Can A Nigga Borrow A French Fry😒

Dare I say 5'8 +up and I might be sold (PLS)

100 5’6+ lesbians vs. 1 me let’s go

Quick question Bre, why Kazzy pull up on my Instagram?

Tell her to send that message🫶🏾

So again, you know nothing and need to go burn in hell.

All you've done is like for the past few hrs...you're not slick girly and I don't give a singular fuck😋

this is my first ever fic 🥹 so um yeah

plug!eren x nerdy!chubby!reader

word count- 1686

summary- you’re a stressed college kid that just needs to relax

MINORS DNI please‼️‼️

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✓ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 °*

𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚟 𝚔𝚙𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚜, 𝚔-𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚂𝚆𝙵𝟸 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜.

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙵𝚄𝙻 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚖. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞! <𝟹

𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝙳𝙾 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗!

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝙰𝙽𝙵𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽.

♡ 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐋𝐞𝐞

° 𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂

◌ 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙺𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙹𝚊𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗. 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝙱𝚎𝚋𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑳𝑬, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝒙 𝑲𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑵 𝑫𝑶𝑫𝑮𝑬𝑵

◌ 𝐓𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜. (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖)

"𝚈𝚎𝚜, 𝙸 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎."

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑮!𝑷 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐓𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 ° 𝟐. (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖)

" 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌."

" 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌."

~ 𝙺𝚎𝚑𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚒 - 𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌

𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻, 𝑮!𝑷 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

° 𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂

◌ .......𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞? (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖).

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑺𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯!𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑺𝑼𝑩!𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝒙 𝑺𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐒𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖).

𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝.....𝙷𝙴𝚁.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑷𝑳𝑼𝑺 𝑺𝑰𝒁𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖).

𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑶𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑵𝑨𝑰𝑽𝑬, 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑫𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝒙 𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳!𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨

◌ 𝐀𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫.

𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊'𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚡.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑺𝑼𝑩!𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑫𝑶𝑴!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞. (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖)

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎.

𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻, 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑷 𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹!𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐈𝐭.

𝙷𝚘𝚠𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝒙 𝑯𝑶𝑾𝑳

◌ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞. (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖)

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊.

𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻, 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑷𝑳𝑼𝑺 𝑺𝑰𝒁𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤... 𝐈 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑮!𝑷 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞.

𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑮!𝑷 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐲.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑩𝑼𝑳𝑳𝒀 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐦. (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍!)

"𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚖." "𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍." "𝚄𝚙 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝." "𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚖." ~ 𝙳𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚗 - 𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻, 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑱𝑬𝑨𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞.

"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎."

"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗."

"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎."

"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐."

"𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎."

~ 𝙹𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚒𝚔𝚘 - 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 (𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎)

𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻, 𝑮!𝑷 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖) (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍!)

"𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝."

"𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐."

"𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍."

~ 𝙺𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚍𝚎 - 𝚄𝚛 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑷𝑳𝑼𝑺 𝑺𝑰𝒁𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭. (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍!)

"𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐."

"𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗."

"𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎?"

~ 𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙰𝙷𝙽 - 𝙻𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞. (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍!)

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚞n𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕. 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗.

° 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽𝚂

◌ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲.

𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝?

𝙱𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭, 𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝑳𝑬𝑬 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

♡ 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

° 𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂

◌ .......𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞? (𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐖)

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾, 𝑺𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯!𝑩𝑨𝑫𝑨 𝒙 𝑺𝑼𝑩!𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝒙 𝑺𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑪𝑯!𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

◌ 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬.

" 𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜."

"𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛."

"𝚃𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍, 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕."

~ 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎𝚢 - 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻, 𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝒙 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

♡ 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐡

° 𝙸𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬. (𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍!)

This awoken something in me, might be more gay than I thought

BIGGER IN TEXAS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: filth (and some plot, as a treat)!! language, light alcohol/body shots, oral, fingering, strap, fuck ass cowboy hats, freak shit im talm bout inittttt, slight overstim, mirror, light choking (author is unoriginal we know this), reader is honestly thirsty as hell but so is paige, idk how to tag smut properly just know im losing my spot in heaven for this fic

wc: 10.5k

synopsis: A Dallas Wings rookie and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader walk into a club together. What could possibly go wrong?

notes: i wasn't ovulating when i drafted this but i am now! maybe tmi. sinners changed my life and my main takeaway from that movie is everyone is a munch and thats a life philosophy i think everyone should have. make sure you all say "thank you kali uchis" because i actually got insane writers block after waking up this morning but her album saved me. not much to say but im actually going to hell for this so please make it worth it and hit up my inbox pls and ty 🫶 as always i hope yall enjoy!

Let the record show that you weren’t serious.

Okay. You were like, 50% serious. As in if you were presented with the opportunity, you would take it, but if any of your friends were to ask about it, you would probably deflect.

You realize now that you tend to get a little overzealous on Twitter – it’s far more unhinged than your Instagram is, where you share pictures of your everyday life and action shots as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You have less followers on the bird app (it is not X), you’re a little more…real, and as a bonus, your mom doesn’t follow you, so you feel like you can be a little more insane on there.

Although you’d probably apologize to her later – because one of your recent tweets is going a little crazy.

It didn’t start as anything crazy. Being a Dallas athlete, you kept up with nearly every sports team – the Mavericks, the Stars, the Cowboys, obviously, but you loved the Wings, too. You watched the WNBA draft as did countless others in the country.

When the Wings admin posted the Welcome to Dallas, Paige Bueckers! tweet, you’d giggled to yourself, mostly because you were nursing a Chili’s margarita and because she looked insanely good in the graphic.

You retweeted it, typing, welcoming you into dallas w open arms @.paigebueckers1 🤠

Then, almost like an afterthought, you commented on your own retweet, typing, and with open legs 🙏

You didn’t think much of it. Obviously. You didn’t have a huge following and if anyone asked, you’d just be kidding. The next ten minutes are peaceful as you finish off your margarita and scroll aimlessly through TikTok, keeping one ear out for the next draft pick. And then your phone starts blowing up.

A bunch of likes. A few people retweeting your second comment with various laughing or crying emojis. But what makes you pause is the notification reading Paige Bueckers has liked your tweet!

Oh. You click just to make sure, and – yeah. Definitely the one about having open legs.

Any other day, this would probably be mortifying, but today you’re a little emboldened by the margarita in your veins and you can’t help but think this is a little funny. You’ll probably regret it later when everyone remembers that you’re kind of a public figure and decides to flame you for being a little unhinged on main. For now, though, it’s not that big of a deal.

When you wake up in the morning to an unread DM from Paige – who’d followed you back, mind you – on your Instagram, you suddenly realize that it actually is a big deal.

Paige 💕: I’m flying into Dallas on the 23rd for media Paige 💕: If the offer still stands maybe you could show me around the city?

You stare blankly at your phone. Then you blink once. Twice. You power off your phone, press your pillow to your face, and you scream.

You weren’t serious, but you think you’re being presented with the opportunity – and, well, who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

After you finally come back to your senses, you reach for your phone again, navigating back to your DMs with Paige. You only have to contemplate for a few seconds before your fingers are flying across the keyboard.

You: i’ve been known to be a thorough tour guide You: let me know what your schedule looks like and i’ll show you the pretty parts of dallas

Her response comes quicker than you were expecting.

Paige 💕: Looking forward to it 🫶 Paige 💕: Not sure how Dallas compares to you but I can be open minded

Admittedly, you have to reread her message twice to fully grasp the cheesy pick-up line, but you hate the way it makes your cheeks flush. You’re not sure how to respond to that.

You settle for screaming into your pillow again.

The week passes by quickly. You and Paige talk — a lot — truly enjoying getting to know each other during your rare moments of free time. Paige is busy with flights and appearances while your schedule is packed with practice and learning the audition choreography for the next season of DCC. 

Despite yourself, you can’t help but think how nice it is. There’s no expectations. You’re both athletes with a combined two hours of free time. For now, you’re just content to see where this goes. You enjoy her company, and honestly, you’re really into her. Paige flirts relentlessly, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of respect and admiration that makes you feel like that feeling is mutual, too. 

She texts you a picture of the Dallas tarmac when she lands on the 23rd, a coy reminder that you did promise to show her around. Paige has media for a good portion of the day, though, so you know you won’t be seeing her for a while. You tune in for a little bit of her rookie press conference, and no, you weren’t cheesing while listening to her speak. But if you were, that wouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own.

You don’t hear from her for the next few hours, which doesn’t bother you. You do get a call from one of your squadmates, Lielle, asking if you’d be down to hit the club before the DCC season starts – and who were you to say no to that?

You settle for a light, natural makeup look, throwing on a blue, mesh, halter corset top that sparkles in the light and a pair of cropped, white denim shorts. They’re long enough to cover what they need to, but it’s the perfect club outfit – something with the right amount of tease and will make you feel confident enough to truly let loose.

Lielle picks you up along with a few other of your friends who tease you relentlessly for your actions on Twitters – it’s no use defending yourself, although they’re nearly howling in excitement when you point out that Paige is in your DMs, so you’re probably doing something right.

You and your girls enter the club with high spirits, the atmosphere already electric, and two of your squadmates break away to find a table while you and Lielle make your way to the bar to order shots and drinks for everyone. Lielle leans over the bar, already laying it on thick for the bartender, who grins politely like he’s seen just about every variation of whatever game Lielle is playing.

On the bright side, he does end up discounting your drinks on account of being a DCC fan, which makes you think Lielle never truly had a chance, anyways – but a cheaper drink is a cheaper drink, especially in Dallas. Lielle walks away with a wink and the drinks in her hands as you remain to order something for yourself. The bartender has just slid the drink your way when you feel the heat of someone’s body next to yours. At first, you’re alarmed, but you soften when you hear their voice, followed by finally looking at their face.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” In person, Paige Bueckers is so much taller than you’d anticipated, which is probably a really stupid thing to say for a professional basketball player. She’s tall, her cologne a heady scent of warm vanilla and something distinctly floral, and she rests her arm against the bar in a way that’s devastatingly casual and dangerously alluring. Paige is wearing a black and white striped Nike sweater, the very same she’d done media in, a look not befitting of the club but you can’t help but think about how perfectly her it is.

You crack a coy smile, taking a quick sip of your drink for some liquid courage, because Paige is staring at you like she knows exactly what she wants from you and your heart thrums because if she said the word, you’d be willing to give it to her. “What, is this place too scandalous for a cheerleader like me?” you joke, and the heat of her gaze travels down your body in one quick motion.

“Nah, nothing like that,” she assures you. “Just didn’t think that out of every club in this city, I’d be lucky enough to run into you my first night out.”

“Seems we’re both feeling a little lucky tonight, huh?” you say, and she laughs gently under her breath. Paige holds out a hand to you. In lieu of a shake, you settle for hugging her instead, which she relaxes into immediately, her hands resting respectfully at the small of your back. “It’s great to finally meet you in person,” you say genuinely, pulling away at the right moment. “You enjoying Dallas so far?”

Paige shrugs a little, a smile on her face and gratitude on her tongue when the bartender slides a drink her way, too. “Haven’t got the chance to see much,” she says honestly. “Was in media all day, then I stopped by Costco so my apartment looked a little less pathetic. Now I’m here. Something about rookie initiation, according to Rike, but I think she just wanted someone to buy her drinks.”

You laugh. “Look at you already taking care of people,” you comment, your grin widening at her playful expression. “You’re here with your team, then? Where are y’all sitting?”

Paige purses her lips, her eyes squinting as she peers through the dim lighting of the club. “I think over there?” she says, pointing at the VIP section towards the back. She’s closer to you now, her chin resting just above your head, and you follow her gaze. You can’t help your smile, something she picks up on immediately. “What’s funny?”

“I think your team’s already hitting it off with mine,” you say, easily spotting Lielle handing a shot to Arike and clapping when she downs it in one go. You don’t think Lielle is drunk yet, but she has a natural excitement and zest for life that makes her the easiest person in the world to befriend.

Paige huffs a little under her breath, amusement lacing the sound, and her hand finds your waist. “Must be meant to be,” she says to you. Despite yourself, you preen, your smile widening when her hand finds your skin. “After you.”

Paige walks almost protectively behind you, the crowd of club-goers parting instinctively for the both of you. When you make it back to the VIP section, both of your teams cheer – like they know something you don’t – which causes a blush to rise on your cheeks and a nearly smug expression to take over Paige’s.

Introductions are swift, if a little unnecessary. You’d run into many of the Wings players before, having made a genuine effort your first year as a professional cheerleader to show up to many of the Dallas sports games.

Before you know it, Arike has ordered more shots for the table, and Paige slides into the booth next to you with a dangerous glint in her eye and two shots of tequila in her hands. The table is lively, raucous, with Kelsey – one of your squadmates – going shot for shot with Aziaha James and Lielle and Arike instigating.

But here, now, in this little corner you and Paige have tucked yourselves into, you’re enjoying the intimacy of the moment far too much, feeling as though you’ve been afforded far more privacy than you actually have.

Paige presses one of the shots into your hands, a loose smile on her face. “To Dallas?” she asks you, raising her glass.

You tap yours against hers, a matching smile of your own as you agree, “To Dallas.” You down your shots in one go, the liquid warming your belly pleasantly. “And to Twitter,” you add a little jokingly, but your blush deepens when Paige smirks, raising a thumb to your lip to wipe away the excess tequila beading on your mouth.

She sucks her finger into her mouth, humming a little insufferably, and you’re burning for an entirely different reason now. Your gaze hones in on her hand, flicking between her lips and her eyes. And, sure, she was constantly flirting with you over text. You knew she was feeling you as much as you were feeling her – but to watch her behave so confidently in front of you, to unravel you like it was nothing… The confirmation makes you ache. It reminds you that you’re not the only one feeling the warm buzz between the two of you.

“You always that forward?” Paige asks you, referring to your tweet. “Or am I just lucky?” Her words are punctuated with a heated grin, one that makes you shift in your seat. You hope that she didn’t notice, but you see the way her eyes darken and how she leans in a little closer to you.

“Only when I’m tipsy, apparently,” you mutter. You glance up, taking in her expression, the curiosity and desire in her eyes. Your lips quirk into an amused smile. “But I don’t think I have to tell you about the effect you have on people.”

“Good thing I don’t really care about other people,” she says, her gaze dropping down again. You can’t tell if she’s looking at your lips or your chest, but it makes warmth bloom under your skin, anyways. Paige makes eye contact as easily as she drinks you in. It’s disorienting, unwavering. It’s almost like you can see exactly what she’s thinking by the way her pupils dilate. Her fingers brush against the inside of your wrist, setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire. “But you? Didn’t know I was affecting you like that.”

“Oh, you’re not,” you laugh, which just makes her laugh, too, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. Dangerous because you know you’ve already given in. Any other attempt at saving face or trying to look a little less down bad is just meant to make you feel a little bit better – like she hadn’t already won you hook, line, and sinker the moment you promised to show her around Dallas. 

“Lying is a sin,” Paige murmurs.

“Lust, too,” you retort.

Paige’s subsequent grin is a little too wicked. “Touche,” she agrees, and you can’t help but lean into her touch when her hand splays over the expanse of your toned waist, her thumb brushing your skin like she’s trying to memorize every shift in your muscles. Her voice drops a few decibels, only loud enough for you to hear as she presses in closer to you. Your hair raises when her lips ghost across your temple, the shell of your ear. “You’re already burning for me, though. Probably soaked through these fucking shorts, aren’t you? So why pretend you ain’t?”

“Paige,” you whisper, your heart beating a little faster, pounding against your ribcage. Your hand finds hers, linking your fingers together, and you don’t stop her when she maps out every inch of skin not hidden by your top. If anything, you arch into it slightly, enjoying the heat of her palm against your belly. She grins like she knows, like she’s already called the Uber and is thinking about how she can ruin you in the car without alerting the driver.

“Jus’ say it, mama,” she murmurs, her breath hitting your ear. You should feel some type of way for how easily your body betrays your brain, pressing further into her without your permission. “Tell me what you want and we don’t gotta play these games in front of your girls.”

Your mouth opens, the words getting caught in your throat when Paige finally grips the meat of your thigh with her hand, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to claim.

But before you can give into the feeling of it all, the bubble of peace between the two of you is broken by Lielle exclaiming, “Who wants to do body shots?!”

Breathless, you glance up at Paige, who stares back at you with mischief. She squeezes your thigh gently, whispering, “Be good,” before tugging you to your feet and towards Lielle, who holds the salt, lime, and the bottle of tequila. You sigh a little, already feeling like you could combust.

Your combined teams cheer when Paige volunteers you. Her smile, which is borderline smug and nearly possessive, makes your skin burn, but her eyes betray the ease in her features. She scans her teammates like she’s waiting for one of them to think that they could take her place.

Kelsey clears space on the table while Lielle uncaps the bottle of alcohol. One of the other Dallas rookies – JJ, you think her name is, extends a hand to help you onto the table, but all it takes is one glaring look from Paige to make her raise her hands in surrender. Paige steps up, her gaze dark, and she grips your hips, raising you onto the table with a weightless ease. Her eyes never leave yours, watching you with rapt attention as you lean back, getting comfortable.

“You good?” she asks, her hand resting over your stomach, which rises and falls steadily under the heat of the moment. You nod quickly, needing her hands on her body more than you think you need air, and she allows herself a quiet smile as she reaches for a lime wedge. Gingerly, she holds it out to you. Your teeth part at her wordless command, clamping down on the lime, trying not to wince at the taste. Her fingers linger on your lips, pupils blown wide, and it makes warmth coil low in your belly when you realize just how reciprocated this feeling is.

She reaches for the salt next, uncapping it, too, and meets your eyes with one last unspoken question. You don’t hesitate before you nod, uncaring of where she lines up the salt. You are surprised when she leans down, licking a stripe between the valley of your breasts, wetting the skin there so the salt can stick. You hardly register the wolf whistles around you, far too focused on the satisfied, focused grin on Paige’s face as she sprinkles the salt on your skin.

Finally, Lielle hands over the bottle of tequila, and you try to steady your breathing as Paige pours a generous amount in your navel. A drop slips, trailing down and soaking into the fabric of your shorts. You swear you can hear Paige’s breath hitch, but the club is too loud for you to be certain.

Lielle is probably recording. There’s no way she isn’t – she’s the life of the party, and whenever you wake up tomorrow, you’re sure you’ll find the video of Paige doing a body shot off of you on her close friends. But right now, when Paige is staring at you like you’re the only person in the room, like she can’t wait to get you alone and ruin you? You can’t think about anything but the blonde athlete and how willing you are to let her unravel you.

With one last glance to check in on you, Paige leans over you, caging you in with her arms. Her head dips down, licking the salt off of your chest with a devastating slowness. You catch the edge of her grin as she trails her lips down your torso, settling at your belly and drinking the tequila directly off your stomach.

Her tongue probes for the last drop and she presses a farewell kiss to your skin that makes your breathing stutter. Then, finally, she makes her way back up to your lips, her skin a little flushed, and she parts her lips to take the lime wedge in between her teeth.

But Paige isn’t through with you. You watch with wide eyes as she punctures the flesh with her teeth. She takes the lime wedge in between her fingers and with her free hand, she cups your jaw, her thumb brushing against your lip. You adhere to the silent demand, your lips parting again, and she presses down on the bottom row of your teeth with her thumb, keeping you open as she squeezes the juice of the lime into your mouth.

You shudder, eyes slipping shut in a non-physical pleasure – Paige hasn’t even touched you yet, but you feel like you’re ready to fall apart. The lime juice makes your face contort from the sourness, but you hardly think about it when your eyes blink open once more to take in Paige’s lazy expression. She’s already gone – her smile wide, reverent, satisfied, proud, and she discards the lime peel.

Paige removes her finger from your mouth, closing your jaw for you, her features softening with pride as you swallow the juice dutifully. You barely hear her whisper, “Good,” before she helps you off of the table, steadying you when you sway a little unsteadily, and the both of you make every effort to ignore your friends.

They don’t focus on the two of you for too long – JJ is helping Kelsey onto the table to keep going, so you take advantage of their distraction and pull Paige down to your level by her collar. She grins insufferably, like she knows she’s teased you to the point of no return. Her smile widens when you demand, “Take me home. Or we’ll cause a scandal in the middle of this club.”

Her lips brush against yours. “Uber’s already here,” she informs you, her expression far too satisfied. If you were any less pussy drunk, you’d probably hate yourself for being too easy, but all you can think about is how her skin would feel against yours.

You let her pull you through the club. You let her hands linger on your hips when she helps you into the Uber. And without so much as a noise, you part your legs for her in the car, letting her fingers trace the inside of your thighs discreetly. Paige doesn’t give you what you need – you knew she wouldn’t.

You keep your reactions tempered, even when she leans in closer to you, her nose brushing against your ear as she whispers filth that the driver is none the wiser to. And when you make it to her apartment complex, you hardly hear the driver’s farewell before she guides you out of the car, through the apartment lobby, and into the elevator.

Paige’s grip on your hips is tight, like you’re not sure if she’s trying to keep you close or trying to restrain herself from defiling you in the elevator. Either way, you don’t mind. You press your hips to her front, grinning in satisfaction when her fingers tighten and her breath hitches, a groan building in her throat. The ding of the elevator breaks you both from your stupor and you follow her to her door, watching in amusement as she fumbles with the key in her haste.

“Do you remember my tweet?” you ask a little offhandedly, sliding your fingers under the hem of her sweatshirt. She curses under her breath when your fingers find her waist, splaying across her abdomen – it’s more for your pleasure than it is hers, feeling her muscles jump under your hold. Her eyes are a little wide and blown out when they meet yours.

“S’all I’ve thought about for weeks,” she confesses, finally getting the lock to turn. Her words give you pause as she throws open the door. Catching you by surprise, she picks you up, one arm looping under your ass, and your arms slide around her neck for stability as she shuts the door behind her, making sure to turn the lock back.

It’s all speed from there. Paige kicks her shoes off in the entryway, her hands gripping the back of your thighs as she blindly walks the both of you through the hallway towards the bedroom. You silently thank her coordination as an athlete, more so when she starts mouthing at your chest like it’s been the only thing keeping her going. Her tongue darts out, wet against your skin, and she hums against your breast as she tastes the residual salt from the shot and the sweat. Paige nips at your skin and holding onto her tighter with a wordless sigh is all you can do to keep it together.

Finally, she finds the bedroom door, throwing it open without a care in the world. Paige deposits you safely on bed and then almost falls over herself following – the dichotomy makes you ache, the way she’s so desperate to get her hands and mouth on you, but the evident care she makes sure to treat you with despite her need. You want her to turn you out in every single way she’s thought about since draft night, but the respect is touching.

The first press of her lips against yours makes you keen, arching into her exploring hands while yours cups her cheeks. You’ve thought about this for weeks, too, how it would feel to have her on top of you like this. She tastes like a tequila shot and something distinctly fruity from the cocktail she was sipping on. Combined with the lime juice on your breath, your kiss is intoxicating for several different reasons, and the heat coiling in your belly reminds you of how badly you want this.

She tugs your bottom lip between her teeth, pulling it back and letting it snap back before her lips find every inch of your skin. The hinge of your jaw, the tender spot on your neck that makes you thread your fingers through her hair to pull the tie loose, the dip in your throat where your moan vibrates against her lips. Paige is ravenous. Like there’s a million different things she wants to do to you before the sun comes up. You’d let her.

“Thought about this forever,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse and wrecked. Your breath stutters, back arching to help her untie your halter top and letting her pull it off you. She goes almost painfully silent when she takes in your breasts fully, your pebbled nipples. “Fuck.” Her curse sounds like a filthy prayer, one that you’d give up almost everything to respond to. One of her large hands splay over your breast while her mouth finds the other one, alternating between kneading and sucking and here – you’re sure you could fall apart completely, your hips jumping up for contact.

“You don’t know what that stupid comment did to me,” she continues, almost to herself, but she knows you’re listening. She feeds off of the way your breath hitches as she pulls back long enough to rip her sweatshirt and sports bra off in two quick motions, the chains around her neck tangling briefly before they trail cold caresses across your stomach when she leans back down to take your skin in her mouth. Your jaw falls open in pleasure, gripping onto her, the sheets, anything to stay rooted.

“Looked at your page, and those–” Her fingers find the waistband of your shorts, popping the button and pulling the denim off while she rambles. She falters when she takes in the white lace covering your body, a low, wrecked groan spilling from her lips at the sight of the wet patch at the apex of your thighs. Paige brushes her fingers against you, relishing in the way your hips jump and your whispered plea.

“Those stunts you do,” she continues finally. “That fucking uniform is sinful, you know that? Got myself off thinking about you, how good you’d be. You offered yourself up and all I could think about at the presser was how many different ways I could get you to come for me. I wonder if I could do it without my hands.”

You’re not coherent enough to tell her she could probably do it with words alone, but you reach for her and pull her back to your lips, kissing her hungrily, like you’re on death row and she’s your only chance of salvation.

Your hands explore while her kiss disorients you. Finding the waistband of her pants, you reach for the belt, undoing it. Paige helps you pull her pants off, leaving her in a dark pair of boxers. Her skin is impossibly warm against your palms as you press your fingers into the small of her back, undoubtedly leaving marks.

She pulls back to trail her lips down your body, sucking marks everywhere, her hands holding you like she’s afraid you’d float away if she didn’t keep you rooted.

Paige doesn’t make any effort to strip you out of your damp underwear – if anything, she stares at it like she’s more proud of it than getting drafted first overall, and she presses her lips to the skin just above your waistband until it blooms red and purple. She soothes it with a kiss, her expression far too smug and satisfied.

“You’re soaked,” Paige murmurs, pressing her thumb to your cunt again, her grin widening when you moan, your hands shooting down to grip her hair. She makes eye contact with you and sucks her thumb into her mouth, eyes slipping shut as she tastes you. You can’t help the curse that tumbles from your lips. “That ‘open legs’ offer must have been a cry for help, huh?” she teases, but her voice is rough, like the very taste of you is a drug and she’s addicted. “Nobody else doin’ it for you?”

“No,” you admit, cheeks burning under the weight of your confession. The truth is you’d stopped looking after a while, but now, with Paige tucked between your legs and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen, you briefly consider the fact that she’s going to ruin you for anyone else. For yourself.

She grins again. “Shame,” she murmurs, her lips trailing down to the inside of your thighs, where she presses gentle kisses. “Someone got to you before me and they couldn’t even make it worthwhile.”

She nips at your skin, the pain blooming into pleasure instantly. Your breathing comes to you a little faster the closer she moves to your aching cunt, but she soothes you with a hand to your belly. “I got you, mama. Gonna be the best you’ve ever had. Swear.”

You don’t doubt it, your head already swimming, and she presses one last kiss to your clit through the damp material of your underwear. It makes you jolt, but she steadies your hip with her hand as she pulls the lace to the side slowly. You can’t help but gaze down at Paige, locked in on the way her eyes glaze over with desire when your cunt is finally revealed to her.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Maybe it’s been a fire that has been slowly burning ever since she initially hinted at flying out and taking you up on your offer. Now, all you can focus on is the way her hands grip your strong thighs, holding you open as she dives in to lick a long, slow stripe up the length of your slit.

You both moan in tandem – yours of pleasure and hers in awe. You’re dripping onto her comforter, hardly able to feel much remorse about it, but something tells you that Paige is really fucking into the fact that she has you so pliant beneath her.

Her tongue is exploratory, drinking in every drop of your arousal, her brows pinched together as she focuses on building you up. Her nose brushes against your clit while her tongue finds the source, licking you clean like she’s stranded in a desert and you’re the only thing that could satiate her thirst.

She’s wild, her tongue everywhere all at once, muttering messily into your cunt about how you “taste so fucking good,” but you’re sure you fall apart completely when her lips close around your clit and she sucks.

Your brain is mush. You’re not sure if you want to keep your eyes on her or let your head fall back into her pillows, unable to process the pleasure fully.

Paige makes the decision for you when your eyes slip shut and she nips at your clit gently – not enough to hurt (even though it sends a surge of pleasure up your spine, anyhow), but enough to get your attention.

The message is clear – she wants your attention. Thinking about how she’s probably getting off from you watching her makes the heat coil in your stomach, ready to snap at any given moment.

You tangle your fingers in her messy hair, pressing her deeper into you, head tipping back in pleasure when she doubles down on her motions. Paige is ravenous, tongue circling your clit, never once stopping or slowing.

Not until your thighs are shaking from pleasure. Not until the tears bead at your waterline. Not until she encloses her lips around your clit again, her cheeks hollowing from the pressure, and releasing you to drag the arousal from your entrance to your clit, coating it completely.

You’re wholly unprepared for the first press of her fingers against your entrance. Paige doesn’t push in – not yet. She drags her fingers through your folds, soaking them, listening and looking for your reaction as she probes deeper.

The first finger sinks in until it reaches her knuckle, punching a breathless moan out of you, and she curls her finger as she pulls out. She’s a quick study – learning what you like and how much pressure she needs to unravel you completely. But she’s slow, not adding in another finger. You get the message instantly when her eyes find you, her gaze dark and imploring.

Not above begging, your voice is hoarse, rough from your moans, your lips split-slick and bitten. “Please, Paige, keep going,” you request, clenching around the single finger in you. “More, please, fuck–” The words get caught in your throat when she smiles against you, taking your clit in her mouth again just as she slides in a second finger. Too far gone, you can’t help the repeated, delirious ramble of “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” or the choked out, “So fucking good.”

The more vocal you get, the more she gives you. Her lips and her tongue speed up, flicking against your clit with a devastating intensity. Paige’s finger’s scissor inside you more firmly, sliding in deeper with every thrust, particularly timed with her mouth. It’s a Pavlonian response. The pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t find it in yourself to be too embarrassed by how loud you are.

You chant her name, breathless little sounds that sound more like pleas than sentences. The grip on her hair must be painful but she never slows. She’s fucking you closer and closer to the peak, and when it finally arrives, warning her is all you can do.

She’s heedless, her pace somehow intensifying even more, and you come with a sob that’s a mix of her name and a string of curses as the pleasure washes over you.

Paige doesn’t stop, drinking in every drop of you like she’s parched, her fingers slowing as they work you gently through the shockwaves. You’re breathless, stuttering through the euphoria, gratitude lacing your words.

When she pulls away, the bottom half of her face is slick with your arousal, her tongue darting out to catch the edges of her lips, but it’s like drops of water in a bucket. For all intents and purposes, she’d been drowned, but her grin tells you she would have been more than happy to go out that way.

Boneless and limp in bed, she trails her lips up your body until she finds your lips, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself on your tongue. The taste is heady, something you’d probably attribute to the taste of her, too, and you can’t help but moan against her lips, your body burning under the touch again.

“Don’t think I’m letting you tap out so soon,” she murmurs, squeezing your waist and peering down at you. “We haven’t even started.”

“Greedy,” you say teasingly.

Her subsequent grin is sharp, nipping your lip gently. “And proud,” she states, already leaning over and digging through the drawer of her nightstand. When her hand comes back into view, she’s holding a strap and the harness.

The sight of it makes your brows raise – it’s modest in size, but it’s still bigger than anything you’ve ever taken, both in length and girth. “What?” she asks, a smirk appearing on her lips as she fastens the harness around her hips.

“It’s big,” you point out obviously, but the heat is already licking at your skin again as you stare at it longingly.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she retorts. The strap hanging from her hips makes your mouth water, and you suppose this is what you wanted anyway – for Paige to ruin you. She glances at you curiously, able to read how your hesitation washes away. You’re safe with her. She wouldn’t hurt you. That thought alone makes you a little more hungry for it. “Trust me, you ain’t gotta worry.” She drags her fingers through your folds again, raising it to the lamplight and showing you how they shine. It makes you blush, but her smirk is a little insufferable. “But, I mean…if you wanna try something smaller–”

“No,” you disagree a little too quickly. She raises a challenging brow, one that infuriates you. She’d been mean all night – teasing you and working you up. And, sure, she delivered, but you think that she deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

You wrap your legs around her waist, and in a quick motion, you flip the both of you over, straddling her waist with your hands on her chest. She’s a little breathless, eyes wide and pupils dilated, yet you can spot the impressed look in her gaze. “You don’t think I can handle it?”

“Didn’t say that,” she says, her eyes drinking you in, the fucked out look on your face and she bruises covering your skin. Her hands find your waist, pulling you onto her fully – onto the strap – and she guides you into a slow grind, taking back the control seamlessly as you gasp. Paige grunts, too, the strap pressing back into her clit, and the fact that she’s feeling as good as you are makes you tremble with want.

“You insinuated it,” you argue, a little miffed.

She grins like your indignance is cute. “Just tryna be in you, mama,” she says, tugging you down a little harder, and it punches a moan out of you. “You gonna let me do that or are we gonna sit here and argue all night?”

You narrow your eyes at her, but you don’t say much else, and she draws her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes down at where your centers connect. “That’s what I thought.” Her words are mostly said to herself.

She grips the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down your legs – you adjust to help her pull them off, and she throws them to the side.

Now that you’re completely bare, she pulls you down onto the strap again, your arousal coating the silicone. The unrestricted contact makes you shiver and you loop your arms around her neck for stability while one of hers finds your waist again.

With her free hand, she reaches for the base of the strap, guiding it to your entrance and holding you steady – the tip of the strap brushes against you, but she doesn’t allow you to move.

Her eyes are zeroed in on where you’re clenching around nothing, your arousal leaking out of you. Then, finally, she pulls you down slowly, controlling each and every small movement. Your breath hitches when the head breaches inside, pressing into you, and Paige kisses all over your chest to soothe you.

“Good, that’s it,” she murmurs, lips encircling a nipple as she pulls you a little further down. The stretch is delicious, splitting you open, her hands mapping out your skin. She grips the flesh of your ass in one large hand, the other reaching around to rub featherlight circles on your clit to distract you.

The sensations are overwhelming in the best way possible. Her mouth drags wet kisses across your body while she listens for your reaction. Paige lowers you further down, drawing a drawn out moan from you, and you feel her grin against your breast as you tighten your grip around her neck, pulling her tighter against you.

“Perfect girl. Taking me so well,” she coos. Her body is impossibly warm against you and you can feel yourself relaxing into it, wanting to sink down completely, but she doesn’t let you. “Want you to feel good, baby. Don’t rush it.”

Still holding onto your annoyance from earlier, you can’t help your slight eye roll as you nip at her neck, sucking a matching hickey into her skin. She hisses, letting you fall another inch before gripping your hips tightly. “Would feel good if you just fucked me,” you state, staring at her with an expression that’s borderline pathetic. “What’d you say earlier? Just tryna be in you?”

“Think you have a patience problem,” she muses. “I’d heard so much about this southern hospitality bullshit growing up in the north, but it seems like you got a manners problem, too. I gotta teach you how to say please and thank you?”

You barely resist a sigh. Instead, you let your lips pucker out in a pout, the motion drawing Paige’s attention immediately. You press closer to her, your breasts dragging against her chest, and she sighs from the feeling. “Please, Paigey?” you beg in a near whimper, taking the hitch in her breathing as a sign that you’re doing something right. “Just want you to fuck me. Been good for you all night, haven’t I? And I promised to welcome you to Dallas. Let me make you feel good.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but the way her throat bobs tells you she’s minutes away from flipping you over and making you forget your name. “You’re dangerous,” she whispers.

“I’m yours,” you respond, and that’s enough for her. Paige drags you down the last few inches, bottoming out. You moan into her neck, the hand at the small of your back pressing you into her. You’re sure that you’re soaking her lap, but judging by the way her hips rut up into yours, she likes knowing how fucked she has you.

Her hands settle at the bottom of your ass, pulling you up as she mouths at your chest, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. You sink down on the strap again. The sound is obscene, drawing a gasp from you, and you repeat the motion.

Up, then down. Up, then down, beginning to set the pace for yourself, but making sure you grind at the bottom of your strokes to make sure that Paige is getting off too. Her eyes are hooded, darting from your face, to your chest, to the apex of your thighs where you’re soaking the strap.

“Fuck,” she groans, her voice rough, and it sends white hot desire up your spine. She speeds up your motions, the veins on her hand protruding from the effort of keeping you upright, her jaw unhinging in awe as she stares at you. 

You allow yourself a small smirk, your right hand tilting her head back, revealing the expanse of her throat as you grind down onto her. With your ears so close to her mouth, you can hear every stutter in her breath, every jilted moan she tries to hold back, the hiss of pleasure when you bite down, sucking dark marks into her skin. 

When her motions start becoming desperate, her hips bucking up into yours in time with every drag down like she’s trying to chase her high, you reach down for her hands, tangling your fingers together and pressing them into the pillows over her head. 

“Really?” you murmur, your lips ghosting the dip in her throat. “You’re this close just from helping me get off?”

She laughs a little, something that sounds like a sob mixed with a whine, and her jaw falls slack in a low groan when your lips attach to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Can’t help it,” Paige manages. Her lips are slick, bitten raw, so you kiss her deeply, swallowing the sound she makes when you grind down especially hard. “Think you like it, though.”

“Mmm,” you hum. You speed up your motions, feeling your thighs and your stomach burn with the effort, but also feeling yourself teeter on the edge of crashing down completely. Your thrusts draw out another moan from Paige, one that makes you grin – because she’d tried so hard to keep herself together, to pretend she was here to fuck you and not the other way around. “Think I just like you.”

That makes a lazy smile appear on her face. Paige pulls one of her hands out of your grip, inching towards your throat and tangling in the necklace there. “Yeah?” she goads, her tone a little insufferable. “Didn’t – fuck – didn’t think I affected you.”

You’re still rutting against her, sweat beading on your temples as you argue, “You don’t.”

But that just makes her grin turn a little more smug. She releases your necklace, her fingers pressing lightly into the sides of your throat, squeezing once in warning. It makes your hips stutter, your breath catching. “Keep lyin’, mama,” she mutters, something dark in her eyes as her fingers trail down your body. One tweaks a nipple, kneading a breast as you gasp. Then, she goes lower still, bracing her large hand over you while her thumb finds your clit, rubbing messy circles through the slick there.

You lose your rhythm again, whimpering, but you keep going despite the exhaustion. It’s less about your pleasure now. You need to get Paige off, to tear down that ego of hers, to silence her for once. Even as you stare down at her, your eyes a little hooded, you realize she enjoys receiving as much as she enjoys giving, and there’s truly no winning with her – she’s getting off either way. 

“Actin’ like I don’t know you already,” she continues, her thumb as ruinous as her hips – as ruinous as her words. “What you like. What you need.” You could fall apart like this – her words picking you apart piece by piece, her thumb reminding you that she has you right where you want her. Paige gazes up at you, her pupils blown wide, but you can make out the challenge in the blue of her eyes – she’s daring you to get smart again.

But you’re just as competitive as she is. Without faltering in your movements, you lean slightly, reaching for the cowboy hat perched on her nightstand. It has Paige stitched on the bill. Her jaw falls slack again as she watches you slide it over your head.

“You talk too much,” you retort, and then you’re doubling down again. You can tell the image of you wearing Paige’s hat is doing something to her – the way it bounces in time with your thrusts, combined with the wrecked sounds leaving your lips, the slick sound of the strap deep inside you, the fact that Paige wants you so bad it makes her stupid. 

It doesn’t take much longer after that. You and Paige were already pent up. Her thumb quickens on your clit, her free hand gripping your hips tight enough to leave a bruise as she drags you up and down relentlessly, her own hips meeting yours. You can tell she’s getting close when her breathing turns ragged and her face burns red. You’re right there with her, digging your nails into her shoulders for stability as you push yourself to your high.

Part of you expects Paige to open her mouth again, to say something slick that would leave you trembling, but you don’t give her the chance to. You pull her face to yours, silencing your cries with her lips. You shiver when she bites down on your bottom lip harshly, soothing the sting with her tongue. “‘M close,” you manage breathlessly, holding onto her tightly – feeling as though your orgasm would wreck you completely. 

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice choked. “Let go, mama, I’m right here.”

So you do, the pleasure washing over you completely as you cry out, sagging onto her body bonelessly, the cowboy hat falling off to the side of the bed. Paige drags you against the strap, riding out the high, her jaw slack in wordless pleasure while her body burns. She doesn’t still until you push her hands off of you, the overstimulation buzzing under your skin.

Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing uneven. You hardly have the energy to slide off of the strap, so you settle for holding onto Paige, tucking your head into the crook of her neck where sweat glistens and the lingering scent of her cologne remains. You shift, feeling the soaked comforter beneath both of you. It’s enough to make you groan.

But then Paige is shifting, too, the strap brushing against a spot inside you that punches a moan out of you. You don’t have to look up to know she’s smirking. “Chill,” you admonish, your body still sizzling. You don’t know how she still has the energy and the stamina to go after she just turned you inside out, but she moves her hips again, on purpose this time, and the heat coiling in your belly returns tenfold. “You’re insatiable.”

“Look who’s in my bed,” she says as if it explains everything. You just shake your head, amused by her. Paige’s fingers trail down your sides, brushing against your skin while she presses featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheeks, the hinge of your jaw. “Know you’ve got one more for me, don’t you?”

You can’t find the words, but you don’t need to. You grab onto her chain – mostly to hold her in place, and you kiss her – deep, lingering, soft despite the moment prior. She grins against you, sliding the strap out as she maneuvers you. The emptiness makes you sigh, but the shift doesn’t take long. She angles you until you can see your bodies in the mirror across her room, your breath catching at the insinuation.

You watch through the mirror as she reaches for the cowboy hat again, settling it over her messy curls. Her smile is determined – like she’s not quite satisfied, not content with the two orgasms she’d pulled from you; ravenous like she can’t wait to have you again. It shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but the flame is licking at you once more and you can’t help but succumb to the fire.

She wraps her right arm around your waist, pulling you up to a kneeling position while she settles in behind you. The strap brushes against you. The sensitivity makes you jolt, but Paige soothes you with a hushed murmur, her hand pressing against your stomach and keeping you tethered. “Want you to watch,” she whispers in your ear. Her right hand abandons your waist to hold you by the jaw, gently tilting your head up until you make eye contact through the mirror.

You’re rendered breathless by the sight – Paige’s body eclipsing yours, the hickeys adorning your skin, the slick between your thighs that shines from the lamplight. Paige isn’t much better, either. Her hair is a mess, the hat on her head skewed to the side, her neck littered with your teeth marks, skin shining from exertion. For stability, you hold onto the arm that’s wrapped tightly around you, pushing back against the strap.

“Can you do that for me?” she asks, pushing her hips forward, dragging through your folds. You nod quickly, letting out a soft whine when the tip of the strap catches your sensitive clit. “Keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

“I will, Paige, promise – just…please–”

She hushes you again, kissing your neck. “I got you, baby. Relax for me, okay? Gonna give it to you. Just need you to be good for me.” You nod again, melting into her body, and with the hand not holding you upright, she guides the strap to your entrance. You moan softly as she slides inside with little resistance, bottoming out as she murmurs, “That’s it, perfect girl. You take me so well.”

You can’t muster the words to respond to that, so you lean your head on hers when she drags the strap out, then pushes back in with a devastating slowness that you feel throughout your entire body. Your body is still buzzing with oversensitivity, but the slowness of her thrusts helps to ground you.

She glances up to the mirror to ensure you’re still looking at her – which you are, enraptured and unable to look away – before she trails her lips down your neck, pressing gentle, wet kisses to your overheated skin.

She’s softer now. Soft in a way that makes you clench around the strap breathlessly, tilting your head to give her more access to your neck. She recognizes that it won’t take much to build you up again, more focused on making sure you enjoy every second – every motion, every push and pull of the strap. Paige plants a kiss on every hickey she’d left on your body, her actions borderline reverent in a way that makes you want to come for her again and again and again.

With one arm still wrapped around your chest, holding onto your jaw, the other wraps around your hips, holding you by the stomach.

Unable to look away, you tighten your grip on her arms, trying not to fall apart too soon. Your stomach coils, already close, but Paige moves slowly, her thrusts hitting deep, and you’re all too content to float along the current of pleasure. Her lips still ghost across your body, licking the salt off of your skin, pressing gentle apologies to the dark spots on your neck.

“You want more, mama?” she murmurs in your ear, a gentle check in despite the question. You hardly have to think about it before you nod. With the hand braced over hers, you drag her left hand down, her fingers finding your clit with ease.

She doesn’t apply much pressure, just enough for you to feel it without overpowering the sensations. You don’t let go either, guiding her motions, moving it further down to gather more of your slick before bringing it back up to circle your clit.

The slide makes it impossibly sweeter – she tightens her circles, pushing deeper inside you with the strap, the tip brushing against the spongy spot inside of you that makes you keen.

Paige doesn’t slow. She doesn’t speed up. She keeps her pace deliciously consistent, the strap dragging in and out of you deliberately, her fingers working you up in tandem.

Her free hand keeps your gaze locked on the mirror, watching her as she kisses your neck, the shell of your ear, listening to her breath heavily as if she’s feeling everything you are, too. That thought alone makes your hips stutter, pressing back into her.

She soothes you with gentle whispers. “So good for me, baby,” she’d say, or she’d time the circling of your clit with a deeper thrust, murmuring, “You feel me? Want you to feel good.” And the stupid hat makes you unravel a little bit more – it hangs off of her head loosely, threatening to fall at any moment, but all you can think about is how you rode her wearing her hat, how she claimed you in the club and how she made you fall apart wearing something with her name on it. You’re hers now, and honestly, you don’t hate that idea.

It doesn’t take much longer before your eyes are slipping shut, confessing, “Close, P,” in a hoarse voice. The sensations are overwhelming – her hot skin pressed against yours, the strap sliding through you and hitting spots you’d never knew existed, the maddening feeling of her thumb against your clit, her breathing against your ear, the pounding of her heartbeat against your back revealing just how close she is to falling apart, too.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, her motions never slowing, kissing your neck again. But she presses her fingers a little more firmly to your clit, her free hand tapping against your cheek to gather your attention.

Your eyes blink open, finding the mirror again, the ruined look on her face. She looks desperate – not to get off, but desperate to watch you get off. “Want you to watch yourself.” Her voice is a little broken, almost begging, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. “You look so pretty when you come for me, you know that? Wanna watch you do it over and over and over again.”

“Paige,” you gasp, the sound coming out like a half-sob, half-whine, the pleasure building and the heat coiling.

But she hardly hears you, her eyes glazed over and pussy drunk. Her jaw hangs slack like she’s the one being fucked, her breathing uneven and heavy. “You feel so good,” she rambles. “Like you were made just for me. Can’t get enough of you. Please, mama, wanna see you fall apart for me. You’re so good, so fucking perfect–”

The coil snaps, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins, electricity down your spine, and all you can do is sag back into her one final time, moans tumbling from your lips while she works you through the aftershocks.

Her hips and her fingers slow, murmuring incoherent sentences into your ear, her words dripping in both gratitude and a satiated desire like watching you get off finally quenched a thirst she’s been harboring for years.

You don’t have to say anything, either – it’s like she knows your body by heart now. Gingerly, she slips the strap out of your soaked cunt and detaches her fingers from your sensitive clit. As much as you’d love to feel her skin against yours, her hips dragging against yours, you can barely keep your eyes open. The final aftershocks dissipate, your thighs calming, the pleasurable fog in your brain clearing.

“You still with me?” she asks softly, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head with her clean hand.

At that, all you can do is muster a laugh, your eyes opening blearily. “Yeah,” you say, “no thanks to you, though.”

“Hmm,” she scoffs, amusement in her eyes. “Coulda sworn this was exactly what you wanted. You know, open legs and all.”

“Alright,” you deadpan, attempting to roll on your side, but you can’t summon the strength. You settle for some weird half angle that’s hardly worth the drama of the moment. “Goodnight!”

“No way,” Paige laughs. “C’mon. I need you awake. Lemme run you a bath and change these sheets so you can rest, okay? You good with that?”

You meet her eyes again, your smile softening at the gentle earnestness on her face. If she hadn’t already ruined you before, you’re sure you are now. But there’s something in her eyes that promises this might not be a one night thing after all. “Yeah,” you whisper, drawing her closer to plant a chaste, affectionate kiss to her lips. You feel her grin. “You’re gonna have to carry me, though.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” she assures you, crawling off the bed and unbuckling the harness on her hips. She throws it haphazardly into the adjacent bathroom and you try not to laugh when something clatters to the floor. Paige picks you up with ease, one arm looping under your knees and the other wrapping around your back. She sets you on the edge of the tub as she heats up the water, helping you into it gingerly and tossing in a eucalyptus bath bomb for your aches. Before she leaves to swap the sheets, she plants a soft kiss onto your forehead.

You soak for a few moments until she returns, offering you a small smile before she slips in behind you. Her body is almost as warm as the water and twice as soft. She massages the shampoo and conditioner into your hair and jokingly points out her assault on your neck with a mixture of pride and concern. You tell her she’ll have to buy your concealer in bulk but when she murmurs, “As long as I get to see you again,” you find that you don’t really care about the marks on your neck as long as you get to keep this annoyingly charming, devastatingly beautiful athlete in your life.

Paige helps you out of the tub, your eyes drooping once more, dressing you in a pair of her boxers and an oversized t-shirt from her college days. She guides you back to bed gingerly, the sheets fresh and clean, and you have your head on her chest before she’s even got her head on the pillow. She grins because it doesn’t bother her at all. You smile because her heart’s pounding and you think you know why it is.

Just before you fall into a blissful, exhausted sleep, Paige’s voice cuts through the fog once more. “About that offer,” she whispers, tapping on the leg you have slung across hers. “Does it expire?”

She jokes, but you can hear the truth of her question beyond it. She’s not referring to your legs. Not literally.

Your smile is tired, but it’s no less affectionate. “For you?” you echo, drowsiness lacing your tone. “No. It’s renewable.”

“How long?”

You’re quiet for a beat, just enough to consider your words.

Is this something you want? Relationships can be hard. Tricky. But something about Paige tells you she’s in for the ride. That you can trust her – with you and your heart.

So you press a kiss to the hinge of her jaw, feeling her cheeks stretch with a smile, and you make her a promise:

“As long as you want.”

THE BABY FEVER FREE ME

My Paigey

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball / WNBA (UConn, Dallas Wings)

Summary: bringing Paige home for Easter, where our (my) five-year-old niece Aria quickly claims Paige as her own(once again)—and refuses to let go.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowngirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee, @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr, @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog

Easter back home always meant chaos: pastel dresses, chocolate bunnies, church pews packed tighter than my carry-on suitcase, and Aria—my five-year-old niece who had enough sass and charm to run the whole family if we let her.

This year, though, she had a partner-in-crime.

“Are we almost there?” Paige’s voice curled softly in my ear, her hand resting on my thigh as I drove down the familiar two-lane road to my parents’ house.

“Two more turns,” I said, glancing over with a grin. “Excited?”

She smiled, brushing her long hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Nervous too. Your mom likes me, right?”

“She already follows you on Instagram and sends me screenshots when you post anything remotely cute.”

“That’s almost everything I post.” She smirked, the cocky confidence slipping in—my favorite look on her.

I parked the car and we hadn’t even finished getting our bags out before the screen door slammed open.

“YOU’RE HERE!”

A blur of curls and bunny socks came flying off the porch and slammed into my legs. “Hi Aria—!”

“No! I wanna hug Paigey first!”

I watched, mock-offended, as Aria let go of me like yesterday’s news and threw her tiny arms around Paige’s waist, looking up at her with sparkling brown eyes.

Paige crouched down, giggling. “Hey, Jellybean. Missed you too.”

“Are you staying forever this time?” Aria asked seriously, and I saw my mom chuckle behind the screen door.

Paige glanced at me, then back at her. “I’m here all Easter weekend. That cool?”

Aria nodded, then clutched Paige’s hand like she was some magical Disney princess who’d just stepped off a float.

That set the tone for the rest of the weekend.

Aria insisted on riding to church in Paige’s lap—obviously not allowed—so we compromised. She sat next to Paige, then climbed into her lap halfway through the opening hymn, arms tucked around Paige’s waist like she was shielding her from rogue hymnal books.

I leaned in, whispering, “You good over there, P?”

Paige smiled down at Aria, whose head now rested on her shoulder. “I think I’ve been claimed, for marriage and it’s not to you.”

“I see that.”

Aria looked up. “I told the Easter Bunny to give Paigey the biggest basket.”

Paige laughed quietly. “Wow, thank you. That’s very generous.”

“I didn’t get you chocolate ‘cause Mommy says I’m not allowed sugar before naps. But you can have my yellow jellybeans.”

“Those are your favorites,” Paige said softly.

Aria shrugged like a martyr. “You’re my favorite now.”

I gasped dramatically. “Wow. I’m right here.”

“You still smell like car air-freshener.”

Getting Aria down for her nap was usually an ordeal involving at least two parents, one sippy cup, and a very specific Spotify playlist of ocean waves and Moana ballads.

Today? She snuggled into Paige’s arms on the couch while the adults cleared up post-church snacks and deviled eggs. Her eyes drooped, her thumb popped into her mouth, and Paige just rocked her gently with one arm while sipping sweet tea with the other.

“She’s out,” Paige whispered to me proudly.

“You’re literally a miracle worker.”

“She called me her ‘Paigey’ again.”

“You are her Paigey,” I teased. “Face it. You’re hers now.”

Easter Egg Hunt – Later

As soon as Aria woke up, her first word was, “Paigey?”

Paige appeared in the doorway with her sneakers on and a pink hoodie. “Ready to hunt some eggs?”

Aria lit up. “YES. But only if you help me.”

She refused to let Paige leave her side during the entire backyard Easter egg hunt. Even when she spotted a plastic egg half-hidden behind the tulips, she waited for Paige to walk with her to go get it.

“I got the sparkle egg,” she announced proudly, then looked at Paige. “You get to open it.”

“I feel honored.”

“It’s just jellybeans,” Aria said, then paused. “You want the yellow ones.”

“I do.”

After the hunt, Paige lifted her onto her hip like it was second nature, balancing Aria with one arm while helping my mom clean up candy wrappers with the other. I just stood there watching her like an idiot.

“You’re down bad,” my brother whispered, nudging me.

“She’s got my niece under a spell.”

He smirked. “So do you. Just not the same kind.”

The next morning, Paige and I were saying our see you laters and panicking up so we could head back home, and everything was going smoothly.

However, except I could hear Aria’s dramatic wails before I even zipped up my suitcase.

“NOOOOOOOO.”

I walked out to the living room and found her gripping Paige’s leg like a lifeline, face scrunched, little cheeks tear-streaked.

“She said she has to go back to Netticut,” Aria sniffled. “But she’s mine.”

Paige bent down gently. “I am yours. I just have to pack my stuff that’s at the me and auntie Y/n’s place so I can go play basketball with the big girls, remember?”

“No!” Aria shook her head violently. “I wanna come too. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll pack jellybeans.”

I looked at Paige.

She looked at me.

I nodded. “Screw it. We’re taking her.”

We had set Aria up on the pull-out couch in our guest room, with her favorite pillow from home and a giant stuffed bunny Paige won her at a carnival last summer.

She FaceTimed her mom the first night.

“Hi Mommy. I’m good. Paigey made me waffles. Okay, bye.”

And hung up.

That was the new routine.

FaceTime in the morning: “Hi Mommy, I brushed my teeth! Paigey let me use her sparkly toothpaste! Okay bye.”

FaceTime before bed: “Paigey read me three books. And I had mac and cheese. Okay, night!”

She barely remembered we were supposed to be dropping her back off at home after one weekend.

“Okay, Jellybean” Paige said, lifting Aria into the air while I folded her last pair of UConn sweatpants. “Want to help me put this in the box?”

Aria dropped the shirt in and looked around. “Your room is empty.”

“I know. I’m moving to Dallas soon, remember?”

“Do I get to come to Dallas?”

I laughed. “You’d love Texas. Big parks. Lots of bunnies. Maybe Paigey can find you some yellow jellybeans there too.”

Paige looked at me over Aria’s head. “We’re seriously taking her to Texas, aren’t we?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Aria crawled into one of Paige’s empty storage bins. “I fit in here.”

“You do,” Paige said, grinning. “You ready to move in with Auntie Paige and Y/N?”

“I been ready.”

“She’s gonna forget she has parents,” my sister joked over FaceTime as Aria ran around in the background in Paige’s oversized practice jersey.

“She has parents,” I said. “She just… prefers her Paigey.”

Paige walked by, sipping a smoothie. “Is it weird that I kinda love it?”

My sister smiled. “It’s not weird. It’s a little terrifying, but also adorable. You guys are her favorite people in the world.”

“Paigey is my best friend,” Aria said, running up to the phone.

“And who am I?” I asked, teasing.

“My other best friend. But Paigey’s my favorite-favorite.”

Paige just shot me a smug look.

We ended up flying Aria home two days before Paige left for Dallas.

She cried the whole ride to the airport, clutching Paige’s hand the entire time.

“I’ll come visit you,” Paige whispered into her hair. “And I’ll send you pictures from every new place, okay?”

“You pwomise.”

“Yeah, jellybean. I promise.” She said locking pinkies with Aria.

When we finally got back to the apartment, Paige leaned her head back on the couch and exhaled.

“I miss her already.”

“You’re gonna be the coolest WNBA auntie ever.”

“I’m gonna send her a stuffed armadillo from Texas.”

“She’s gonna sleep with it every night.”

We both looked out the window in silence for a moment.

“She’s gonna grow up so fast,” Paige said softly.

I reached over, lacing my fingers with hers. “We’ll still be her Paigey and Y/N.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Later That Night

I got a text.

From Aria.

(Okay, from my sister’s phone, but still.)

It was a drawing. Paige and I holding hands. Aria in the middle. A rainbow over our heads. And above it, in Aria’s all-caps handwriting:

“MY PAIGEY. MY Y/N. MY FAMILY.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

The idea of someone else not being able to keep their hands off my body is literally intoxicating

like sorry I just want to be desired