I'm About To Put My Fat Ass On That Paint

mf icon🔥🔥 i love paige bueckers

she's gonna be a hometown hero everywhere

Doesn’t…. Doesn’t most of the fandom fantasize over ‘teenagers’? (Particularly Chase?)

Does most of the fandom try to unmix their DNA to make their weird fucking ships work...okay then

roman reigns being a trump supporter literally made my coochie dry up so quickly like omg now he ugly af with thick ass veneers

If you don’t believe that Bre is dead then go murder her you dumb bitch.

Hot girls don't murder people🦭

and if I start viciously sobbing🧍🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

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😭

YOUR SOURCES ARE GARBAGE. YOU ARE GARBAGE

LMAO

Your the one with a nasty ass and a bunch of stds. Bre only reacted to what you die.

Bre stfu you dumb bitch, you wish I was as dirty as you are. I don't open my legs for dirty men like you do. I'm not a white trash pig. You reacted like a child and only continued to do so. No employer would support worker of this nature. If you wanna keep your family in that infested hotel and your cat feed, I suggest you get the fuck out of my anons💕

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.