OMG

playin it cool - paige bueckers x reader!

s: your best friend drags you out to a dallas club for a much needed girls’ night, but the last thing you expect is to spend it making eyes with paige bueckers across the room.

w: smut, dom!paige, heavy sexual tension, explicit language, club setting, alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving + giving), strap 👀, confident!paige, flirty banter, minor teasing/dirty talk, reader is kinda cocky but lowkey nervous too

word count: 4.6k

the thing about dallas is… it’s hot. even at night. even when you’re tipsy and wearing next to nothing.

“goddamn,” your best friend whistles when you step out of your apartment, hands dramatically framing your body like she’s casting a spell. “you trying to get fucked tonight orrrr…?”

you roll your eyes, smoothing your palms down the sides of your denim skirt. it’s short, snug, and sitting just right on your hips. paired with the slinky little sparkly top barely holding onto your chest and your favorite black boots, you were definitely giving that. unintentionally of course.

“i’m trying to get a drink,” you say dryly. “and maybe a dance.”

“mm right,” she smirks, unlocking her car. “bet you won’t be saying that once you see who’s at the club tonight.”

you shoot her a look as you slide into the passenger seat. “why, who?”

she shrugs, the casual kind of shrug that means she knows exactly what she’s doing. “heard some of the dallas wings team might be there. it’s one of their spots, apparently.”

you blink. “okay? and?”

she laughs, shaking her head. “girl, they’re hot. they’re athletes. most of them are gay. sounds like your exact type.”

you snort. “they’re also famous. you think they’re fucking regular ass people from dallas?”

“uhhh yes?” she counters immediately. “athletes be horny too, bitch. they don’t care who you are as long as you’re hot.” she looks you up and down again. “which you very much are.”

you just laugh, resting your head against the seat as she drives. your phone buzzes in your purse, but you ignore it. tonight’s about letting go. or at least pretending to.

—

the club is packed by the time you get there.

some 90s hip hop track is blasting through the speakers, bass so deep you feel it in your chest. the lights are dim, neon purple and pink casting shadows across the dance floor. the air is thick— perfume, cologne, weed, alcohol, hookah and people are already pressed up against each other, laughing, drinking, grinding.

“this is so our vibe,” your friend says, grabbing your hand as you both maneuver toward the bar.

you order a tequila soda—strong, but manageable, while she goes for something vodka-based that smells like it could knock you out in one sip.

“i’m getting fucked up and getting some dick tonight,” she says confidently, clinking her glass against yours.

“have fun with that,” you grin, taking your first sip.

and then you see them.

a group of tall-ass women in the corner, posted up like they own the place. they move like athletes, hold themselves like it too. and when you scan the group, eyes skating over braids and biceps and bottles—

you see her.

she’s leaning back against the booth, one arm slung casually over the backrest, a lazy smirk on her face like she knows exactly how good she looks. she’s wearing a fitted white tee, jewelry glinting on her wrist and neck, blonde hair in that messy perfect state that looks both effortless and deliberate. and she’s looking at you.

hard.

you weren’t expecting the eye contact. weren’t expecting it to feel like a fucking pull.

you drop your gaze immediately, acting cool as you turn back to the bar just in time to grab your drink.

but your best friend caught it. obviously.

“bitch,” she says, eyes wide. “you two were eye- fucking.”

“no we weren’t,” you scoff, sipping your drink.

she cocks her head. “okay, so why is she walking over here right now?”

“shit.”

you barely have time to fix your expression before she’s in front of you. paige fucking bueckers. in the flesh. up close. prettier than her highlights, smoother than you were ready for.

“hey,” she says, voice low, smooth.

you glance up, matching her energy. “hey.”

she looks you up and down—not subtly. “you got a name?”

you bite back your smile. “you first.”

that gets a laugh out of her. “i’m paige.”

“oh yeah?” you say innocently. “you play ball or something?”

her smile deepens. “something like that.”

you tell her your name, and she repeats it, like she’s trying it on for size. it sounds real good coming from her mouth.

“you from dallas?” she asks, sipping whatever drink she’s holding.

you shrug. “born and raised. why?”

“just curious.” she’s close now, arm brushing yours. “you got that local vibe.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what does that mean?”

“means you’re fine as hell and chill bout it.”

you laugh. “so that’s your type?”

“tonight it is.”

the conversation keeps going like that—easy, teasing, warm. paige is bold, but never cocky, smooth without trying too hard. you keep your tone light, but your heart’s beating fast. the tension’s building. every time she leans in closer, you feel it.

“so what do you do?” she asks, gaze slow as it trails down your legs and back up, eyes catching on the hem of your skirt. “besides drive people crazy looking like that.”

you grin. “i work in sports media. real job and everything. been with bleacher’s report since i graduated.”

her eyebrows go up, impressed. “okay, big-time.”

“you’re one to talk.”

she smirks. “you’ve been watching me?”

“you were hard to miss.”

there’s a pause. her gaze dips to your lips.

“you wanna get out of here?” she asks, voice lower now. rougher.

you tilt your head. “who said i was interested?”

her expression falters, just for a second. and then she recovers, leans in even closer. “your body language. it’s saying otherwise.”

you stare at her for a beat. then smile.

“give me five minutes.”

you find your best friend, ask her if she’s good. she grins, waving you off toward paige like a damn matchmaker.

and that’s how you end up in the passenger seat of paige bueckers’ car, her hand sliding onto your thigh the second she pulls out of the lot.

—

her apartment is nice. new, clearly—modern countertops, tall ceilings, basketballs and duffle bags tossed in the corner. not a ton of decoration yet, but it smells like her. expensive cologne, subtle vanilla.

she hands you a bottle of water before you even sit down.

“hydration is sexy,” she says with a wink.

you laugh, sipping it. “you always this polite after trying to pick someone up?”

she shrugs. “just making sure your hydrated.”

you sit on her couch. the tension between you is practically humming.

and she’s just… staring.

like she wants to devour you.

you raise an eyebrow. “you just gonna keep looking at me like that?”

she leans forward, voice dropping. “or what?”

you smirk. “or you could do something about it.”

she doesn’t need to be told twice.

she’s on you in seconds—lips on yours, hands already gripping your waist, pulling you into her lap like she can’t wait a second longer. the kiss is hot—all tongue and teeth and desperate breaths. she tastes like vodka and mint, and her fingers are already pushing up your skirt.

“fuck,” she mutters, tugging your top off, eyes drinking you in. “you’re so fucking sexy.”

you laugh against her mouth, tugging at her shirt. “you too cocky to be this good a kisser.”

“you’ve seen nothing yet.”

she stands, pulling you with her, dragging you toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

by the time you hit the mattress, your skirt is gone. her hands are everywhere—pinning your hips down, trailing over your thighs, slipping under your underwear.

and then she’s eating you like she’s starving. no hesitation, no warm-up—just her mouth, hot and slick and fucking relentless.

“shit, paige—”

she moans into you, sucking your clit, holding your legs open like you might disappear if she doesn’t keep you in place. it’s intense. overwhelming. fast.

“feel good?” she mutters, voice rough.

“yes don’t stop—”

you cum embarrassingly quick, thighs shaking, but she doesn’t stop. not until you’re crying out again, and then she finally lets up, crawling over you with a smug smile.

“you gonna be good for me now?” she asks, breathless.

you flip her over in response, grinning. “your turn.”

you go down on her, making her writhe and moan and beg—and you love every second of it. love the way her voice breaks when she says your name. love the way she tugs your hair when she gets close

you don’t stop until she cums hard, hips shaking, voice raw from moaning. her hand stays in your hair, fingers tightening every time you kiss your way up her stomach, over her chest, up to her throat.

you’re still catching your breath when she flips you.

“you think you have one more in you?” she asks.

quick. effortless. like she’s been waiting.

“yeah.” you say quickly.

“you look so good like this,” she murmurs, eyes dragging down your body like she wants to ruin you. “legs spread, already so fucking wet for me.”

you reach for her, but she’s already off the bed, grabbing the purple strap from the drawer like she knew exactly when she’d use it. you swallow hard, breath catching as she steps into it—slow, teasing, powerful.

“you ready for me, baby?” she asks, tone low and smug. “or do i need to make you beg a little first?”

you don’t give her the satisfaction—just hold her gaze, daring her. “i’ve been ready.”

she climbs back on top of you, hands firm on your hips as she lines the strap up and slides in slow, making sure you feel all of it. your mouth falls open. a gasp leaves your throat, needy and unfiltered.

paige smirks. “that’s what i thought.”

then she fucks you.

deep, relentless strokes that leave you shaking. every thrust hits just right, has you crying out her name, clinging to her back, your nails dragging over her skin. she leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“you take me so well,” she whispers. “so fucking good for me. look at you—already close, huh?”

you nod, whimpering, thighs trembling around her. she picks up the pace, one hand slipping between your legs to rub tight, fast circles over your clit while she keeps pounding into you like she owns you.

“cum for me,” she growls, breath hot against your neck. “right now.”

and you do—loud, messy, body arching up into her like she’s the only thing that matters.

but she doesn’t stop.

she fucks you through it, chasing her own high from the way you fall apart underneath her.

“fuck. i’m gonna cum again.” she says.

and she does moaning your name.

when she finally slows down, she kisses you soft. breathless. a sharp contrast to everything she just did to you.

“still breathing?” she teases, stroking your cheek.

“barely.” you say jokingly.

she just grins at you, tracing your hip with her fingers.

“so… think you’ll be at that club next weekend?”

you roll your eyes. “you already trying to run it back?”

she shrugs, kissing your shoulder. “you’re local, right?”

you smirk, snuggling into her chest. “we’ll see.”

“well give me your number, just incase you need to know when i’ll be there.” she says smirking.

“yeah whatever.” you say laughing.

You're onto something, there's two cans...just maybe

Misss girl what are we doing with paint…..

Either you show your face and talk one on one or my post are gonna remain up. I already have everything ss, I'll make another account so quick to show who y'all really are🤷🏾‍♀️

I've been on this app for years, you wanted to send anons and you thought no one would know it was you...It was so easy to tell from the fact that you can bearly form correct sentnces. I know for a fact you learned about punctuation around mid 1900. I answered you and got in your feeling because I stated facts. No one's stupid enough to follow the account they wanna hate on then send them hate...bffr

You're "friends" obviously don't know shit. I have one account, I don't have the time to keep up with 3 more. That's a you thing. If those were really my accounts, there would be so much smut reposted on all of them💀

Knowing your unemployed ass, you're probably sending trashy anons people that aren't even apart of this. Pathetic 💕

✓ 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!)

More black/brown hello kitty for hello kitty girlz 🎀

I’m not Bre I’m your worst fucking nightmare. And it will be a lot worse than anons if you don’t take your huge hoe ass off tumblr.

So you're a incest defender...you're supporting the person that threatened people with suicide because she was in the wrong...

How about no💕😋💖

P. S "I'm your worst fucking nightmare" is beyond cringe oml😭

Paige and Drew

no like actually, I need a baby like rn

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which it was time for paige to share her life to the world

The Dallas heat clung to everything—your skin, your clothes, your breath. It had been one of those dry, hazy spring days where the city buzzed with anticipation, and today that energy had a name: Paige Bueckers.

Drafted to the Wings only a week ago, your wife had already been pulled in a hundred different directions—interviews, photoshoots, press conferences, sponsor obligations. And tonight, a team dinner to cap it all off.

You knew she was exhausted. You’d seen it in the slump of her shoulders when she got dressed earlier, the tired smile she gave you as she kissed your cheek goodbye. Still, she went. Paige always did the hard thing with grace.

You stayed home with your daughter.

The dinner had started off light—wings, tacos, laughter echoing around the table at some local spot her new teammates loved. Everyone was still riding high from the buzz around the team, and Paige, though quiet at first, settled in after a couple rounds of teasing and margaritas (which she didn’t even sip, but they still joked like she was three drinks in).

“So Paige,” Arike Ogunbowale said from across the table, grinning, “you and Azzi… what’s the deal?”

It was casual, playful—just a nudge in the middle of the chaos—but the whole table paused. Even the waitress setting down guacamole looked like she froze mid-motion.

Paige blinked once, then laughed. It was genuine, warm, and more amused than anything. “Me and Azzi? Nah. We’re just close. Like… family.”

Arike nodded, her mouth full of tortilla chip. “Okay, okay. Just checking. Social media’s obsessed.”

One of the rookies chimed in, “Yeah, I mean, you’re always together.”

Paige shrugged, still smiling. “That’s what happens when you’ve known someone since you were fifteen. She’s my best friend, that’s all.”

There was a flicker of something protective in her voice. Not sharp, but final.

The questions faded, and the conversation shifted toward next week’s training schedule. Paige let herself relax again, but a weight settled in her chest. They didn’t mean any harm. But part of her still hated that people couldn’t imagine her love life without assuming it had to be another basketball player.

No one had guessed the truth.

It was late when she got home. The house was quiet, soft golden light from the kitchen spilling into the hallway. Her sneakers came off with a sigh, and she padded softly down the hall.

First stop: the nursery.

The door was slightly cracked. Inside, a small figure lay sprawled on her belly, wild curly hair fanned out against the sheets. Her favorite stuffed puppy was clutched in one hand, the other hand thrown dramatically over her head like a tiny diva.

Paige stepped inside slowly, carefully. Her heart melted instantly.

She bent down, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “I love you, bug,” she whispered, so low it was barely sound. “So much.”

She lingered there for a second—watching, listening to the even rhythm of her baby girl’s breathing—then gently closed the door behind her.

You were propped up in bed when Paige came in, your face glowing in the light from the TV. A rerun of Chopped was on low volume, the judges arguing about undercooked scallops. You looked over as she entered, your expression instantly softening.

“There’s my superstar,” you teased.

Paige’s face cracked into a tired grin. She kicked off her hoodie and jeans and climbed into bed beside you, settling against the pillows with a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired I think my bones are asleep.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. “You handled that media circuit like a champ. I saw the clips.”

She groaned, turning her face into your neck. “So many questions. And they all ask the same thing. ‘What are you most excited about? How does it feel to be in Dallas? Do you think you and Azzi are soulmates?’”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”

Paige leaned back and looked at you, laughing. “I’m not kidding. One of my teammates asked if Azzi and I are a thing. The whole table went quiet like it was the tea of the night.”

You couldn’t help your smirk. “And what did you say?”

“That she’s like my sister,” Paige said, deadpan. “But I guess people don’t expect me to be married to someone who isn’t also a Nike-sponsored hooper.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, they can keep wondering.”

Paige reached for your hand, lacing her fingers with yours. She toyed with your wedding ring. “I don’t really care what they think. I just hate not being able to say it out loud.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But here, with us… you don’t have to hide.”

A beat passed.

Then Paige looked toward the ceiling, her eyes fluttering shut. “Sometimes I just wanna scream it. ‘I’m married to the love of my life and we have the most amazing little girl and I’m not dating my best friend!’”

You laughed quietly, running your fingers through her hair. “You’re tired.”

She nodded into your chest. “I am. But happy tired.”

For a few minutes, you lay in silence, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Her breathing slowed. Her hand still clutched yours.

Then she whispered, “She was asleep when I checked in on her.”

“Was she curled up like a little croissant again?”

“No,” Paige said, grinning against your skin. “Starfish mode tonight. She’s dramatic, just like you.”

You chuckled, closing your eyes as Paige snuggled in closer, her voice barely a breath now. “Thanks for holding it down at home.”

“Always,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Now sleep. You’ve got a city to conquer tomorrow.”

And with your arms wrapped around her, the soft hum of the TV, and your daughter safe down the hall, Paige finally let go—of the noise, the questions, the pressure—and drifted off in the quiet comfort of home.

Saturdays had a different feel now.

In Connecticut, it used to mean quiet coffee runs and long naps between workouts. But now, in Dallas, Saturdays were noisy. Messy. Beautiful. They started with sticky pancake fingers, early cartoons, and your daughter toddling around the kitchen with one sock on, yelling that she was a “big girl” and didn’t need a bib.

You and Paige had decided early on that today was just for the three of you. No media. No workouts. No press. Just a family day under the sun.

And so you found yourselves at a park, right in the middle of downtown Dallas. It was a bright, cloudless day. Families filled the green spaces, music echoed from a nearby jazz trio, and the food trucks lined up like a mini festival.

Your daughter, Emma—two and a half years old and already a firecracker—clung to Paige’s hand like she was leading a grand expedition across the grass.

“Where are we going, baby?” Paige asked, her sunglasses perched on her head, her other hand holding your iced lemonade.

“To da dogs!” Emma shouted, pointing at the off-leash area where a dozen bouncing golden retrievers played in a chaotic fur ball.

Paige gasped dramatically. “THE DOGS? Why didn’t you say so sooner?!”

She scooped Em into her arms, spinning her in a wide circle that sent squeals of laughter into the breeze.

You followed behind, grinning like a lovestruck idiot, because no matter how many times you saw Paige with your daughter, it never got old.

After the dogs (which Em referred to as “her friends”), you found a shaded bench by the splash pad. Shoes were off. Chubby toddler legs were kicking water in all directions. Paige sat cross-legged on the concrete beside her, letting the spray hit her jeans, not caring one bit.

“Okay, okay,” Paige said, pointing at a tiny spout, “if I put my hand here, will it spray me in the face?”

Your daughter nodded, wild-eyed. “Yes! Do it! Do it!”

Paige pretended to consider. “I dunno… seems risky.”

“Do it, Mama! Be brave!”

You watched from the bench, barely holding back a laugh as Paige gave in with theatrical flair. She slapped her palm on the stream and—true to your daughter’s prediction—it shot directly into her face.

Both of them screamed.

Your daughter collapsed into giggles, falling back into your lap as Paige wiped her face and feigned betrayal.

“I trusted you!” she cried.

“I sorry,” your daughter said through giggles, not sorry at all.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a tiny little prankster, that’s what you are.”

She pounced, grabbing your daughter from your arms and tickling her belly until the poor girl was a breathless, wriggling mess.

Later, after lunch from a taco truck and ice cream melting faster than you could eat it, the three of you laid on a picnic blanket near the edge of the park. Paige was on her back, your daughter curled up on her chest, slowly blinking up at the blue sky. She was coming down from her sugar high, hair damp from the water, eyelids fluttering.

You leaned over, resting your head on Paige’s shoulder.

“Tired?” you asked.

“Like, I’d-rather-get-run-over-by-a-scooter-than-move tired,” Paige whispered back. “But this is the happiest I’ve been in… I don’t even know how long.”

You looked down at your daughter’s little hand resting on Paige’s shirt, her tiny thumb unconsciously stroking Paige’s collarbone. Paige didn’t even seem to notice—she was so used to the closeness now.

“She loves you so much,” you said, your voice quiet.

Paige turned her head to look at you. “I’d give her the moon if she asked.”

You smiled, and she kissed you softly, the kind of kiss that didn’t need fireworks or urgency—just comfort and presence. Just love.

The sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the buildings. You started packing up while Paige stayed sprawled out on the blanket, your daughter now fully asleep, mouth slightly open, cheek pressed to Paige’s chest.

As you folded up the corner of the blanket, Paige looked up at you, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think they’ll ever get used to this?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The world. The media. Everyone who thinks I should be with Azzi or still single. Everyone who can’t imagine I’d choose this—quiet Saturdays and sippy cups over spotlight interviews.”

You met her gaze and smiled softly. “They don’t have to understand it. You just have to live it.”

Paige looked down at the little bundle on her chest, then back at you. “I’m living it. And it’s perfect.”

By the time you made it back to the car, your daughter was groggy and muttering something about needing her stuffed puppy. Paige kissed her forehead, promised they’d find it when they got home, then strapped her gently into the car seat.

As she closed the door, you caught her hand.

“Hey,” you murmured, tugging her in.

She stepped into you easily, wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Thank you,” you whispered against her temple.

“For what?” she asked.

“For being this. For loving us like this.”

Paige tilted her head, brushing her lips across your jaw. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

And with your daughter softly snoring in the backseat, the air still warm with sun and laughter, you believed her with your whole heart.

Sundays in Dallas were slower, warmer in every way. The city was quieter. Even the breeze felt lazy, like it didn’t have anywhere to be. Today, you and Paige had taken your daughter to the Dallas Farmers Market — your favorite spot for fresh fruit, wandering stalls, and letting your toddler explore the world in her little denim overalls and butterfly sneakers.

She held Paige’s hand as she toddled toward a booth selling homemade soaps, squealing about the ones shaped like ducks. Paige, with her signature cap pulled low and sunglasses on, nodded along like this was a very important duck decision.

You were laughing, sipping your coffee, when it happened.

“Wait… hold up.”

You turned toward the voice just as Paige froze.

Two figures stood by a booth across the path. Tall, athletic, and unmistakable even out of uniform. Dijonai Carrington and NaLyssa Smith.

“PAIGE?” Dijonai called, her eyebrows practically hitting her hairline. “Is that you?”

Paige straightened slowly, adjusting her hat like it might help her hide in plain sight. “Heyyyy... guys.”

NaLyssa squinted. “Are you holding hands with a baby?”

You tried not to laugh, especially as Paige’s eyes flicked to you with a silent help me.

“She’s a toddler, actually,” you said, stepping up and offering a warm smile. “And yes. That’s our daughter.”

Dijonai’s jaw dropped so fast you swore you heard it.

“OUR?!”

Your daughter looked up at the sound and instantly broke into a grin. “Mama!” she shouted, lifting both arms toward Paige. Paige scooped her up with practiced ease.

NaLyssa blinked. “Mama?!”

“Okay, okay,” Paige laughed, already blushing. “Let me explain.”

After the initial shock wore off—and after your daughter insisted on showing them her duck soap and a sticker she got from a face painting booth—you all decided to hang out the rest of the day.

The five of you ended up grabbing Thai food from a food stand and sprawling out at a nearby park on the grass. The energy was light, Emma chasing butterflies and occasionally tripping into Paige’s lap, then laughing like it was the best thing ever.

NaLyssa took to her like an auntie in five seconds flat, giving her piggyback rides while Dijonai tried (and failed) to braid her curly hair.

By the time the sun started dipping low, you looked at Paige and smiled. “We should invite them over.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. They’re not gonna let this go without the full story anyway.”

That evening, with your daughter finally asleep upstairs—curled in her bed with her stuffed puppy tucked under one arm—you all lounged in your cozy living room. The lights were dimmed, music soft in the background, a couple candles flickering on the coffee table.

You poured glasses of wine, passing them around before curling up next to Paige on the couch. She stretched her arm around you, fingers gently tracing your shoulder as you sipped.

“Alright,” Dijonai said, settling into the beanbag like she owned it. “Spill. We need the entire story. Like… Paige Bueckers has a family. Who would’ve guessed?”

Paige smiled, leaning into you a little. “It’s not as dramatic as you think.”

You nudged her playfully. “Kinda is.”

NaLyssa raised her glass. “Let’s hear it.”

You glanced at Paige, who gave you the go-ahead. So you started.

“Well… we met at UConn. I wasn’t a player—I was studying sports medicine and doing photography for the women’s basketball program.”

“She had a camera in her hand every time I looked up from the court,” Paige added with a soft laugh.

“I got pregnant right around the start of my second year, basketball season was just beginning,” you said, tone quieting a little. “It was… unplanned. The baby daddy didn’t stick around.”

Dijonai’s smile dropped. “Damn. That sucks.”

You nodded. “Yeah. It was rough. But Paige… she just showed up. Not all at once. Just… little things. Bringing me food. Walking me back to my dorm when my ankles were too swollen. Sitting with me during appointments when I couldn’t reach my mom.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Paige said. “But I knew I wanted to help her. I wanted to be around.”

“And then one day, she showed up with a crib she built herself,” you continued, laughing softly. “Badly built, by the way.”

“Hey!” Paige protested. “That thing held perfectly until month six.”

NaLyssa giggled. “So when did it… become more than friendship?”

You looked at Paige, your eyes softening.

“It was slow,” you said. “But honest. I think I loved her before I realized I did. Before I even knew I was allowed to.”

“I fell first,” Paige admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “But I waited until she was ready. I wasn’t going to push it.”

You looked down at your wine, smiling. “And by the time our daughter was born, it was just… obvious. She was already her mama. Her name deserved to be on the birth certificate. We got married shortly after Emma was born. No doubts whatsoever.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Dijonai let out a long whistle. “So I guess the ‘Pazzi’ rumors are just rumors, huh?”

Paige burst out laughing. “Yeah. Definitely. Azzi’s actually Emma’s godmother.”

NaLyssa choked on her wine. “What?! Y’all are out here playing chess while the whole internet’s writing fanfics!”

“Yeah,” Paige smirked. “And I read some of them. Wild stuff.”

You gasped. “Paige!”

“What?” she grinned. “Some of ‘em are kinda flattering.”

Dijonai shook her head, laughing. “I love this. I can’t wait to see the look on people’s faces when they find out.”

You looked at Paige, her cheeks flushed with wine and happiness, and smiled. “We’re not rushing that. But it’s nice to finally share it with someone.”

She leaned over and kissed you softly, letting her hand drift over your thigh. “Yeah. Feels good.”

NaLyssa raised her glass again. “To chosen family. And duck soap. And a little girl with the coolest moms in Texas.”

You all clinked glasses.

And in that living room—warm with love, filled with quiet laughter and soft confessions—you realized just how full your life had become.

Not just because of what you had with Paige.

But because of everything you’d built together.

The morning started with pancakes and cartoons, as it usually did. Paige had an early shoot around, but it was her first open-practice session with the team since the season officially kicked off — and she insisted on making it a family affair.

“You sure they won’t mind?” you asked as you buttoned your daughter’s little Wings jersey, the one with Bueckers on the back and “#5” in glitter iron-on patches.

Paige gave you a look like you’d just asked if basketballs were round. “They’ll love it. Trust me — they’re already obsessed with her and they haven’t even met her yet.”

You raised a brow. “They’re gonna be obsessed with me too, right?”

Paige leaned in, kissed you softly, and murmured against your lips, “I already am.”

The College Park Center buzzed with energy when you arrived. The team was mid-practice, music bumping through the speakers, sneakers squeaking across the court. Trainers and staff bustled around, but when Paige jogged in with you and your daughter in tow, heads turned.

A few players paused their drills, doing double takes.

“Is that…?”

“Oh my god, she’s here!”

NaLyssa was the first to run over, already beaming. “Hey! My favorite tiny human!” she called, bending down with arms open.

Your daughter squealed and took off across the hardwood — all bouncing curls and flashing sneakers — throwing herself into NaLyssa’s arms.

“You see that?” Paige said proudly, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Star player in the making.”

“You mean star recruiter,” you teased. “She’s already got the team wrapped around her finger.”

Practice paused for a bit — not because it was scheduled to, but because your daughter had singlehandedly hijacked the gym.

Maddy Siegrist taught her how to spin a ball on her finger (badly), and Teaira McCowan gave her piggyback rides down the sideline. Arike pretended to “lose” to her in a 1-on-1 dribble showdown, flopping dramatically every time your daughter drove the ball (slowly pushed it across the court while making car sounds).

Paige, watching from the bench with you tucked under her arm, just smiled like her whole world was right there on that hardwood.

When Coach Chris Koclanes walked over, hands on his hips, you tensed — but the coach just looked at Paige’s daughter, then at you, and broke into a warm grin.

“So,” he said, “this is the little MVP we’ve been hearing about?”

“She’s the real star of the family,” you replied.

Coach nodded sagely. “Well, we’ve got open tryouts in 2042.”

Later, after a water break and some light drills, the team settled into a shooting competition, and Paige brought your daughter onto the court with her.

“Alright, baby girl,” Paige said, handing her a mini basketball, “show ‘em how we do it at home.”

Your daughter squinted at the toddler-sized hoop they’d rolled out, took three steps back, and chucked the ball with everything she had.

It bounced off the rim, hit the floor, and rolled to NaLyssa’s feet.

And everyone still cheered like she just hit a buzzer-beater in the Finals.

“She’s got that dog in her!” NaLyssa yelled.

“Sign her now!” Dijonai called from the baseline.

Emma spun around, arms high in the air, and shouted, “I WIN!”

The team exploded in laughter and applause, and Paige scooped her up and spun her around.

“You always win,” she whispered, kissing her cheek. “Always.”

Practice wrapped up with team stretches, and your daughter sat in Paige’s lap, mimicking every move with a dramatic flair that had half the players in tears from laughing.

You took a few pictures — one of Paige mid-stretch with her daughter copying her pose, both of them giggling, sweat-slick and sunlit under the gym lights. Another of the whole team posing around your daughter like she was their mascot.

By the time you were heading out, your daughter’s head rested sleepily on Paige’s shoulder, a little snack in one hand and her other thumb tucked in her mouth.

“She did great,” you whispered.

“So did I,” Paige murmured back with a grin. “I was so nervous.”

You looked up at her. “About what?”

“Bringing my world together,” she said. “You, her… them. I just didn’t want it to feel weird. Or too much.”

You kissed her gently on the temple. “You didn’t bring your world together, Paige. You built one. And we’re all lucky to be part of it.”

Paige glanced down at your daughter, kissed the side of her head, then looked at you like she couldn’t believe she’d gotten this lucky.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered. “I’ve got my whole team right here.”

The next morning, you were still in pajamas, your daughter sitting in her high chair absolutely covered in oatmeal, when Paige’s phone started blowing up.

She frowned at it, brushing oatmeal off her hoodie as she picked it up. “Uh… babe?”

You looked up from your coffee. “Hmm?”

“I think… I think we just went viral.”

You raised a brow. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

Dallas Wings – Instagram (@/dallaswings) [“Golden” – Harry Styles] “The Bueckers Era has officially begun 💙💚”

The video opened with Paige walking into the practice facility holding your daughter’s hand — her tiny legs moving double-time to keep up, her jersey bouncing as she walked.

Cut to:

Paige tying her daughter’s shoes on the bench

A shot of you sitting court side with your camera in hand, smiling at them

Your daughter making a shot in the toddler hoop and doing a victory dance as the team erupts

Paige picking her up and spinning her in the air, both of them laughing

Finally, a close-up of your daughter asleep on Paige’s chest during cool-down, Paige’s hand protectively over her back

And then…

Overlay text at the end: “Family.”

The comments? Unhinged.

@/wnbastan69: wait... PAIGE IS A MOM???

@/wingsnation: WHO IS THAT WOMAN ON THE BENCH. SHE'S GORGEOUS. IS THAT HER WIFE???

@/bucketsqueen: this is not a drill. paige bueckers is a MILF. i repeat—

@/azzistan: I KNEW she wasn’t with Azzi. THE BABY IS CALLING HER MAMA.

@/uconnfan1 ok. hear me out. that woman has a tattoo of Paige’s number on her arm. go back to the February UConn Gala photos. it's her. they've been together.

The TikTok version? Hit 1.2 million views in three hours.

And your DMs? Albeit being private. Piling up with everything from “CONGRATS OMG” to “how did you pull her???” to “tell us your love story pls pls pls.”

You just turned your phone over and looked at Paige, who was feeding your daughter a blueberry while trying not to panic.

“Well,” you said, sipping your coffee. “Hard launch.”

That night, the Wings media team reached out about doing a feature for their upcoming mini docuseries, “Inside the Paint.” Paige hesitated, but you looked at her and said:

“If we’re gonna tell it… let’s tell it right.”

You, Paige, and your daughter sat side-by-side on the couch in your home, camera crew set up across from you.

“She’s my whole heart,” Paige said, glancing at Emma who was now climbing into her lap with a granola bar. “She’s not technically mine. But she is.”

You nodded. “We met at UConn. I was pregnant — alone. Paige was just… Paige. Gentle. Always there.”

The camera caught Paige’s hand finding yours.

“She helped raise her. Changed diapers. Did midnight feeds. Built cribs badly,” you teased.

“She was the first person who made me feel like I wasn’t alone in it,” you continued. “And somewhere along the way, we just… fell in love.”

“My name’s on the birth certificate,” Paige added softly. “And my last name’s on both of theirs now.”

“Mama was all she knew Paige to be.”

The crew filmed the bookshelf with framed family photos. Paige carrying your daughter on her shoulders at the beach. You three asleep on the couch in a tangle of limbs. A picture of Azzi Fudd holding your daughter at her baptism with tears in her eyes.

“She’s the godmother,” Paige confirmed, grinning. “Azzi. The real MVP.”

The episode dropped on YouTube and Instagram the following weekend. And in under 24 hours, it was the top trending topic on WNBA Twitter and TikTok.

The reactions? A mix of sobbing emojis, fan art of your little family, and people just melting over how soft Paige was the whole time.

@/bballdreams: I thought I couldn’t love Paige Bueckers more. And then she became a wife and a mom. I’m DONE.

@/fanbrushfire: [art of Paige in uniform holding your daughter’s hand, with you in the background cheering them on] “Mama Bueckers”

@/sidelineheart: Paige Bueckers being a quiet, private wife and mother and then casually dropping the most beautiful love story I’ve ever heard?? How is this real??

That night, curled up with Paige on the couch, your daughter asleep upstairs, you scrolled through the chaos while Paige played with your fingers.

“You okay with it?” she asked softly.

You nodded. “I’m glad it’s out there. You deserved to be known like this.”

She kissed your temple. “We deserved to be known.”

The Wings had just pulled off a thrilling win against the Mercury. Paige had dropped 19 with 8 assists, but the real surprise came postgame.

As the buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted, the arena lights dimmed for the usual fan-appreciation wrap-up — but then the Jumbotron lit up with something unexpected.

“Special Presentation” — the screen read, flashing between highlights of the game and a video montage.

Your daughter appeared on-screen, wearing an oversized Wings hoodie, shyly grinning.

“Hi Mama,” her tiny voice said, echoing across the arena. “I proud of you. You my favorite player ever and ever. Can I give hug now?”

The arena melted.

Paige turned, stunned, and saw you at the tunnel — holding your daughter, her eyes bright and excited.

The crowd parted like the sea as the two of you walked onto the court. Your daughter wriggled out of your arms and ran straight to Paige, who dropped to her knees to catch her.

The ovation was deafening.

Tears welled in Paige’s eyes as she kissed her daughter’s cheek, holding her tightly, forehead resting against her tiny one.

The announcer laughed through the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen… the real MVP of the night.”

@/espnW: Paige Bueckers just got surprised on court by her wife and daughter after the Wings win. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. 🥹💙

@/wnbatalk: “Can I give hug now?” I’m SOBBING. Who raised that little angel?!

@/courtsidechronicles: Paige crying while hugging her daughter, then looking at her wife like she hung the moon? Love is so real.

@/fanartfridays: [Art of the three of you walking off the court hand-in-hand, with the Wings logo glowing behind you.] “The Heart of Dallas.”

You tucked your daughter into bed, her plush Wings blanket pulled up to her chin. Paige leaned down and whispered, “You were so brave today, baby. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mama,” she mumbled, already drifting.

You walked back downstairs together, hand in hand.

On the couch, Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind, chin on your shoulder.

“I think they really know us now,” she murmured.

You tilted your head toward her. “They do.”

“And they love her,” she added, a proud smile blooming across her face.

“She’s impossible not to love,” you whispered. “Just like her mom.”

Paige kissed your cheek and pulled you closer, the glow of the moment still radiating through every room of your home.

“Thank you,” she said. “For letting me have this life.”

You turned in her arms, looked into her eyes, and smiled.

“We built this life together. And the best part? We’re just getting started.”

The WNBA season had hit its brief midseason break, and for the first time in months, the house was quiet. You were curled up on the couch flipping through a book while Paige lay on the floor with Em lying across her chest, both completely still except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Paige’s breathing.

Then Paige’s phone buzzed from the coffee table.

She carefully reached for it, glancing at the screen without disturbing the sleepy toddler snuggled into her.

Azzi: I swear to God if I don’t see my goddaughter in person soon I will riot

Paige smiled and nudged you with her foot. “Guess who’s demanding visitation rights.”

You looked up, already grinning. “Azzi?”

She showed you the screen and you snorted. “She’s obsessed. But, fair. You know we’ve been meaning to visit.”

Paige’s voice dropped to a softer tone as she looked down at the little girl sleeping peacefully on her chest. “I think it’s time we go back. Just for a few days.”

“Back to where it all started?” you asked.

Paige met your eyes, voice thick with nostalgia. “Back home.”

just ate up all those tags when you could be writing it yourself...

there are so many 6k, 10k, hell even 20k that suck at the build-up for the MOST mediocre smut.

there are many blogs that are all fluff no smut strictly, instead of eating up tags, you could ask for recs.

what is with this new wave of short ass drabbles with porn and zero plot what happened to yearning?? what happened to build up?? what happened to the character being absolutely down bad for reader?? what happened to the 10k words fics?? screaming crying and throwing up i miss it