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aphroditsdaughter · 14 hours ago

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Guilty as sin

what if she’s written “mine” on my upper thigh but not only in my mind

paige bueckers x OC

pretty heavy stuff don’t read if you’re under 18 or do im not responsible for your media consumption (all the photos and graphics are from pinterest and belong to their original creators)

also a huge congrats to the uconn huskies for bringing the 12th one back home!!

Truth is, this was never meant to happen. She was never meant to happen. The plan was simple, go to college, earn a degree you weren’t even sure you loved, find a nice husband along the way, and settle down by 26. A life laid out in careful steps, a future stitched together by your mother’s thread and needle.

But Paige Bueckers, point guard for The Dallas Wings, was never part of the blueprint.

And yet, here she is. Half-draped across your body, skin warm against yours, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm. Her breath is soft against your neck, whispering promises that feel like lullabies, like confessions, like something dangerously close to forever.

And you, caught between the life you planned and the one unfolding right in front of you, don’t know whether to hold on or let go.

“Promise me you’ll leave him,” I whisper, my lips trailing down the curve of her jaw, grazing the delicate skin beneath her ear, descending toward the hollow of her collarbone where her breath stutters.

Silence.

“Promise me, Pia,” I say again, the words trembling between desperation and demand.

Her breath catches. Then, finally, through a shiver that sounds like surrender, she whispers,“I promise.” Her voice is a threadbare thing, trembling and unconvincing, but it pulls me in anyway.

I rise to meet her gaze, searching for truth in the depths of her eyes. They’re are glassy, deep pools of something I can’t quite name. Longing? Guilt? Deception? I don’t know, But the truth hides from me. I want to believe her God, I want to believe her. That this time, she’ll choose not just me, but herself. That this time, she’ll finally break free.

“What?”

“Tomorrow morning. You’ll leave him,” I say. The words come out firmer than I intended, more demand than plea.

No question in it. just a quiet ultimatum.

Her expression flickers, something unreadable passing over her face. And then silence again.

She starting at me now her eyes narrowing like I’m the one who’s lost my mind, like I’m the one slipping. Maybe I am.

“I will,” she says, and pulls me back into her mouth like a drowning woman clutching air.

Her lips are feverish against mine, igniting something reckless and raw in me. I know she’s lying. Of course she’s lying. But I’m too far gone, too tangled in her spell to care. I hate how easily I fall for her again and again, crawling back to her like a dog who doesn’t know better.

She’s unbuttoning my shirt now, her fingers deliberate and maddeningly slow. Her lips travel downward, planting delicate, burning kisses along my stomach, her touch a fire that consumes me.

I’m kissing her abs slow, reverent, like each press of my lips might absolve me. But it doesn’t. The knot tightens in my stomach, familiar and bitter, like a warning I’ve learned to ignore. That sick ache of knowing I can’t leave him. Not now. Not ever.

What am I doing?

Another empty promise slips from my mouth, like all the others. I said the same thing four years ago. Then again two years later. Each time with the same trembling voice. Each time with the same lie. And still, she takes me back.

Now she’s watching me, eyes wide open, seeing through every brittle mask I wear. She knows I’m full of shit. But she stays anyway. God, why does she always stay?

I move up, my lips tracing a path along her ribs, then her chest, until I’m hovering above her, so close to kissing her again. But something guilt or clarity or fear stops me. My body stills. My breath catches.

I shouldn’t do this.

I’m a married woman. I’ve made vows, signed papers, built a life with another. What am I doing here, on top of her, heart pounding like I’m nineteen and reckless again?

“Stop thinking about him,” Paige says, her voice soft, firm, desperate.

“I’m right here. Just stop. Please, let go, Pia.”

Let go.

I shouldn’t.

But I do.

My forehead falls against hers. Her hands cradle my face like I’m something fragile, worth protecting. Her thumb brushes my cheek slow, loving and then she leans back just enough to look me in the eyes.

“It’s just me and you,” she whispers. “Tomorrow he’ll be gone. And it’s gonna be me and you. Forever.”

But it’s not going to be. Not really.

Because I’m a liar.

Because I’m a coward.

Because I’m a horrible person wearing a woman’s skin.

But I don’t say any of that.

Her lips are soft, but the kiss is anything but gentle. It’s hungry. Urgent. Like we’re trying to consume the years we lost the years I wasted. She pulls me down onto her, fingers already tangled in the hem of my shirt. She lifts it, peeling it over my head like she’s done a hundred times before, like second nature.

"You feel so fucking good," she murmurs, breath hot against my neck as she kisses the curve where it meets my shoulder. Her hands are everywhere my waist, my hips, my back—like she’s afraid I’ll disappear again.

Her lips press against my skin, and I can feel the weight of her presence, possessive and commanding. She sits up, straddling my waist, her body flushed and glowing in the low light. Her hair is a mess, her lips swollen, eyes heavy with want. She looks like sin and salvation all at once, and I can’t look away.

Her hands roam over me, tracing the curve of my body with deliberate slowness, like she’s trying to memorize every inch of me, like I might vanish if she doesn’t hold me tight enough.

Her eyes glimmer dark, knowing, like she can see all my secrets, like she knows exactly what she wants. And right now, that’s me.

"Tell me. Does he know what to do with you? Does he know what makes you feel good?" she whispers, her voice a velvet threat.

I can’t lie to her. I can’t look away from those eyes, burning with jealousy and lust, wanting me in a way I haven’t seen in years. Her touch is electric, a sharp contrast to the dull, distant touch of him.

"Not like you," I breathe, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

And then, without warning, she flips me onto my back effortlessly, her hands sliding down my sides as she pins me beneath her. There’s something in the way she looks at me possessive, confident. I can see the hunger, but also the satisfaction. She’s always wanted this control power, and me, completely at her mercy.

"You always were such a fucking tease," she murmurs, her lips curling into a smirk as she hovers above me. "I've been waiting for this, you know. For you to finally get out of your head long enough to give in."

I bite my lip, the tension thick between us, and my heart races with anticipation. Paige isn’t gentle—she never has been. And that’s exactly why I’ve never been able to walk away. She knows me too well. She knows how to make me lose myself.

She leans down, pressing a kiss to the hollow of my throat, then another lower, over my collarbone. Her teeth graze my skin, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. reminding me who really owns me. I gasp, hands reaching for her, but she swats them away, pinning them to the bed with one strong hand.

"No, no touching," she commands, her voice thick with authority. "Not unless I say so."

I moan softly in protest, but it’s more out of frustration than anything. I want to touch her. I want to feel the heat of her skin beneath my fingertips, but she’s not giving me that. Not yet.

"Shh, just relax," she coos, her breath hot against my ear. "Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good like he never has."

She moves lower, her body following the curve of mine as her tongue flicks out, warm and slow, trailing kisses across my chest. When her lips wrap around my nipple, I gasp—a sharp, involuntary sound that makes her hum against me.

Her fingers slide down my stomach, so slow, so deliberate that I’m practically aching from the anticipation. She looks up at me, eyes gleaming, a cocky smirk tugging at her lips.

"I’m gonna make you scream my name, Pia," she says, her voice low, daring. "And you’re gonna love it."

I shiver, my pulse quickening as she slides down further, her hands brushing against my thighs, her lips leaving a trail of fire behind them. I’m helpless beneath her, body already responding to her every movement. When she finally reaches between my legs, she doesn’t hesitate. She slips two fingers inside me, pushing in with smooth, relentless precision.

"Paige..." I gasp, a sharp cry escaping my lips.

Paige doesn’t waste any time. She starts to move her fingers in and out of me, deep and slow at first, letting the pleasure build. My hips instinctively lift to meet her, but she pulls back, her grip on my waist tightening to hold me still.

"Not so fast," she warns, her tone mocking, filled with dark satisfaction. "Remember how long you left me hanging?"

I whimper, my body aching for more, but she just smirks, knowing exactly how to torture me. She continues her slow pace, fingers curling inside me, hitting that spot that makes my whole body tremble. The pleasure starts to build, but she’s taking her sweet time, pushing me to the edge but not letting me fall.

She chuckles darkly, her thumb circling my clit with a wickedly slow, teasing rhythm.

"Please what?" she taunts, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Tell me what you want, Pia."

"Faster," I beg, my voice breathless, desperate. "I need you to... oh god, please—"

"Need me to what?" she presses, her fingers quickening now, but not enough to let me unravel just yet. "Use your words, baby."

"Please..." I beg again, my voice a whisper, desperate and needy. "Paige, please, faster."

"Make me come, Paige. Please..." My plea breaks in half, the words coming out in a fractured rush.

Her eyes lock onto mine, her smirk never fading. "That’s my girl."

My girl

Her pace quickens, fingers thrusting deeper, her thumb never ceasing its rhythm on my clit. She’s relentless, her pace unyielding, pushing me closer to the edge with every stroke. I can't hold back anymore. My back arches off the bed, and my body trembles violently as the orgasm hits me hard. Waves of pleasure crash over me, pulling the air from my lungs and making me gasp.

"Fuck!" I cry out, my hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white. "Paige..."

She doesn’t stop. Even as I tremble beneath her, she keeps going, prolonging my orgasm, pulling every last bit of pleasure out of me until I’m gasping for air, my body convulsing beneath her.

When she finally slows down, she watches me with satisfaction, a smug grin curling at her lips.

"Told you I could make you scream."

I’m left breathless, skin still tingling, my mind barely able to catch up with the aftermath of what just happened. Paige leans down, kissing me deeply, almost possessively, as if claiming me all over again. Her hands are on my hips, her body pressed against mine, and I can feel how much control she has over me how much she loves it.

"I can’t believe he gets to see you like this," she whispers, her voice thick with lust and satisfaction. "Fuck pia Do you know how insane that makes me?”

"I’m not done with you," she adds, her voice still low, laden with desire. "Not even close."

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