her. Her hands never left your body—always anchored, always warm, like she was mapping you again from memory.

Like you were her favorite poem.

One she didn’t ever wanna forget the words to.

“You okay ?” she asked against your skin, her eyes flicking up to find yours. Her voice was lower now, like the sea itself—calm but heavy with intention.

You nodded fast, hand sliding down to grab hers. “Im good, ma. I’m right here.”

Her smile turned tender for a second. She kissed your knuckles sliding lower again, pressing her mouth to your pussy with a slowness that made you cry out on the first lick. Her tongue was slow, deliberate against your pussy, taking its time painting worship across your lips.

Your hands flew to her curls, fingers curling, breath stuttering out of you. “F-Fuck, Ju… don’t stop, baby, please—”

Click.

Your eyes flew open. “I know you did not just take a picture—”

But she was already smirking into you, not even looking up. “You’re so wet, baby. You don’t want proof of this ? Of how pretty you look falling apart ?”

You let out a breathless laugh, legs trembling around her shoulders. “Fuck… take another one.”

“Yeah?” Her voice dipped into something darker. “Open that pussy up for me. Show off for the camera, pretty girl.”

You gasped, your whole body tightening. The wind picked up just enough to carry your moans out to the ocean. She then worked her fingers deeper, slower, more intentional—like she wanted to make sure the moment was tattooed on your soul.

Your back arched off the blanket, thighs quivering, body damn near levitating with how good she was fucking you with her fingers. She felt so good inside of you.

“Ma, i’m cumming, fuck— uhh don’t stop.” You were right there—so fucking close, shaking and reaching and praying—

Click.

“Judea!” you cried out, one hand flying to the camera in scandal while the other dragged across the blanket. “Have you lost your mind—”

She looked up, face and fingers wet, eyes dark and full of nothing but love. “Nah,” she said, almost too soft to hear over the waves. “I’m just in love.”

SHE COULDN’T STOP LOOKING AT THOSE PHOTOS. Back in her car now, the air was still thick with you—sex, salt, and the kind of quiet that only comes after being loved on real good.

You were curled up in her lap, your arms wrapped around her like you didn’t wanna let her go. Still a little sensitive. Still warm all over. The blanket y’all had been laid out on now wrapped around both of you.

And even now, juju still reached for one of the polaroids she’d taken earlier, pulling it from the cup holder like it was a damn love letter.

There were three.

The first one was your face, eyes closed, wind dancing through your braids, the softest little smile on your lips. You looked peaceful. Untouched. Whole.

The second was filthier—your bare thighs spread, her fingers still buried in you.

And the third— the third was your face right after you came. Mouth parted. Eyes glassy. Sunlight catching the sweat on your skin like you were glowing from the inside out.

you were beautiful.

She held that one the longest. Brought it closer. Smiled like her chest was too full. Then she kissed your temple softly and whispered against your skin,

“That one’s my favorite.”

You didn’t say a word. Just held her tighter, burying your face in her neck and thinking,

Yeah. Mine too.

“…You be on some freaky-ass shit sometimes,” you mumbled, but it came out lazy. More fond than anything.

She snorted. “Girl, shut up. You love that shit.”

You smiled into her skin. Damn it. She was right.

© written by melobballin | inspo is free, but copying is lazy. keep it cute y’all

[fuddsgf]

te acuerdas de mi - ayanna patterson

advertencias: insinuaciones sexuales, menciones de alcohol y cigarrillos.

tags: @patscorner @cherryswisherz @kmoneymartini @authentic-girl03 @bueckersverse @vamptizm

la música vibraba en el suelo, los bajos haciendo eco en tu pecho mientras te abrías paso entre la multitud. siempre ibas a fiestas pero esta no era tan divertida. estabas por irte cuando la viste.

ayanna patterson.

no la conocías, pero era imposible no notarla. alta, confiada, con una sonrisa que parecía desafiar al mundo. tus miradas se cruzaron por casualidad o quizás no. un segundo después, ella ya caminaba hacia ti.

“¿quieres un trago?” preguntó, como si ya te conociera.

dijiste que sí. uno se convirtió en dos, luego en risas, miradas largas y roces intencionales. no hablaron de sus vidas, ni nombres completos. no lo necesitaban.

en algún cuarto oscuro de la casa, entre besos desesperados, el olor a alcohol y cigarro, sus cuerpos se encontraron. lo único que quedó fue el eco de tu perfume en su piel cuando te fuiste antes del amanecer.

-

dos semanas después, era el primer día de clases. caminabas por el campus, café en mano, cuando sentiste unos ojos clavados en ti.

ella.

ayanna estaba apoyada contra la pared del pasillo, hablando con alguien, pero su mirada estaba fija en ti.

no sabías que iban a la misma universidad.

pasaste junto a ella, fingiendo que no la reconocías. no por maldad, sino porque cómo le explicas a alguien que no recuerdas nada de esa noche?

pero ayanna sí lo hizo.

no por tu rostro, ni por tu voz. fue tu perfume.

ese aroma dulce, floral con un toque cálido a vainilla… ella lo había sentido antes. en su cuello. en su piel. en su cama.

y cuando te vio pasar, sus ojos se entrecerraron y sonrió apenas.

“¿te acuerdas de mí?” te dijo al día siguiente, acercándose a ti en la biblioteca.

tu cuerpo se tensó, la taza en tu mano tembló un poco. la miraste, sorprendida.

“perdon?”

“esa noche en la fiesta” susurró con una sonrisa. “te reconocí por tu perfume.”

tus mejillas se encendieron.

“pensé que no te acordarías.”

“cómo olvidarlo? si yo fui aquella que bailo contigo” susurro con una sonrisa picara.

la biblioteca estaba silenciosa, una tensión que no se veía, pero se sentía en cada mirada. el aire se volvió espeso con solo estar tan cerca.

ayanna te miraba con la misma seguridad que aquella noche. sus ojos oscuros recorrían tu rostro con calma, como si cada centímetro le recordara lo que pasó.

“¿qué quieres decir con que te acuerdas?” preguntaste, bajando la voz, como si alguien pudiera escuchar el secreto que aún tú estabas procesando.

ella se acercó un poco más, apenas lo suficiente para que su perfume se mezclara con el tuyo.

“sería interesante que fueras mi amante” susurró, con una media sonrisa ladeada. “un juego excitante” dijo mientras observaba tu rostro con atención

tus labios se entreabrieron, sorprendida. ¿lo decía en serio? o acaso estaba jugando contigo?

tu cuerpo respondió antes que tu mente. te acercaste un paso más, tus respiraciones ahora chocando como olas suaves. el recuerdo de su piel, de sus manos, de su boca, volvió a ti de golpe como un flash que nunca supiste si soñaste o viviste.

“¿y qué pasa si no me acuerdo de todo?” la retaste, con una sonrisa traviesa.

ayanna te sostuvo la mirada.

“entonces déjame ayudarte a recordar todo” susurro viendo tus labios.

silencio.

no sabías si era el peligro, la tentación o el simple hecho de que querías que lo hiciera.

ella dio un paso hacia atrás, agarrandote por la mano y saliendo de la biblioteca

-

“no se que me hiciste pero me envolviste” dijo cerrando la puerta y besándote.

[judeaszn]

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐑★

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨ৎ: 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 , 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐱

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒)^ྀི : 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 , 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 , 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐱 𝐒𝐔𝐁 𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐍 the Watkins house—it was a lifestyle.

Zaire Watkins, age five, zoomed across the hardwood floor in nothing but cartoon boxers and a cape made from one of Mama’s old USC tees.

“Zaire! You need pants!” Kamiyah Watkins shouted from the kitchen, ducking a flying sock as she juggled pouring oat milk and breaking up a screaming match over waffles. Her robe was halfway untied, hair puffed and unbothered, eyes locked on the little human hurricane that had her DNA and all of Mama’s speed.

“I am wearing pants!” he yelled back. “Invisible ones!”

Kamiyah closed her eyes and muttered, “Jesus, take the thermostat.”

Just then, Judea “Juju” Watkins—Mama, peacekeeper, the family’s six-foot-two gentle giant—walked in, sleep still clinging to her face, voice deep and soft.

“You okay, Ma?” she asked, wrapping her arms around Kamiyah’s waist from behind and kissing the shell of her ear.

“I’m on the verge of throwing myself into the dishwasher,” Kamiyah muttered.

Juju chuckled, rubbing soft circles into her wife’s hip. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle him.”

“Mmhmm. You always say that ‘til you get tackled mid-toast.”

Juju walked over to Zaire, crouched low and serious. “Zai, you know the rules, baby. Real pants before school.”

“But Mama, I’m Super Zai! You said I could save people!”

“And I meant it,” she said, smiling gently. “But superheroes eat breakfast first. With real pants. Invisible ones don’t count today.”

Zaire blinked, then sighed. “Fiiine.”

Kamiyah raised an eyebrow from the kitchen. “How do you do that?”

Juju winked. “Mama voice. Hits different.”

Tori Watkins (7) was laying diagonally across the bed claiming she had “insomnia.” Nyla (3) screamed that her blanket “looked at her wrong.” And the baby? Just vibes and crying.

Kamiyah tapped out halfway through bath time, hair soaking wet from dodging splashes, robe clinging to her knees. She stood in the doorway of their room, arms folded, breathing like she just finished suicides.

“Mama,” she called out. “Your kids are actin’ like bedtime is a damn hostage situation.”

Juju sighed, put her book down, and headed into the warzone.

She entered the girls’ room, where tension could be cut with a plastic tea set lid.

“Nyla, what happened?”

“She STOLE my bunny!”

Juju looked at Tori, whose face said, “I regret nothing.”

“Nyla, baby,” Juju said calmly, “you can use Mama’s hoodie tonight. The grey one. The soft one.”

Nyla paused. “The soft soft one?”

“The softest.”

Peace brokered.

Tori? That was a different story. She was already building her resistance.

“I’m not even tired,” she said, crossing her arms. “And I’m seven. I can stay up.”

Juju walked over and knelt beside her. “You wanna grow up strong, right?”

Tori nodded.

“Then you need rest. That’s how we grow—strong body, strong mind, strong heart. We don’t fight bedtime, baby. We earn it.”

Tori blinked. “Can I earn a cookie too?”

Juju grinned. “Nice try. Goodnight.”

The baby monitor glowed dim in the corner. Zaire’s cape hung on the doorknob. A bunny, a blanket, and three empty cups of water stood as evidence of another survived bedtime.

Kamiyah lay curled against Juju in their bed, her voice low.

“They really call you ‘Mama’ like it’s gospel,” she murmured.

“They call you ‘Ma’ like you run the whole show,” Juju whispered back.

Kamiyah chuckled. “We really got four damn kids.”

“Four Watkins,” Juju said, “and all of ‘em lucky as hell.”

Kamiyah looked up at her. “You sure?”

Juju leaned down and kissed her slow, reverent. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

And in that moment, with chaos quiet and love loud, the house that love built held steady—full of heart, full of warmth, and full of Watkins.

𝐞𝐦 𝐦𝐚|𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭!

[vicsstufff]

LOVE LANGUAGE ���

۶ৎ - summary: talk to me in your love language, show me how to connect to you. headcanons about the love language of some of the uconn wbb girls!

۶ৎ - wc: 888

۶ৎ - content/players: p. bueckers, m. cheli, k. arnold, c. ducharme, a. fudd, a. griffin and s. strong + j. watkins !

authors note | HEADCANONS! idk what to say tbh. enjoy!

P.B 5 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

this girl is touchy asf, can’t get her hands off you, don’t get me started the times you guys have been caught in live because of her.

“private but not a secret.” goes down the drain after being together for 4 months. how? the time you, paige and caroline went shopping, a fan spotted both of you in the nike shop. when they were building up courage to go and ask for a picture (while filming both of you) paige boldly kissed you unexpectedly because you got angry at her for not choosing quickly.

she doesn’t regret getting exposed in X, she can now enjoy her girl freely.

don’t allow her to get too comfortable! in dinner nights with friends, her hand will linger to far up your thigh or will suddenly squeeze your boob thinking nobody is watching. she is definitely both ass and boob girl (she can’t choose!) i can see her pressing herself against your back while you cook, shopping, brushing your teeth and doing your make up. lovesss helping you do your skincare or preparing a bath for you after a long day.

you always have a arm around your waist or shoulders.

M.C 23 — QUALITY TIME

her schedule now that she has joined uconn’s basketball team, is full but she always make space for you, binge eating to a random 2000’s love movie, or just spending time watching tv, enjoying each others presence, she loves feeling that you are there with her.

drags you to the gym (even if you don’t do anything), having you sleep in top of her, just hearing your breathing and feeling your heartbeat makes her happy.

protect her. please. girl be tripping on the smoothest walkway possible, she will say she doesn’t need you protecting her, but! will feel giddy in love when you protect her. will also show you sign language! (don’t worry about her getting frustrated when you don’t remember a sign, she has tank full of patience just for you). going back to the part of protecting her, she is also a basketball magnet, you can’t do much for her when she is practicing or in a game.

K.A 2 — GIVING GIFTS

not only does she give you candy, clothes etc. she gives you parts of herself (the team knows she is WHIPPED when they see her sharing her trufru with you) don’t you dare reject her gifts! not only will she feel bad but she’ll also force you to accept them (there’s no way out) takes caroline and azzi with her to the mall, helping her choose gifts (and also bc they won’t leave her there)

C.D 33 — ACTS OF SERVICE

we know this girl carries the team on her shoulders, the perfect mom to a group full of children only being serious when playing with a ball.

you need help on a project? there she is, finishing it within hours, you got in trouble? she speaks calmly with your teacher (her voice is so soothing, i can she her whispering songs or praises while you lay your head on her chest, caressing your hair)

A.F 35 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

her schedule is also full, but 2X more, adds, sponsorships, games, practice, college, like it’s a lot, but there’s nothing this girl can do! so, she also makes quiet moments part of her schedule, like staring at the stars after her basketball practice, analyzing games, or yapping about random things late at night.

A.G 44 — WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

her words are genuine and tender, you could just be cooking and she would start praising randomly, i can also see her commenting wild things on your instagram.

you finished you homework quickly? she is praising you for it, she loves the dress you picked for your anniversary? she is washing you with praises. you are so perfect and beautiful, she needs to let you know!

S.S 21 — QUALITY TIME

she is so giggly and awkward, i love her.

she values any time spent together, even if it’s just hanging out, talking about the past, or watching her do shots. help her with media training, she sometimes forgets where she is and doesn’t listen to what the media questioned. she genuinely questions herself rather present you to the team, not because she is embarrassed of you but because she is afraid they will scare you away.

like, they’re freshman got a lady? they NEED to meet her, no excuses! if she reuses the idea, they make a whole plan to catch her on a date with you.

J.W 12 — PHYSICAL TOUCH

i am confident in my instincts and i know this girl is touchy (off camera!) a funny scenario i can see is that while dominique is filming, she focuses on you and juju, she has your arm wrapped around your shoulders while your head is resting on her shoulder and lingering your hand on her thigh, you see she focuses the camera on you two and you immediately separate, juju is hella confused and looks at you, her eyebrows knitted together, her head snaps towards dominique who still has the camera pointed towards you and she gives dominique the fattest side eye ever (obviously she edited that part out)

she is so cuddly after practice or a game, laying her entire body on you.

[cosmopretty]

Paige Bueckers X Fem

synopsis: After a bad game Paige comes home and needs a way to get her anger out and it always helps by fucking you

warnings: smut, nsfw

Tonight was a big night for Paige she had home game, sadly you couldn't make it because you were helping one of your friends go through her breakup. Paige said she understood I mean you went to almost every one of her games she called you "Her good luck charm" because she felt like you were one of the reasons she could win. It wasn't real, it was her talent and hard work that helped UConn win, but regardless she gave you credit.

Instead of watching the game on the TV like you said you would, your friend wanted to watch The Titanic, rolling your eyes you agreed. By the time Paige comes home your friend was long gone, back to her dorm.

Laying down on the bed you flinch hearing the dorm slam shut, getting up you walk over to Paige only to see her with her hand in her hands on the counter. Confused you walk up to her slowly "Paige? Honey are you okay?" you ask her quietly not wanting to upset her further.

She pushes her self off the counter and stands to her full height, her six foot tall frame towering over you "I lost the fucking game, missed the last shot. It was all my fault" she says almost yelling at you.

"Oh Paige- you know-" Before you can finish your sentence she interrupted you "You wanna help me feel better?" she asks you walking closer to you, her hand coming down to hold your hip.

She squeezes the flesh "Of course Paige" you answer her almost immediately.

The tall girl smirks "Then go lay down on our bed naked and wait for me" she says leaning down to kiss the side of your neck before abruptly letting go of you.

Walking away from your you start to take you shirt off as you walk away, your back to her.

Once you get back into your room you strip of the the rest of your clothes. This wasn't the first time Paige came home angry just to fuck the shit out of you.

Before you can even sit down Paige storms in pushing you down on the bed and climbing on top of you. She flips you both over so she’s straddling your waist.

Immediately your body submits to her even if you didn't want to. She knew how to push your buttons and make you hers. After all you were her girl.

"You're my good luck charm and you weren't there, maybe if you were we could have won" She says her hand moving down to your core, rubbing her fingers through your folds.

Before you can even think to reply to her words she shoves two of her long veiny fingers inside of you. Without giving you time to adjust she starts pumping them in and out of you roughly.

Your legs try and squeeze shut but her hand stays between them fucking you. Staring up at Paige as you whine "Fuck P-Paige" you whimper.

The feeling of her fingers abusing your walls so roughly made your stomach tighten, you knew you weren't going to last long. Her voice snaps you out of your thoughts "Come on and cum for me baby" she encourages you her thumb coming to rub your clit.

The sensations of her attack on your clit and fingers pumping into you caused your stomach to tighten so hard you came crashing down on her fingers "FUCK PAIGE" you moan loudly your cum coating her fingers, dripping down.

She smirks sliding her fingers out of your hole before pushing them between her lips, sucking your juices off. Her eyes lock on yours as you watch her suck your cum off of her fingers "Your so hot Paige" you admit accidentally out loud.

The blonde smirks pulting her fingers out of her mouth "I know" she says getting off of the bed and stripping of her clothes. Once she's fully naked she stares at you while she starts harnessing the strap to her hips. You knew you were in for it, she wasn't stopping until she was done, it didn't matter how many times you came.

Paige climbs back on top of your rubbing the strap though your folds collecting your slick

"How bout you ride me baby? Show me you're a good girl and maybe I'll be nice" she tells you flipping you both over so you're straddling her waist. Her back leans against the headboard as her hands hold your waist squeezing the flesh "Go on baby give me a show" she commands pushing you up to hover over her strap.

You slowly push yourself down the strap before falling all the way down, your jaw falling slack as the long strap pushes through your hole into your gummy walls.

She smirks moving your hips with her big hands pushing you up and down on her strap “Such a pretty girl” she whispers her head dipping down into your neck.

Her mouth leaves warm open mouthed kisses down your neck as her strap pushes through your gummy walls. You moan your head dipping back “God P- Paige fuck-“ you whine as she starts sucking on your sweet spot.

“You gonna cum baby” She asks you kissing behind your ear as her hands help speed you up.

Your hands squeeze her shoulders as you nod feeling your stomach tighten “Yes please let me cum P” you beg her. Your hips grind down harder on her strap as it hits your G spot.

Her blue eyes bore into yours “Okay princess go on cum for me” she demands her hands squeezing the soft skin of your hips. Her hips jerk up thrust the strap deeper inside you as she helps you cum.

“F-fuck fuck” You moan pulling Paige into a kiss as you feel your stomach snap and let go, cumming all over her strap.

Paiges lips muffle your moans as she helps you ride out your high. She pulls away from the kiss and embarrassing string of saliva between you both.

You stare at her out of breath the strap still inside you “Your so pretty, all fucked out for me” Paige whispers one of her hands moving up your body to push some hair behind your ear.

“Too bad I’m gonna ruin you” She mumbles flipping you over onto your back faster than you can even think.

You stare at her confused about to say something before she interrupts you “Don’t look at me like that baby, ready for round two?” She asks smirking.

A/N: THE BITCH IS BACKK!!!!

DID YOU MISS ME? I MISSED YALL

[lupinqs]

PTPOM ━━ paige bueckers x teammate!reader

☆ ━ summary: you put that pussy on paige… based off that amari live clip, iykyk

☆ ━ word count: 4.1K

☆ ━ warnings: smutttt (paige is a MUNCH, strap, spitting, etc)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: yeah i’m ngl this was meant to be a pazzi fic but i wrote it and it just didn’t feel like them at all so i changed it to an x reader. sorry y’all, pazzi stuff coming soon!

THE BUS RIDE is electric, the aroma of your team’s win filling the vehicle. Music blares from Jana’s portable speaker, the bass rattling the floor beneath their feet. The whole team is hyped, celebrating a well-played game and a well-deserved win. You sit near the middle of the bus, in the window seat, while your teammate (and girlfriend), Paige, sits beside you, closer to the aisle.

KK is stood up a couple rows down, shouting the lyrics to the current song being played, dancing in her usual KK-Arnold-fashion. Amari’s closer to the back of the bus, entertaining a live that you’d talked to for a little while before growing bored and reclaiming your seat next to Paige.

The music shifts, and suddenly, PTPOM 2.0 is blaring through the speakers. The energy around you grows in a single millisecond, KK and Jana practically losing it, jumping up in their seats, hands in the air and grins on their faces. Paige’s face alights in excitement, and she stands in her seat, clapping, before absolutely screaming in a way that you’re sure anyone within a mile radius can hear, “AY, PUT THAT PUSSY ON ME!”

You watch, wide-eyed and laughing, as Paige and the others get louder, bouncing and singing along to the lyrics, the bus shaking with energy, feeding off the chaoticness. You share a look with Azzi, who’s also sitting and observing, that is equal parts disbelief and amusement.

“Let’s go! This the one!” Paige shouts before grinning down at you from where she stands beside you.

You shake your head a little bit, still laughing as you say, “You’re so gay.”

She doesn’t respond, just uses her hand to ruffle your hair a little bit as she sticks her tongue out. You let out another laugh, slapping her hand away and going to fix the ponytail that she’s ruined as Paige returns to her singing—if you could even call it that.

Eventually, Paige, breathless from shouting and jumping, collapses back into her seat, still grinning from ear to ear. Her chest heaves with exhilaration, and she turns to you, her eyes gleaming.

Leaning in close, your girlfriend’s lips brush along the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Can you tonight? In the hotel?”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the soft, teasing tone in Paige’s voice. You tilt your head slightly, stomach fluttering, though trying to stay nonchalant.

“Can I what?” you ask, voice light but curiosity piqued.

Paige’s smirk deepens, her breath warm against your ear as she murmurs suggestively, “Put that pussy on me?”

You pull away to look her in the eye, your own eyes widening, mouth agape. You slap Paige lightly on the arm, trying to keep your cheeks from turning red as you feel the blood begin to rush in them. You look around a little bit, hoping to God that none of your teammates hears Paige’s words. When you see none of them looking at the two of you, your gaze returns to Paige and you say, half-disbelieving (though you really shouldn’t considering she says things like this far too often), “You did not just say that.”

Paige just grins, leaning back in her seat as she stretches her arms behind her head, completely unbothered. “What?” she asks, feigning innocence, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just asking a question.”

You just shake your head, biting your lip to hide your smile and doing your best to not let your face give away how flustered you really are. “Enough.”

“Come onnn,” Paige whines a little, leaning back in closer to you, one of her hand landing on your thigh, which she squeezes a little. “Please, baby. I know you wanna.”

You shoot her a look, eyes flitting between her hand on your skin and her face. You roll your eyes, ignoring the fast-paced pitter-patter of your heart beating through your chest. “We’ll see.”

THE HOTEL ROOM door closes behind the two of you with a click. Paige tosses both of your duffel bags into the corner of the room as you, with an exaggerated groan of exhaustion, collapse face-first into one of the hotel beds. Your body sinks into the plush comforter, arms and legs sprawled out, as if the the exhaustion of the day and the game have finally caught up to you. Paige smiles a little bit at your dramatics, shaking her head.

“Long day?” she teases, kicking off her shoes as she makes her way over to the bed.

You let out a muffled sound of agreement, face still buried in the pillows. “So long,” you mumble into the fabric. “I’m exhausted.”

Paige slides onto the bed beside you, hovering over you slightly as her hand instinctively finds its way to your hip, fingers curling around the soft material of your shirt. “Yeah?” she asks, voice dropping to a lower tone. “‘S too bad…”

You turn your head slightly, just enough to glance at your girlfriend through half-lidded eyes, a small smile playing on your lips. “I might have a little energy left,” you murmur up at her, eyes trailing to the blonde’s lips.

Paige grins, leaning down until your faces are just mere centimeters apart, the playful glint in her eyes now mixing with something else that makes your stomach tumble. “Knew you’d say that,” she whispers, smirking wider as her breath fans across your skin.

And then, without any hesitation, Paige closes the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. You welcome it eagerly, body reacting immediately to the familiar press of Paige’s mouth, the weight of her presence beside you on the bed. Paige’s hand slides from your hip to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss with a kind of urgency that neither of you had quite anticipated.

You let out a soft, content sigh against Paige’s lips, your hand coming up to tangle in the blonde’s hair as you shift onto your back, pulling Paige on top of you. Paige takes the invitation eagerly, her body pressing yours into the bed as she kisses you harder, more insistently. Your lips move in perfect sync, the heat between you building rapidly as your surroundings seem to fade into the background.

Paige’s kisses soon begin to stray, her lips trailing down your jaw and then to your neck, each press of her mouth leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your breath hitches slightly as Paige finds that particularly sensitive spot just below your ear, your hands gripping your girlfriend’s back a little tighter.

“Paige,” you whisper, voice breathy and full of need.

Paige doesn’t respond with words—she doesn’t need to. Her hands slide under your shirt, pulling it over your head quickly, leaving you just in your sports bra. Her mouth returns to its spot on your neck, flicking her tongue out a little to taste the skin, while her fingers trail along your stomach, before landing at your bra, flicking at the fabric slightly. Your breath hitches once more as her hand reaches under the article of clothing, thumb brushing along your nipple slightly, before beginning to knead your breast.

Her kisses begin to trail even more, now sliding from your neck down to your collarbone, where she sucks with a ferventness that has your eyes fluttering closed, sighing at the feeling.

But before you can really relish in it, something else piques your attention. Paige is muttering—humming (?)—something against your skin between kisses, words that jumble together as your mind zooms in on the feeling of her hand on your breast, her body on top of yours, her lips on your skin. You focus more on her words, fluttering your eyes open, brows furrowing.

“Put that pussy on me,” she hums almost imperceptibly against your skin.

As you realize that she’s singing that stupid song again, you can’t help but let out a loud laugh and it bubbles through your chest. “Paige,” you say, voice full of amusement as you tug at her game-day ponytail. “Quit singing that.”

Paige pauses, pulling away just enough to look you in the eye, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Okay,” she says with a shrug, her tone far too innocent for the look in her eyes.

For a brief second, you think that maybe she actually will stop. But Paige, in true Paige fashion, has other plans. Instead of continuing the song, she takes the lyrics to heart.

Without another word, Paige’s hands move with purpose, slipping down to your waistband and tugging your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. Your breath catches in your throat, heart racing as you quickly realize your girlfriend’s plans. Before you can even think to protest (though you have no intention of doing so), Paige has hooked your legs over her shoulders, positioning herself between them with an undeniable confidence.

“P—” you start, voice already breathless, but the word dies on your lips, instead replaced by a sharp gasp, as Paige licks a slow stripe along your slit.

The sensation is instant, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. Your hands dig into Paige’s hair as you let out a shaky moan, the feel of her mouth on you the only thing you can comprehend. Her tongue moves expertly along your clit, and it makes your chest heave.

“God,” you gasp, fingers tightening in Paige’s ponytail, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensation. Your body is already trembling, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as Paige continues, her mouth and tongue working in perfect rhythm.

Paige, for her part, seems entirely focused on the task at hand, her hands gripping your thighs firmly as she works, her tongue moving with precision, hitting every sensitive spot with ease. Your gasps and soft moans only seem to spur her on, her tongue flicking faster against you, sucking more fervently.

Your world narrows to just this—just the feel of Paige’s mouth, the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your body responds with every touch. It’s overwhelming, in the best possible way, and you can feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, the tension building inside you like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“Paige,” you gasp, voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. “I—God, I’m—”

Before you can finish, the wave of pleasure crests, and your body tenses as you tumble over the edge, hand tightening in Paige’s ponytail, yanking ever so slightly, making her let out a low, breathless moan against your cunt. The vibrations make you shiver, and you’re trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

However, even though you’ve finished, it seems like Paige has no intentions of stopping. Her mouth remains locked on your clit, tongue still working, moving in those perfect, deliberate strokes that have you seeing stars.

You gasp, body tensing again as the sensation becomes too much, the overstimulation hitting you all at once. “P,” you mumble, one of your hands instinctively reaching down to push at Paige’s head, trying to ease her away. “Too much—”

But Paige, ever stubborn, pulls away just enough to whine in protest, her breath hot against your sensitive cunt as she lifts her head. “Please, baby,” your girlfriend pleads, voice low and full of pure neediness. “Just one more. Gimme one more, baby.”

Your breath seems to catch in your throat at the desperation in Paige’s voice, and even though your body is practically vibrating from overstimulation, something about the way Paige asks—no, begs—makes it impossible to say no.

Before you can even respond, Paige is already diving back in, too impatient to wait for an answer. Her mouth moves with renewed focus, her tongue working your clit in ways that make your body feel like it’s on fire. Paige’s brows furrow as she concentrates, lapping at your cunt like a dog, movements precise, each flick of her tongue making you shake.

“Fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into the skin of Paige’s neck as your grip on her hair tightens. Your legs shake slightly, thighs trembling against Paige’s shoulders, but Paige just holds you tighter, determined to coax that second orgasm out of you.

Paige looks up as at you she works, her eyes locking onto yours, and the intensity in her gaze makes your stomach flip. There’s something about the way Paige watches you, the hunger and the focus in her eyes as she keeps going, her mouth and tongue relentless. It’s almost like Paige wants to commit this moment to memory, wants to own every second of your pleasure, every gasp, every moan.

Your head falls back against the pillow, chest heaving as you bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the sounds spilling from your mouth. But it’s useless—Paige is too good, her tongue too perfect, her fingers gripping your thighs just tight enough to ground you while her mouth sends you soaring.

You watch, mouth hanging open slightly in pleasure, as Paige pulls back a little. She smirks up at you, licking your slick off her lips, before her baby blues travel down to stare at your clit. She presses a soft kiss against it before pulling back once more, just enough to spit on that spot, her saliva dripping down onto your cunt. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head as Paige looks up at you once more, while her fingers slowly rub her spit into your skin, circling your clit, teasing your entrance before bringing them back up and around. “So fuckin’ perfect,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and full of awe as she looks up at you, her eyes gleaming with possessiveness. “So pretty, baby.”

You let out a soft whimper, your body trembling at the praise, the feeling of Paige’s fingers and mouth nearly sending you over the edge again. You barely have time to catch your breath before Paige adds, her voice even softer but dripping with ownership, “My pretty baby.”

And then her mouth returns, tongue lapping and working you over like she has something to prove. Her tongue moves in so many different ways, flicking and swirling and pressing in all the right places, and you almost feel like you’re losing your mind. Every nerve in your body is on fire, your senses overloaded with the feeling of your girlfriend’s mouth, her hands, her voice—just Paige.

Your back arches off the bed, fingers tugging desperately at Paige’s hair as the pressure inside you begins to build once again, impossibly fast, impossibly intense. “P—Paige,” you gasp, voice broken and breathless as you feel herself teetering on the edge again, your body trembling with the anticipation of release.

Paige doesn’t stop. Instead, she sucks. And sucks. And sucks. Her hands are steadying your shaking thighs as she keeps her in place, humming and moaning against you because she’s enjoying this just as much as you are. There’s a look of sheer determination on Paige’s face, her brows still furrowed in concentration as she makes you come undone beneath her.

It hits you all at once, the second orgasm slamming into you with the force of a freight train. Your vision blurs, your entire body convulsing as you come, a choked gasp escaping your lips as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her. Paige keeps going, pushing you through it, her tongue moving in perfect sync with the spasms of your body.

“Fuck, Paige,” you whimper, your voice barely audible as you ride out your high, hands trembling as you hold onto the blonde for dear life. Your mind is hazy, your body completely spent, but Paige doesn’t stop until you finally still, your breathing ragged and uneven.

Finally, Paige pulls back, her lips and chin and nose glistening, her eyes full of pride as she looks up at you, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, crawling back up your body and collapsing beside you on the bed, her hand finding its way to your waist.

“See?” Paige whispers, her voice still low and a little breathless as she presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I knew you had at least one more in you.”

You raise your brows at her, still trying to catch your breath as you ask, “At least?”

Paige doesn’t answer, just grins a little as she leans in, going to kiss you, her hand moving to rest on your stomach. You kiss her back, palm lightly splayed across her cheek.

“I brought it,” Paige murmurs against your lips, surprising you. Her eyes flicker with that familiar gleam, that playful but intense fire.

Your breath hitches at the implication, your heart skipping a beat. Despite already coming twice, you feel a rush of need between your legs. “You did?” you ask with a tremor of anticipation.

“Mm-hm,” Paige hums, leaning in and spreading light kisses along your jawline, trailing them til her lips meet your ear. There, she whispers, “Will you let me fuck you with it?”

You feel your heart stutter at her words, the unmistakable want tainting her tone. You feel your body warm at the thought, and the need in your stomach turns molten. It doesn’t help that she’s sucking a spot on your neck now, one that will surely leave a mark. “Yeah,” you say breathily against her.

Paige pulls away from your neck as a grin breaks out across her features—wide, eager, and filled with anticipation. She stands up from the bed, crossing the room in a few quick strides to your bags. You watch her, heart pounding faster as she rummages through her duffle, finally pulling out the purple strap. Paige holds it up for a moment, letting it dangle in her hand, her eyes flicking back to you with a teasing smile before she begins to strip off her own clothes, tossing them aside with casual ease.

Paige stands there for a beat, completely bare, her toned body all lean muscle and curves, looking every bit the athlete she is. She takes her time putting the strap on, adjusting it around her hips, the purple of the toy standing out against her skin. Once she’s satisfied, she gives you this look—one that makes your breath catch again—before crawling back onto the bed.

Your body is practically buzzing with anticipation as Paige leans down and kisses you again, slowly this time, her lips soft but deliberate as they move against your own. There’s something almost tender about the way Paige kisses you, even though you can feel the heat simmering just beneath the surface.

“Ready?” Paige whispers against her lips, her hand brushing a path along your neck and up to your cheek, which she cups softly.

You nod, your heart racing, your body already aching for more. “Yeah,” you murmur, the words barely audible.

Paige smiles and, with careful deliberation, lines herself up, the tip of the strap pressing against your entrance. She’s slow at first, easing it in just enough for you to get used to the stretch. You feel your back arch off the bed a little as the toy begins to fill you, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. It’s big—Paige chose one that was just the right size to make you feel full, to give you that perfect stretch.

“Fuck,” you mutter, fingers curling into the bedsheets as Paige pushes in deeper, slow and steady, letting you adjust to the sensation. She watches you the entire time, her eyes flickering with something dark and intense, like she’s savoring every second of this.

“Feel good?” Paige asks, her voice low and almost too calm, given how worked up you are.

You can’t speak, can’t find the words, so you just nod, your breath coming out in short, shaky puffs as Paige finally pushes all the way in, filling you to the hilt. The fullness is almost too much, but it’s also perfect—the kind of pressure that has you teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain in the most intoxicating way.

Paige leans down again, her lips ghosting over yours as she begins to move, slow and careful thrusts that make your toes curl. “God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Paige mumbles, her voice dripping with praise as she picks up the pace, her hips moving just a little faster. “So tight around me, baby. You feel that?”

You let out a moan in response, your body rocking in time with each of your girlfriend’s thrusts. Paige’s words always get to you, always add to the heat building inside you, and right now, Paige is talking like she wants you to lose your mind.

“You take me so well,” Paige continues, and it comes out low and raspy as she thrusts a little harder, her hands gripping your hips for leverage. “Fuckin’ perfect. My perfect girl.”

Your breathing is beyond ragged now, and you’re trembling beneath Paige as the pressure builds higher and higher. Every thrust hits just right, pushing deeper inside you, filling you in ways that made her head spin. You swear you can feel the strap in your stomach at this point. “Paige—” you gasp, voice breaking as your hands grip Paige’s shoulders, pulling her closer.

The blonde doesn’t slow. If anything, she speeds up, her hips slamming into yours with a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars. “Fuck, you hear that?” Paige rasps out, a little breathlessly as she continues fucking you. She pauses her words for a moment, doesn’t say anything, letting the sound of your skin slapping against each other, the sound of Paige’s strap sliding in and out of your cunt, fill the room. “Listen to how wet you are. Shit, baby, that pussy’s so fuckin’ good.”

Your heart rate picks up, her words hitting you like a jolt of electricity. The wet sounds, the lewd praise—it’s all too much, too perfect. “Paige,” you whimper her name again, your nails digging into her skin as you shake with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Paige murmurs, her breath hot against your neck as she leans in, her movements becoming more deliberate, more purposeful. “My pretty girl. All mine. So fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. Look at you.”

Paige reaches down between you, her fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that send sparks shooting through your entire body. “Fuck!” you practically shout, hour body jolting at the added sensation. “Shit, P.”

Your whine has Paige’s movements becoming even more calculated, each thrust perfectly timed with the pressure she puts on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You’re moaning against her neck, almost sobbing into her skin, as she continues pounding into you relentlessly. In and out, in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over and over again.

“Come for me, baby,” Paige commands, pinching your clit and biting at the skin of your neck. “Come on. I wanna feel you come on my cock.”

The words send you spiraling, your body tensing as the pleasure hits you like a tidal wave. Your orgasm rips through you, and you practically convulse beneath Paige as your vision blurs, your moans loud and unabashed as you come, hard, trembling from head to toe with the intensity of it.

Paige keeps moving, riding it out for you, her hips slowing but still thrusting deep, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. “That’s it, baby,” she says lowly. She’s full of awe as she watches you fall apart beneath her. “Fuck, you’re so good. Always so fuckin’ perfect.”

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as the pleasure slowly subsides, your body limp and spent beneath Paige. You can still feel the strap inside you, the fullness of it grounding you as you tried to catch your breath.

Paige leans down, pressing a series of soft kisses along your forehead, her fingers still tracing light patterns on your skin. “You okay?” she asks softly, now full of gentleness and care and even concern.

You nod, still too breathless to speak, but the content smile on your face says it all. Paige kisses you again, slow and sweet, her hand resting on your cheek as she slowly pulls the strap out, easing you down from your high.

“Guess you could say you put that pussy on me,” she tells you jokingly, smiling against your lips.

You let out a tired laugh, slapping her ass lightly as you say, “Enough.”