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vamptizm · 3 months ago

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hotel — p. bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x notre dame! reader (+ slight olivia miles x reader)

synopsis : after a win against uconn, you find yourself caught in a tug-of-war between your on and off ex and one of your biggest rivals, who you simply can’t stay away from no matter how hard you try.

warnings : do NOT read or interact with this if uncomfortable, i beg that u just block me. smut with a sprinkle of plot. oral r!receiving. strap r!receiving. praise. hint of size kink. slight breeding kink. squirting. toxic reader x paige. toxic reader x olivia. hannah hidalgo. allusions to homophobia. lmk if i forgot anything.

word count : 8k

note : this wasn’t meant to be a 1k special butttt since i hit that yesterday, why not? (thank u sm btw ily) this is probably the filthiest and most time consuming shit i’ve ever written and some parts are a bit messy so i apologize. i’m VERYYY new to writing smut pls go easy on me.

The fourth quarter was winding down, and the air inside Joyce Center was electric. The roar of the home crowd thundered in your ears as you felt your pulse quicken. Notre Dame was already ahead, the scoreboard a glaring reminder of the 10 point deficit UConn couldn't seem to close. But even with victory all but secured, there was no room to let up. Not now.

You dribbled upcourt after catching the rebound Sonia passed your way, only to feel the clumsy pressure of UConn's freshman, Sarah, on your hip. Her hands reached in too aggressively, and the sharp sound of the whistle sliced through the tension. A foul.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you couldn't help but grin, though you kept your expression controlled. As you stepped up to the free-throw line, the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders. This was your chance to widen the gap and put the game even further out of reach.

You bounced the ball twice, breathing in deeply to steady yourself. But as you readied for the shot, you felt it—those piercing blue eyes on you, unwavering, cutting through the noise like a laser. You didn't have to look to know who they belonged to. Paige Bueckers. She was watching you the way a hawk watches its prey, and though you refused to meet her gaze, you could feel the intensity of it prickling at your skin.

The ball left your hands in a smooth arc, and the net snapped satisfyingly as it dropped through. One down. You bounced the ball again, shaking off the weight of her stare. When the second shot swished cleanly, the crowd's roar grew louder, and your team swarmed you with high-fives.

But you didn't let yourself celebrate. Not yet. There were still minutes left on the clock, and even with the lead, you knew better than to relax.

The game pressed on. Sarah missed a three-point attempt on UConn's next possession, and Olivia held the ball at the top of the arc, scanning the court with her signature calculating gaze. You hovered near the left wing, your focus trained on her movements, when Paige sidled up next to you, just close enough that her voice could cut through the noise.

"Bet you feel real good about yourself, huh?" she murmured, her tone sharp enough to slice through the roaring crowd.

You didn't flinch, didn't even look at her. Instead, you let a small, sarcastic smile curve your lips, keeping your eyes on the ball as Olivia dribbled. "For beating your ass? Guess so. Not that big of an accomplishment."

Paige scoffed, the sound low and unimpressed. "Cute." Her grin mirrored yours, though hers was sharper, more cutting. You could feel her ego bruising beneath the surface, but she hid it well.

It was a moment of mutual irritation, of subtle jabs disguised as casual banter, and you could feel the tension humming between you like a live wire. It wasn't new, this rivalry, this constant push-and-pull. Paige had a way of getting under your skin, but you weren't about to let her know that. Not tonight.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Olivia's gaze snapping to the two of you. Her brown eyes were narrowed, her jaw tight as she watched the interaction unfold. She didn't like it. She didn't like Paige standing so close to you, speaking to you like that, her body angled in a way that felt too familiar, too charged.

Paige noticed it too. Of course, she did. Her smirk deepened as she leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur that only you could hear. "Your girl doesn't look too happy about me talking to you. Think she's scared I'll fuck you better again?"

Your breath caught, and your head snapped toward her instinctively, your eyes locking with hers. That smirk—infuriating and self-assured—was still plastered across her face. It was as if she was daring you to react, to say something that would prove she'd struck a nerve.

The brief glance you gave Paige was all it took for Olivia to lose focus. Her frustration boiled over, visible in the way her movements became jerky and imprecise. When she shifted her weight to drive toward the basket, the ref's whistle blew again—this time for a travel.

The ball left Olivia's hands too late, sailing toward the rim and missing entirely, and the crowd erupted in jeers. She looked furious, her glare bouncing between you and Paige as if you were both to blame.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Guess she's not handling the pressure too well." Her voice was smug, dripping with satisfaction.

You wanted to fire back, to wipe that cocky grin off her face, but the tension in Olivia's eyes stopped you. There was too much at stake—on the court, off the court. So, you swallowed your retort, turning your attention back to the game.

But even as play resumed, you couldn't shake the weight of Paige's words or the way her presence lingered like an itch you couldn't scratch. She might have been your rival, but in moments like those, she felt like so much more.

And that was a problem.

The ball was in play again, and UConn wasn't ready to give up just yet, even as the seconds dwindled down. Sarah got the inbound pass, quickly tossing it over to Kaitlyn, who barely held on under the Irish defense. Kaitlyn, in turn, sent the ball to Paige.

You watched as Paige, ever-calculated, tried to weave through defenders with her signature finesse. Her focus was sharp, every movement deliberate, but as she went up for the shot, Olivia was there, her body colliding with Paige's in a hard foul. The whistle blew, sharp and decisive.

Paige stumbled slightly but steadied herself, exhaling through her nose as she stepped toward the free-throw line. And that's when Olivia brushed past her, her voice low but unmistakably venomous. "Back off."

It wasn't clear if the ref heard it, but Paige definitely did. Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but she kept her composure, though you could tell she was simmering beneath the surface. She wanted to laugh—mockingly, sharply, just enough to dig under Olivia's skin—but instead, she shook her head in amusement, her voice calm and cutting as she shot back, "Not my fault she loves it over here."

The words were quiet, not loud enough to be picked up by the cameras or refs, but the way Olivia's shoulders stiffened told you she heard them loud and clear. You could see her jaw clench, though she kept her expression neutral, refusing to let Paige's jab get the best of her.

As Paige prepared for her free throws, Olivia was already trying to argue with the ref, gesturing in frustration. You rolled your eyes subtly, but the irritation was clear. This wasn't new—Olivia's inability to let things go, her need to control every little aspect of the game (and sometimes, your life).

Paige took a deep breath, her hands steady as she dribbled the ball once, twice. She exhaled and let the first shot fly, the ball swishing cleanly through the net. Despite her calm exterior, you could tell the frustration and disappointment of the impending loss were bubbling under her surface. She glanced at you out of her peripheral vision for a split second before refocusing.

The second shot wasn't as lucky. It bounced off the rim, and before anyone else could react, Hannah Hidalgo snagged the rebound. She dribbled it out for the remaining 15 seconds, much to your annoyance.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again, but Hannah had a way of getting to you that no one else did. Ever since she joined the team, the 5'6 sophomore had been too loud, too comfortable in her narrow-minded opinions. It was no secret that the two of you didn't get along—especially after a handful of snide comments she'd made about your relationship with Olivia. Comments that weren't just about your incompatibility as a couple but targeted your sexuality with thinly veiled bigotry.

The buzzer sounded, and the tension in your chest released in a wave of satisfaction. You'd won. The Irish had defeated UConn, and the victory felt as sweet as ever. The team quickly swarmed each other, exchanging high-fives and celebratory shouts, but Olivia went straight to you, pulling you into your usual post-game hug.

This time, though, it was different. Her grip was tighter, her touch lingering in a way that felt less like a celebration and more like a claim. Her hand slid lower down your back than you were comfortable with, her gaze locking with Paige's as if daring her to look away.

It was possessive. It was unnecessary. And it was far too public.

You stiffened, your eyes narrowing as you subtly pulled away. "Don't do that in public again," you said firmly, your voice low enough that only she could hear. "Especially not now."

Olivia's jaw tensed, but she didn't argue. She let you go, and you moved to join the line as the teams lined up to shake hands.

The tension was palpable as Olivia and Paige met briefly in the line, their glares sharp and unyielding. No words were exchanged, but the animosity between them was unmistakable.

And then it was your turn. As you reached Paige, you could see the loss weighing on her. For all her bravado, it was clear she hated this, hated losing, hated being on the other side of your rivalry tonight. Her pride was bruised, but she held herself together.

"Good game," you said, forcing yourself to set aside your rivalry for the briefest moment.

Paige's lips quirked into a small, almost condescending smirk. "Yeah, good game, princess." Her tone was laced with her usual sharpness, but something in her eyes softened, just for a second.

The brief contact as you moved past each other sent a shiver down your spine, your skin buzzing at the memory of her hands on you the last time you'd hooked up. It shouldn't have affected you—not now, not here—but it did.

And as you walked off the court, you couldn't help but wonder if she felt it too.

A few hours had passed since the game, but the adrenaline still thrummed in your veins, mixing with the exhaustion that clung to your limbs. You had showered, changed into something comfortable, and spent the last hour staring at the ceiling, hoping sleep would come and erase the memory of what had happened earlier.

The fight with Olivia had been brief but sharp—words exchanged in hushed yet heated tones, the air between you tense with something unresolved. She had wanted to try again. You had told her you weren't sure and needed time to think, and she hadn't taken it well. It wasn't a screaming match, but it didn't need to be. The weight of it was enough to settle over your chest, pressing down like a brick.

So now, you lay on your bed, eyes closed, willing yourself into unconsciousness. But your mind wouldn't shut off.

Then, a sharp ding shattered the silence.

You sighed, exhaling through your nose as you reached for your phone, internally scolding yourself for not turning on Do Not Disturb. The glow of the screen cast light across your face as you blinked down at the notification.

Paige Bueckers: u sleeping?

Your heart stuttered for half a second. You had told yourself a while ago that you'd block her. That you should block her. But you never did. Something—something—always held you back.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard before you typed out a response.

You: no. can’t sleep.

You could've left it at a simple ‘no’, but you didn't.

Another ding. You barely had time to lock your phone before the next message popped up.

Paige Bueckers: i can help u with that mama

You inhaled sharply. Your grip on your phone tightened, hesitating for a second longer than you should have. You knew better. You always knew better. Getting involved with Paige—hooking up with Paige—was never a good idea.

And yet, your fingers moved before your brain could stop them.

You: send the address.

As soon as the message sent, you were up, already throwing a hoodie over your head and stepping into sweatpants. Your shoes went on next as you grabbed your keys.

You made it to the door before a voice broke the silence.

"Where are you going?"

You turned to see your roommate peering at you from her bed, brows furrowed in mild curiosity.

Your grip tightened around the doorknob. You thought for a second, then shrugged.

"I'ma go get laid. Don't wait up."

The car ride to the hotel was short. Too short for your taste.

Too short for you to think, to reason, to talk yourself out of this. Maybe if the drive had been longer, if you had even ten more minutes, you would have turned around. You would have gone back to your dorm, maybe even knocked on Olivia's door, tried to fix things in the morning like a rational person. But you didn't.

Instead, you found yourself standing in the elevator, your reflection staring back at you in the polished steel doors, wearing an expression you barely recognized.

Regret? Anticipation? Something in between?

It didn't matter. The damage was done.

You could still feel the receptionist's eyes on you as you'd walked through the lobby, her polite yet knowing smile burning into the back of your mind. It had been awkward, like she had somehow pieced together your entire life story just from the way you carried yourself. The way you had hesitated. The way your smile had felt forced, almost shameful.

Now, as you stood in front of the hotel room door—room 69, because of course Paige would pick that—you didn't find the irony so funny anymore.

You lifted your fist, knocked lightly against the wood, and took a slow inhale.

The door swung open almost instantly, as if she had been waiting right on the other side.

Paige stood before you, every inch of her revealed in slow, agonizing detail the wider the door opened.

Her blonde hair was down, slightly wavy from air-drying after her shower. You rarely saw it like this—only in pictures that would randomly pop up on your feed, a rare sight that always made you pause longer than you should. The game-day braids were gone, leaving her looking softer than usual. But there was nothing soft about the way she stood there now, leaning against the doorframe, her sharp blue eyes scanning you like she already knew what was going through your mind.

She was in a black Nike sports bra, her toned stomach on full display, a pair of loose gray UConn sweatpants slung low on her hips. Just low enough to reveal the waistband of her Calvin Klein boxers.

You swallowed.

The glasses were new. Purple frames perched on the bridge of her nose, somehow making her look even more unfairly attractive. You hated that about her. How effortless it all was. How she made every single thing—every little detail about herself—feel like it existed solely to mess with you.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Her voice was silky smooth, quiet, edged with something that made your skin prickle.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to look at anything but the infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. The way she stood there, relaxed, confident, like she knew you had already lost this battle before it even started.

And maybe you had.

You weren't sure what came over you. One second, you were standing in the doorway, debating every decision that had led you here. The next, you were walking inside, wordless, your body moving before your mind could stop it.

Paige stepped aside instinctively, closing the door behind you, and that was when it truly hit you.

The reality of what you were doing.

What you were about to do.

A shaky exhale left your lips. You tilted your head back for a second, staring at the ceiling, as if praying for something—anything—to pull you out of this. To stop you from ruining whatever restraint you had left.

But then you looked back at her.

At Paige, who was standing there, watching you with those eyes that had already picked you apart, dissected every thought racing through your head.

And just like that, you broke.

The space between you disappeared in an instant. You grabbed her, pulled her in, crashing your lips against hers like you had something to prove—like you were trying to drown out the part of yourself that was still screaming for you to stop.

Paige reacted immediately. Her hands were already on you, already pulling you in closer, as if she had been waiting for this, as if she had known all along that you would give in.

Her arms wrapped around your waist, strong and unyielding. Yours found their way around her neck, your fingers tangling into the soft waves of her hair, gripping onto something—anything—to keep yourself from completely losing control.

You were already lost.

And maybe you had been from the very start.

Paige's arms tightened around your waist, her grip firm, possessive. The warmth of her hands seeped through your sweatshirt, but it wasn't enough for her. She wanted more. Slowly, deliberately, she pushed the fabric upward, just enough to slide her hands underneath.

The difference was instant—her skin against yours, her palms warm and steady as they roamed over your sides. It sent a shiver up your spine, one she undoubtedly felt but didn't acknowledge. Instead, she just pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss, letting the taste of whatever candy she had been eating linger on your tongue.

What started out controlled, yet purposeful, quickly turned into something else.

Hotter. Messier.

Neither of you had moved from the door. There was no rush—just the slow, torturous unraveling of restraint with every passing second. Paige kissed you like she had something to prove, like she wanted to pull every last ounce of hesitation from your body and leave you with nothing but her.

It wasn't until your lungs burned for air that she finally pulled back, her lips slick and parted, her breathing uneven. Her hands never left your skin, but something about the way she looked at you made your stomach tighten.

You barely had time to process it before she reached up, pulling her glasses off and tossing them onto the couch nearby. Carelessly. Effortlessly. She never took her eyes off you, not even once.

And just as quickly as she had pulled away, she was dragging you back in.

Her hands gripped your waist as she kissed you harder, rougher, her body guiding yours backward without breaking contact. She moved with purpose, leading you step by step until the back of your knees hit the bed.

You gasped softly as you lost your balance, falling backward onto the mattress. Paige didn't waste time. The second you were down, she was on you, hands sliding to your sides, fingers pressing into your ribcage. With barely any effort, she lifted you, manhandling you further up the bed until your head nearly hit the pillows.

Your breath hitched.

You hadn't expected her to be this eager, this physical. But she was careful—controlled, even in her hunger.

Paige climbed onto the bed, hovering over you with that sharp, unrelenting gaze.

Her hands found the hem of your sweatshirt again, tugging at it slightly. "Can I take this off?" she asked, her voice even lower than before.

You nodded, surprised that she had even bothered to ask. Normally, she wouldn't need to. One look was all it ever took.

The blonde didn't waste time. In one swift motion, she pulled the sweatshirt up, dragging it over your head and arms as you arched your back to help. The cool air prickled against your heated skin, but the sensation barely registered before Paige was on you again.

Her lips found your neck, hot and open-mouthed, each kiss deliberate, each drag of her teeth enough to make your breath stutter.

Then she spoke.

"Does y'girl know you're here?"

The question sent a sharp, electric jolt through you.

Not because she cared.

Because she didn't.

You took a shaky breath, trying to ground yourself, trying to find your voice. "Not my girl," you managed to say. "And no."

Paige smirked against your skin, the curl of her lips sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

"She'll know by the time I'm done with you, mama."

Before you could even think of a response, before you could argue or deny the implication behind her words, she was back on you—biting, sucking, marking, until you were sure she had already made good on that promise.

Paige's lips never left your skin, moving lower, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck and down to your collarbones. Each press of her lips was deliberate, her tongue flicking out to soothe where she had nipped, her breath warm against your skin.

But it wasn't just her lips.

Her hands roamed freely, gliding over every inch of exposed skin, her fingers tracing lazy, feather-light patterns against your sides. The contrast of her large, veined hands against your body sent a shiver through you, anticipation curling in your stomach.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

Her mouth traveled further, ghosting over the tops of your breasts, the thin fabric of your cropped tank offering little protection from the heat of her lips. She didn't rush, didn't hurry—she took her time, dragging her teeth against sensitive skin, biting just enough to leave her mark before soothing it with her tongue.

A sharp inhale escaped you, followed by a soft, airy whimper that you tried—and failed—to bite back.

Paige only smirked against your skin.

Her fingers slipped lower, brushing over the waistband of your sweatpants, teasing, testing. Your breath hitched when she hooked her fingers inside, tugging just slightly—just enough to make your pulse race.

She kept her eyes on you as she kissed down, lower, lower, her lips brushing over your stomach, your body tensing under her touch. Each kiss stole more of your breath, her movements painfully slow, torturous in their precision.

She was in complete control. And the worst part?

You wanted her to be.

The moment your sweatpants hit the ground, it became real. Her lips trailed down further, torturously slow and calculated until her path was blocked by the waistband of your panties. But did that stop Paige? No. Instead of ridding you of them like she had done with your pants mere minutes ago, she continued her actions, now placing kisses over the thin material.

Other than the sounds of shuffling on bedsheets and your breathing that started to turn into quiet pants, it was a cathedral of silence. Her lips halted right above your core, her eyes searching yours before placing another kiss over your clothed cunt, the growing wet patch impossible to miss. A small whine escaped your lips at not only that, but the sight of her altogether. The way her lips were already slightly glossed by you.

"Already wet for me, baby?" She teased, mouth hovering over your core as if she was speaking directly to it instead of you. And that familiar, infuriating smirk made you wanna roll your eyes at her.

"Shut up." You mumbled, not due to embarrassment — nor were you shy — but it was all you could muster thanks to the growing desperation for her. More specifically, for her mouth on you.

Paige simply chuckled. It was deep and irritating, but more than anything, it only fuelled the desire for her. Her finger's hooked into your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the floor in swift motions, before her arms curled around your thighs, pulling you closer.

You barely had been given the time to process what was happening, because as soon as you felt the cool air against your exposed core, your legs were already thrown over Paige's shoulders and her mouth was on you. As much as the blonde wanted to torture you, she couldn't hold herself back.

Her tongue connected to your drooling pussy and you mewled. Paige licked a fat stripe up your folds, a choked moan tearing from your throat as she tasted you. "Even sweeter than I remembered."

Your head fell back against the soft mattress, hand flying down to tangle itself in her hair as she spat on your pussy. Her eyes were glued onto you for a moment, admiring the way her saliva mixed with your slick before diving right in.

"Fuck, please don't stop." You near to whined in pleasure while she continued her attack on your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit with just enough pressure to drive you insane and cheeks hollowing whenever she sucked on it, lips closing around your throbbing bud. She had no intentions of stopping. Not when tasting you was the same as miraculously stumbling across a source of water in the desert.

Once the tip of Paige's tongue began to circle your entrance, you were a goner. Airy and high pitched whimpers fell from your lips while you white-knuckled her hair — using it as an anchor — and the blonde was absolutely sure that, that had to be her favorite sound in the world.

Your back arched off the bed ever so slightly when her tongue prodded into you, plunging in and out with acute precision. The sight of it had her quietly chuckling against you, sending vibrations through your core.

"Damn, mama. Got you feeling that good just by eating your pretty pussy?" Paige pulled back just enough to be able to speak, the pride and her ego all too evident in her voice. She had you right where she wanted. "Your girl not fucking you right?"

You wanted to say something, anything to shut her up. To wipe that stupid smirk — that you couldn't see but were fully aware of — off her stupidly pretty face. But you couldn't. She had already corrupted your mind and robbed you of your own ego and pride. "No. Not like you." Those were the words slipping from your lips and you had no desire to take them back.

That's all it took for Paige to delve back in between your legs, tongue fucking into you and arms holding you down. You didn't even realize how your hips bucked into Paige's mouth, grinding yourself against the girl.

A low, approving hum rumbled in Paige's chest as your hips bucked against her mouth, "Just like that, baby. Ride my face just like that," Paige encouraged, her voice muffled.

Your moans grew louder, more frantic as you instinctively tried to close your legs, squeezing her head with your thighs.

Paige's hands were quick to spread you open again, one leg slipping off her shoulder but she only saw that as an opportunity, tilting her head sideways for more access. Her tongue left your entrance, running it back and forth over your clit and shaking her head from side to side. Gluttony adorned Paige as she devoured you.

She didn't slow down when you warned her that you were about to cum, didn't stop when your orgasm crashed over you while her name fell from you repeatedly. Only when your hand in her hair started pushing her head back, she finally pulled away. Paige's gaze fixated on your cunt, wetness dripping from your hole as you clenched around nothing.

Your wetness coated her lips and chin as she looked back up at you and the sight of it all had a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth— One that was hidden by her wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

As she was moving to hover over you again, you felt a digit dip back in between your folds and suddenly it was right in front of you lips. "Open up," her voice was firm and her words clear.

Without breaking eye contact, your lips wrapped around her middle finger, tasting yourself. It wasn't anything you hadn't already done before, but the way she spoke, her tone and her eyes boring into yours had you flustered.

"Good girl. Tastes like heaven, hm?" She continued and all you could do was mindlessly nod and hope that the warmth creeping up on your cheeks wasn't noticeable. Normally you'd cringe at those first two words, it was never something that you thought you'd enjoy being called. But coming from Paige? It had you turning into her ditzy little bitch.

The tips of her fingers were barely brushing against your lips, a featherlight touch that sent shivers down your spine. She took her time, her blue eyes studying you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. Your lips were swollen, your hair slightly messy, cheeks flushed with warmth, and your eyes still glistening as you tried to steady yourself. Everything about you held her captive, and she didn't bother to hide it.

"You look so fucking perfect like this," she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

You held her gaze, your chest still rising and falling as you came down from it, lost in the moment, in her.

After a beat, Paige pulled away, climbing off of you with a quiet exhale. She was still fully clothed as she strode toward her bag, the absence of her warmth already making you stir. You watched as she crouched down, digging through her things before pulling something out. The moment your eyes landed on the strap, you inhaled deeply, thighs instinctively pressing together.

Paige turned back toward you, her smirk slow and knowing as she studied your reaction, her gaze sweeping over you with deliberate slowness. She took her time walking back to the bed, tilting her head slightly as if contemplating something before finally speaking.

"What's wrong, mama?" she taunted, her voice teasing yet edged with something heavier. "Scared you can't take it?"

You inhaled sharply, fingers twitching against the sheets. Shaking your head, you swallowed hard, willing your voice to come out steady. "No. I can take it."

Paige didn't reply. She only let out a quiet chuckle, the sound low and rich as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her sweatpants. In one smooth motion, she rid herself of them, standing there in nothing but her sports bra and the black harness she was now securing around her hips and thighs.

The sight of her like this—self-assured, composed, and devastatingly attractive—made something deep in your stomach twist. Your fingers curled into the fabric beneath you, anticipation buzzing through your veins as Paige settled her gaze back on you.

She smirked again, rolling her shoulders back, completely in control.

"That's what I thought," she murmured.

You blinked and suddenly felt the mattress dip, the blonde already climbing back onto the other side of the bed and resting her back against the pillows and bed's headboard. "C'mere." She demanded, patting her lap in such a cocky, infuriating way that had you wanting to roll your eyes and put your clothes back on.

But you didn't. Instead, you listened and your legs were already thrown over her thighs. You watched as spat in her hand, using it as lubricant to stroke her silicone strap while she eyed you up and down. The way your hardened nipples poked at your thin tank top and the way your cunt continued to drip on her bare thigh.

"As much as I wanna see you ride my thigh, I'd rather watch you take this dick right now." Her words were clear and direct, tainted with desire in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

Upon not getting a response from you, her hands reached out to grip your waist, pulling further up on her lap. That's all it took for you to prop yourself up on your knees—as wobbly as they felt— pussy hovering over her strap before you replaced her hand with yours, positioning the tip towards your entrance and slowly sinking down on it.

A chocked gasp fell from you, lips parting at the sheer size and girth of it. It had been a while since you took anything more than a couple digits and the switch was overwhelming to say the least.

Paige's gazes was glued onto the scene, watching the way your pussy swallowed her whole with a faint smirk—slowly but surely. Inch by inch. Her palms caressed all over your torso in order to help you feel more comfortable.

It didn't take long for you to get accustomed to the intrusion, your hips grinding back and forth. You could barely look at her, the way her hungry eyes focused you like a hunter it's prey, tongue darting out to lick her lips and occasionally biting the bottom one. It drove you insane and you couldn't think straight, your head tipped back.

"You can do better than that, baby. C'mon, ride me with the same energy you had on that court today." She spoke again, her tone encouraging, yet taunting. It almost made you chuckle. Of course she was still stuck on that, she'd always been a sore loser.

Taking a deep breath, you began to bounce up and down on her, small moans coming from you every time it hit that certain spot. You hadn't realized just how close her face was to yours until you looked down at her again, her blue eyes so dark and sharp that tore a whimper from you.

Her hands snaked up to your tank top, pushing the material up until your breasts sprung free. Her smirk grew wider and her hands slid down to your hips, her grip tightening as she watched your bounce so close to her face, before fully riding you of the material.

Paige breathed, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and up the column of your throat. She took a moment to admire the sight of your tits, her gaze hungry and appreciative. "Fuck, baby... Look at you," she murmured, leaning down to take one hardened nipple into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive bud, sucking and grazing it with her teeth

The muscles in your thighs were starting to tighten and burn, but you tried to ignore it. The pleasure was far greater than a little pain that you could easily handle.

Paige's blunt nails were digging into your skin as she looked up at your face now, admiring the way your brows furrowed, eyes fluttering shut and lips parted as you panted. The knot in your abdomen was starting to tighten and you had no intentions of losing it.

Next thing you knew, you were being lifted off of her and thrown back onto the mattress stomach down. It only took her a couple seconds to lift your hips up and kneel behind you. In the blink of an eye, she slid herself back inside of you, her hips already back to snapping into you. A mix of 'wait's and 'slow down's came from you, but she was already in too deep.

"Said y'could take it, right? Fucking take it then. You know the safeword."

Her pace was quick and relentless, every need to prove herself to you suddenly making a grand return. Paige knew that by the end of the night, you'd be her's, one way or another. With every movement from the blonde, you were being pushed further up the bed, face pressed into the mattress with one of her hands pushing down against your shoulder and your cries muffled. Even the simplest touch of her hands and the way her fingertips dug into your hips was enough to have you a mess.

"Fuck, Paige. S' good." You managed to cry out, words muffled due to the position you were in. In all honesty, if you could've stopped yourself from praising her, you would've. But it was impossible to keep your pride alive when she was killing you from the back.

A smug smile curled at her lips and her chest filled with pride. "Yeah? Just like old times, hm?" Her voice honeyed up, cooing at you.

Of course she would say that— remind you that it wasn't the first time she's had you like this. Face down and ass up while she claimed you as hers for as long as she could. Until the post nut clarity would eventually hit you like a truck.

But until then, you were all hers.

It was clear that you were still holding back, biting your lip or burying your face into the sheets to drown out the sounds you were making. Paige wasn't having any of it.

"Lemme hear you, mama." Her tone sounded almost demanding, hands tightening their grip around your hips as she pulled you closer against her, filling you to the brim. "God— sucking my cock in, hm?"

You couldn't help but let out a loud cry, your own hands gripping the bedsheets like they were a lifeline and the sloppy sounds of Paige driving into you at full force were nothing shy of pornographic.

It didn't take long for the knot in your stomach to tighten and for the familiar warmth to pool in your pit. You didn't have to say anything—didn't want to say anything further. With the way you were clenching around her, she swore that she could almost feel it as if it were her own cock, and she knew you were close.

"Paige—"

She was quick to interrupt you. "I know. Cum for me, mama." Her tone was almost comforting, urging you to let go.

You didn't have to be told twice. The wave of pleasure washed over you, sinful and pornographic sounds escaping you— not that you had the energy to hold them back this time.

Paige's grip loosened and instead her palms were gently rubbing your lower back, soothing the areas she had held onto too tightly. The blonde carefully slipped out of you, giving you a few moments to catch your breath while she bent forward to place feather light kisses on your skin.

You were still in the same position. Face down, ass up and softly panting for much needed air. Her eyes were now on your cunt, admiring the way your own cum leaked out of you and she couldn't help but lower herself until she face facing it. Her tongue darted out to lick a stripe up your folds, just to have another quick taste, she told herself.

"Sorry. Couldn't stop myself." She chuckled lightly in response to you whining at the sensation.

Paige moved without warning, her strength effortless as she flipped you onto your back, the mattress dipping beneath you. Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling as you looked up at her, doe-eyed.

She hovered over you, her gaze dark and unreadable, a slow, deliberate heat simmering beneath the surface. Her hands—rough, calloused from years of playing—traced the curve of your waist, fingertips skimming your ribs before sliding down to your stomach in a slow, teasing glide.

She wasn't rushing. She was waiting.

Waiting for you to catch your breath, to meet her eyes, to let her know you were still right there with her.

"Think you can give me one more?" Her knuckles brushed over your abdomen, up and down and just that was enough to leave you wanting even more.

You nodded your head, taking a deep breath through your nose and letting it rest inside your lungs for a couple seconds before releasing it.

Paige grinned faintly, eyes still dark and clouded with just as much lust as the second she opened the door for you. "I'ma be softer this time, don't worry, baby." You both knew she was lying.

Eventually she was positioned between your legs, tip of her strap gliding back and forth over your soaked cunt. She paused for a moment, just long enough to admire, but the whine that ripped out of you brought her back to earth.

"Just put it in." You couldn't stand the way she was teasing you. Not when everything in you was screaming for her. The desire you felt towards Paige was like wanting her to live inside your rib cage— impossibly close.

"You want it that bad?" Her brows raised ever so slightly, no doubt taunting you for her own enjoyment.

But by this point, you'd given up. No more holding back, you'd let her have you in whatever way and every way. "Need it so bad. Please, baby."

A feral, triumphant grin spread across Paige's face at your desperate, needy pleas. With a swift, gentle thrust of her hips, Paige sheathed her thick, girthy strap deep into your dripping, eager hole.

Paige exhaled at the sight, starting to roll her hips in a steady, deep rhythm. The way you were gripping her 'dick' like a vice, coating it so beautifully had her head spinning.

She hooked your knees over her elbows, nearly folding you in half as she loomed over you, consuming you completely. "Y’need it, huh? It's mine? Pussy all mine?" Paige punctuated her words with sharp, rough snaps of her hips, forcing her cock deeper in than you thought possible, filling you to the brim.

Your eyes squeezed shut, lips parted as you tried to speak. "Yours." It came out airy, too quiet for Paige's liking.

"What was that?" She near to mocked, pressing your thighs closer against your chest so she could hit at a deeper angle. "Speak up or I'm gonna stop."

You didn't let the 'threat' linger in the air, your mind instantly scrambling to spew out somewhat coherent rambles. "Yes— yes it's yours. All fucking yours, Paige."

"There you go. Wasn't so hard." Leaning down, Paige captured your lips in a filthy, dominating kiss, all tongue and teeth as she fucked into her harder and faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin and the noises you both made filling the room.

She panted at the strength in which she was fucking you. Paige knew she was hitting your cervix with every thrust, stirring up your guts, but she couldn't stop. Not until she'd ruined you for everybody else.

All you could do was whimper against Paige's lips, nodding your head at every word even if you couldn't fully process all of them. All you could think of was the feeling of the blonde on top of you, gripping and touching, the tip continuously abusing that one spot

Your moans filled the room and you prayed there would be no noise complaint with how loud the two of you were being, not that either of you truly cared. Not in that moment at least.

"Slower, please," you managed to choke out, wanting to savour it for as long as possible. Wanted to be closer to her. You could swear that you felt Paige all up in your guts— maybe even your chest— tight pussy clenching over the blonde's strap.

"Mmm, you want me to slow down, baby? Want me to fuck you nice and gentle?" She purred, her voice a seductive rasp.

Paige began to roll her hips in a slower, more deliberate rhythm, grinding her thick strap against your g-spot with each thrust.

"Can feel it in my guts." You slurred your words slightly, mind blank— fucked dumb by her cock as Paige usually liked to call it.

The blonde let out her throaty, signature chuckle. "That's because I am," she nodded her head down and your gaze followed, eyes widening and breath hitching in your throat.

You could actually see her inside of you, the bulge in your belly an indicator of just how deep she was inside of you. You rasped out a deep "fuck" at the sinful sight.

"Would knock you up if I could, pretty girl," she smirked as you clenched around her. "Yeah? Y'like the sound of that? Y'wanna have my babies, mama?"

The sight of it mixed with the idea—the vision of her breeding you, her cum dripping out of you—was pushing you towards the edge. You nodded your head frantically, nails digging into the skin of her biceps as you gripped them.

Your whimpers and moans grew more high pitched the closer you got to your orgasm, mouth agape as you tried to keep somewhat quiet. You couldn't help but hold your breath occasionally, too lost in the pleasure to breathe evenly.

Paige's hand came up to grip your jaw, squeezing your cheeks slightly and forcing you to look at her. "You wanna cum on my dick? Gotta ask for it first."

"Yes, please. Please, Paige, Please, please, please," you repeated over and over, begging for it like a whore. It felt like you couldn't even think, let alone speak coherently.

She continued to thrust into you with slow and deep strokes, coaxing your release out of you. And once again, the pit inside ur tummy started to burn, tightening until you felt like you couldn't hold it anymore. In all honesty, you can no idea whether you were about to cum or if you were about to utterly embarrass yourself.

"Go ahead, baby. Let go f’me."

You didn't have to be told twice, eyes staring into hers and jaw falling slack as it crashed over you, barely any sound escaping you as you came. Paige could feel you soaking not only her thighs, but the bedsheets as well as her eyes trained on the way you gushed all over her in awe.

It took you a few moments to come back down from it and one glance down had your hands flying up to cover your face. You groaned into your palms in embarrassment. To be fair, you had no idea that you were even capable of squirting.

"God, that was so fucking hot. Sexiest thing I've ever seen." She breathed out a faint chuckle, "Hey, look at me."

And for some reason, you complied— letting your hands fall from your face and glancing up at her.

"You're fucking perfect, yeah? Nothing to be embarrassed of." And the way she said those words, so soft and clear, told you that she was being genuine.

Paige pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before carefully sliding out of you and slipping away, the warmth of her body leaving yours as she padded toward the bathroom. You listened to the sound of running water, your breath still steadying as you lay there, staring at the ceiling.

When she returned, she had a damp towel in hand, her expression softened as she knelt beside you. There was no arrogance in her touch now—just quiet care, her hands moving with gentle precision. The sight of it tugged at something deep in your chest.

Maybe Paige wasn't as bad as you'd thought. Maybe there was more to her than the cocky, womanizing basketball star.

You couldn't stop watching her, admiring the way her brows knit slightly in concentration, the way the dim light caught the sharp lines of her face. This time, you were the one staring in awe.

"What?" Paige asked, a small smile pulling at her lips, catching the way you were looking at her.

"You're just so beautiful." The words left you before you could think better of them, but you meant them. Every single one.

A hint of color dusted her pale cheeks, and before you could take in the sight of it for too long, Paige leaned back in, pressing another kiss to your lips—this time slower, as if she was savoring it.

When she pulled away, her voice was light but laced with something genuine. "So... you gon give me a chance or what?" It was a joke, but there was something behind it, something almost hopeful.

You held her gaze for a moment before giving the subtlest of nods, your smile faint but real. "Sure. Why not."

Paige exhaled a soft laugh, but you could feel it—the way her heart was racing just as much as yours.

taglist (mostly ppl who asked weeks ago lol i’m so sorry) @brenwritesss @bueckersbitch @starlighttsv @ekisokay @st4rrzynight @ohmybueckers @pboogerswbb @yailtsv @omg-imtumbling @xxloveralways14 @cowboylikeavaa @prettygirl-gabi @itsstavy13 @kaelaheartsyou @jnkbueckers @shootingstarrrrr @melpthatsme

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ vamptizm writes ࿐ྂ #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers oneshot #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #Spotify

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retiredteabag · 14 days ago

Text

That’s all it takes?

Synopsis: you’ve worked alongside Gojo Satoru for years; he’s painfully arrogant, critical about everything, and infuriatingly competent at his job. Worst of all, he’s just as striking as everyone thinks. For once, someone looks your way, why is it he cares so much?

tags: lowkey enemies/rivals to lovers, reader has a thing for being praised, journalist au, unedited (sorry :P)

pt. 1?

my masterlist

You'd thought the intern was trying to get a good word out of you at first. It wasn't uncommon for aspiring journalists to do whatever they could to get their foot in the door of such a competitive industry. The fact that he had been accepted onto the office floor seemingly was not enough for him. Hey, you could appreciate a handworker.

The clicking of the keyboard directly before you could only be overshadowed by the usual smacking of gum from the editor who was absent today. Her vacant desk oddly quiet. You flipped through your notebook and added even more sticky notes to your monitor, reminders of all the tasks to complete this week.

You were just about as type A as a person could be, everything was done on time, and done well. You had made something of a name for yourself and the validation kept you going. You devoured praise like it was the only thing sustaining you. That was the type of attitude that landed you positions in the greatest opinion piece publisher in Japan.

You weren't the only one who was overly competitive; however, no, someone else had become well-known even beyond his article acclaim.

The sweet little interns watched that man now like hawks. The moment his boisterous presence entered the open floor of the office cubicles, eyes followed him with an anxious reverence reserved only for the brain behind the words so many bore witness to.

Satoru Gojo was a well-known creature, even outside of journalism, the press, and the news.

Today, of course, he was in one of those moods. He sauntered into the room with a casual arrogance of someone who knew full well that the earth continued to rotate because he demanded it to be so.

The meeting he had just left was running late, his afternoon had been disrupted and the chaos he had yet to dispel was surely about to be unleashed on some unsuspecting intern.

"I've worked here far too long for superiors to still be unable to summarize a damn meetinggg~" Gojo hummed around a mouthful of croissant he had stolen from the client table. The editor that typically sat beside you would have flinched at Gojo's current gesticulation mid-rant.

You missed the peace she brought you when Gojo came around. Crumbs fell as the man licked his fingers. "Wasting my time like that, someone's gotta let them go."

You spun in your chair, looking back to see if Yaga, the company's publishing editor-in-chief, the very man Satoru Gojo was badmouthing over a sip of smoothie, was hearing his insults.

You didn't even blink when the very 'superior' exited from the conference room, waving Gojo off. The interns seemed even more worried. "The office doesn't revolve around your snacking schedule, Gojo. If you want perfect synchronicity, you might as well quit."

The apprentices looked between each other and you smiled them off, silently telling them to get back to researching the projects they were supposed to be putting together.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Satoru squinted, judging your very existence with his gaze.

He sighed theatrically, lounging himself across an open swivel chair of the empty editors cubical as if sitting through an assembly was the greatest waste of his precious- "They should know how important my time is-"

You roll your eyes, cutting him off, "Oh yes, so terribly important that you're spending it eating and bitching to me."

If you were being wholly honest, the shareholders in that meeting should be grateful. You'd never say it aloud, but Satoru Gojo wasn't just a writer. He was a cultural phenomenon. In his early twenties, he had already been revered for his reporting and interviewing skills, his name had graced more publications post-grad than you had even after building your portfolio.

His rate per word was outrageous as well as his schedule: a true nightmare. The Tokyo Times was beyond lucky to have been able to keep him on the team for as long as they had.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, the drama queen. He reached across you, stealing one of your pens and spinning it around amidst his fingers. "'The only reason I haven't jumped ship is because it brings me." He glided out of the chair and leaned against your cubicle, sliding the pen along the decor you had there, observing it, "so much pleasure", you wince at his seductive tone, "to bring you…annoyance." You smack his hand before he can poke the fat of your cheek with the writing utensil.

Satoru grins, spinning away with your pen, scraping up a donut before making the way back to his office. His very own, if you were curious.

One of the trainees from earlier was watching this interaction. He had a look of shock on his face as if he couldn't imagine someone smacking The Satoru Gojo.

You'd like to imagine he just couldn't fathom such a well-revered writer being so immature, but alas, that was less likely.

If it was possible for someone to be more critical than yourself when it came to work, it was Satoru. He had this sadistic urge in him that made it impossible to not call out the mistakes of others. It stung. That was the truth, but you would rather he tell you his thoughts then lie to your face and laugh behind your back.

Working with him was more of a challenge than a motivation most days. The salary was a great motivation, though. Yaga and his team paid you well. More than that though, was the rage to outlive that white haired tantrum of a man.

You could see it in the way he smirked at you, in the way his eyes found yours when you would slip up, the way he never seemed to take you seriously. This might just be the worst aspect of your personality; you just couldn't help but want to impress people, even if they didn't respect you.

"He seems like fun to work alongside." One of the interns had left the side of his fellow novices. Making small talk, telling a joke.

You shrug at the young man, "Most can't tolerate him for longer than a fiscal quarter. I hope you have what it takes."

He looked down at his shoes suddenly, "Me too."

He was tall, or taller than you at least, sweet, and earnest. He dressed up for every day at the office, he was never late, and he greeted every employee by name - to put it simply, he made a good impression. You turn your chair to him, "How are you liking your internship, is it the experience you hoped for?"

He smiled again, and his eyes practically twinkled. "I'm very grateful for the experience, I'll continue to work hard."

"I have no doubt." You nodded encouragingly at him and turned to face the screen before you. You figured he would move onto his fellows, go work on his project maybe, but he stayed standing there for a moment too long.

He heaved a breath as if steeling himself to say something risky. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask you."

He looked suddenly shy, "I've read a lot of your stuff, you've been a real inspiration to me, and being able to work here has been-"

You know where this is going, you give him an understanding nod. Reading off the name on his chest, you lean in conspiratorially, whispering "I'm sorry, I won't be able to sway the decisions on who gets offered jobs after your program is up. But you're a hard worker, I'm sure y-"

He startles suddenly, waving his hands frantically, "No! Oh, no, no, I'm not... asking for anything like that... I'm sorry I came off that way, I was just... well," He swallows, and you attempt to track his eyes as they wander, confused about what he could possibly want from you.

"I just... I admire you a lot. You're bright, and...you're beautiful...and I was actually wondering if I could buy you a meal sometime?" He sounded so unsure of himself but he was standing up straight, breathing through his nose.

You weren't sure what to say. You knew you weren't unattractive but to be completely frank, people didn't ask you out. You chalked it up to being intimidating or perpetually busy, or a control freak. Whatever the cause, you were not accustomed to people liking you in that way.

You flush.

"Oh..." You had to replay his words over and over again. Your mouth opened and closed, and you tried to weigh what he was asking. He was cute, but also… he was an intern at the company you worked for.

Before you could even formulate a response, you were jerked back to reality when the gentleman who had just so adamantly confessed his feelings made an "aagh!" noise.

Yaga was tugging him by the ear. "You, young man, better get back to work before I deduct points from your final presentation for fraternization."

He looked overcome with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck while apologies spilled from his mouth. Yaga flicked him gently before he could bow anymore and rolled his eyes your way.

Dumbstruck, you stared at the screen of your computer for a long while. A dozen tabs were open, your task bar was still full of items you needed to get to today, even so, you found yourself cupping your cheeks, feeling the blood that had pooled there.

"Please don't tell me that was your type."

You're not sure when he appeared, but Gojo Satoru was staring at you with discernment. He had a judgmental eyebrow raised and he was tongue-ing at his cheek.

"Jesus." You huff, stretching your jaw, trying to brush off the flush you felt atop your ears. "What on earth are you doing?"

You made a brave attempt to type something onto a notation sheet. Dispelling the embarrassment that came with someone actually liking you.

"What am I doing? Look at yourself, you're all sheepish over some kid hitting on you."

You choke, "He's not a kid! He's graduated."

Satoru squints at you now, moving even closer. "Oh my gosh," he pulls a 'I'm-grossed-out-by-you-but-intrigued-all-the-same' face and continues, "are you actually into younger guys?"

"No!" You pant, your hands spread. He wasn't even that much younger than you, but being pressed about anything romantic, especially from Gojo was embarrassing.

"What's with this face you're pulling then?" He tapped the pen he had so rudely stolen earlier atop the wall of your cubicle, "I've never seen you all-" he fake gags, "-shy like this."

You huff, trying to find the words. "I'm-" you scoff, trying again, "not all of us are so used to...that sort of thing."

He straightens up suddenly, pulling his lips together, "Are you saying like... being flirted with?" He chuckles at the idea and you grit your teeth.

Breathing in, you try to laugh, trying to sound nonchalant, but it comes out annoyed. "Yes, Gojo, not everyone has people falling at their feet all the time."

Have I mentioned that Satoru, on top of being an incredibly talented creative, was a painfully striking individual to look at? Well, sure, he was very symmetrical. And tall. And he had...nice teeth. Veins too. It’s fair to say he wasn't lacking when it came to attention.

"So...you like him then." Somehow, he seemed offended at the idea.

"No, not necessarily." Was he trying to insinuate you were some kind of creep? He couldn't have been more than two years your junior. "But he was nice..."

"Nice?" Satoru wheezed. You didn't move. This whole interaction was ticking you off. Gojo's guffaws continued until he noticed you were just silently staring at him. "Are you serious?" He wiped a faux tear.

Why this was so upsetting for you, you couldn't quite place. "Yes, Gojo." You had a bit of an insulted tone to your voice, you wondered why he didn't seem to care about wasting his precious time with you suddenly.

"What... that's all it takes with you?"

Gears began to turn in Satorus' brain as he observed you now, taking in the new information.

"Normal people like niceness, Satoru, crazy, I know." You refuse to meet his gaze but he stands infuriatingly still, arms crossed, before his head canters to the side as if considering the concept for the first time.

"hmm..."

He shifts on his feet. You grow more tense by the second, waiting for his next snide comment. He clicks the pen a few times before slowly, setting it back on your desk. And then he was finally gone.

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abbyshands · 1 year ago

Text

hers only

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

synopsis; gf!abby does not like clara, the gym trainer who can’t keep her hands off you. so who’s surprised when she loses her composure, channeling her rage in the form of rough, hard sex?

pairing; dom!abby anderson x sub!fem!reader

warnings; abby’s jealous as fuck, a little toxic!abby but not really, use of a strap-on, abby refers to the strap as her dick/cock, and strap is referred to as her dick/cock, throat-fucking (with fingers), fingering, choking, pretty rough sex, degrading (slut/bitch/whore, etc), a little praise, use of baby/honey, one use of y/n BEFORE the smut (sorry, it was necessary), spanking, reader cries, abby gives reader a sensory overload, dumbfucking, etc

a/n; hello! my name is kitlyn, kit for short :) i’m a huge writer, and tlou is my latest obsession. so, ofc, i had to get this fic out for my gf, and much more to come. i hope you like this, and if you have any ideas for me to write, please lmk!

p.s.; your daily reminder (or a fun fact), abby canonically bench presses 205 pounds. i rest my case <3

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

she could only make it a few weeks before her annoyance got the best of her.

you were bulking up for an upcoming mission, assigned to you by issac. in the area you would be in, scar presence was heavy, and you wouldn’t be back to the wlf for a bit, so gaining muscle was a necessity.

abby just wished she didn’t have to watch that girl’s hands all over you to get the job done.

she didn’t understand why she couldn’t train you herself, why issac wouldn’t fucking let her. he waved her off, giving her some bullshit about “a lack of focus.”

come on. if she knew you needed to bulk up, if it meant it would keep you safe, she wouldn’t lose her focus just because it was you.

maybe.

but this was the replacement. some other girl in the wlf, hands all over you as she helped you do pull-ups. your body was covered in sweat, and you had been at this for over an hour. the girl, whose name was clara, had her hands on your hips as you lifted yourself up and over the bar again and again.

“c’mon, give me ten more. you got it,” clara said. you were looking at yourself in the mirror as you let out a grunt with each pull-up you did, on your tenth at this point. but you did your best to push through.

“clara,” you groaned. “i can’t fucking—“ you began. but your trainer cut you off.

“don’t use your breath. just keep going. i’ve seen you do it before. you got it,” clara said once more, tone firm. you didn’t think it would be a good idea to deny her. so you went on.

but you were fully oblivious to the pair of blue eyes fixed on you across the room.

you had forgotten that abby also worked out around this time to lift with manny, so it didn’t even occur to you that she was gazing at this whole thing like a hawk.

“abs!” manny said to abby, accent thick. he snapped his fingers in front of abby’s face, and abby looked at him both confusedly, but also annoyedly.

“huh? what, what is it?” abby asked. she had fully spaced out, and her cheeks were red. but it wasn’t because of the workout.

it was your fucking trainer.

“estás bien? i lost you a few minutes ago,” manny said. abby had gotten used to his habit of going back and forth from spanish to english, to the point where she knew a thing or two. so she easily responded.

“yeah, i’m fine. let’s just finish for today, okay? i’m not feeling it,” she excused. but manny could see where her eyes were.

you.

“ah,” manny said. he seemed to understand now, a look of comprehension across his face as he said that. “okay. i’ll see you back at the room, then, sí?” manny asked as he held his fist out.

abby did the same and gave him the small fist bump he was looking for. “yeah, see you.”

once manny had left, abby began to pack up her gym bag. by now, you had finished your pull-ups, and were taking needy gulps from your water bottle. clara gave you a small pat on the back once you had finished drinking.

“that was good. you got any more in you?” clara laughed.

you smiled at her, shrugging. “not sure. i’ve gotta meet my girlfriend soon,” you said. really, it was in an hour or two. but you’d have to shower, change, etc. so, to you, it was soon.

nevertheless, you figured a bit more couldn’t hurt. so, you said, “but i think i can do a few more reps.”

clara just gave you a nod. each time you would bring up this girlfriend of yours, her demeanor changed like that. she’d tense, and pause her words.

you knew what it seemed like, and obviously, you didn’t like clara. but you did kind of need her.

and besides, if abby—fuck, if abby knew? it'd be a fucking field day to say the least.

you ended up choosing back squatting as a way to finish off your session with clara. you ducked your head under the bar, elbows flexing as you removed it from the rack. you caved a little under the heaviness of it, but with clara’s reassurance, you did your best to move.

clara put her arms under yours as you held the bar behind your back. she squatted along with you, body behind yours as she spotted you.

you could only make it ten or so reps before you failed on the eleventh, much to your surprise, as it had never happened to you before. clara put her hands on your chest quickly, and helped you move the bar back up to the rack.

“sorry,” you whispered in a huff, face red from the tension your body had just undergone. clara’s front pressed to your back for just a moment, and you felt a little uncomfy. she had spotted you before while doing a back squat, but not once did you fail one, forcing her to really touch you like that.

“it’s okay, it’s okay. you did fine,” clara smiled. this time, she put a hand on your shoulder, way too close for comfort. and then, she murmured to you, her own face red. “i’m proud of you.”

oh, that was fucking it.

abby discarded her gym bag on the floor. she tossed it somewhere. she would grab it later. but she couldn’t fucking watch this anymore. who the hell did this girl think she was, hands all over you like that? and who knows what she was saying to you? that was abby’s fucking job.

and hers only.

“y/n,” an all too familiar voice said from your left, and you didn’t need to look to know who had spoken.

you were thinking, my savior, once abby’s voice filled your ears. but when your eyes moved to hers, you were sure your soul left your body.

because she looked pissed.

clara moved her hand off your shoulder, and you hated the way she did it—like the two of you had been doing way more than just working out.

“grab your shit, we’re leaving,” abby said firmly to you, and she couldn’t help but send a small glare clara’s way. you weren’t the only one feeling scared, because clara was pale as a ghost. she had known you had a girlfriend, obviously.

but it was abby fucking anderson?

neither you nor clara said a word as you packed up your gym bag. once you had, abby was grabbing you by the waist, and yanking you out of the gym, leaving clara far, far behind you.

“abs—“ you tried, you really fucking did. but abby didn’t want to hear it.

“not a fucking word.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

manny knew better than to come back to the room once he saw abby eyeing you like that in the gym. it wouldn’t be the first, nor would it be the last, time that abby’s temper had ended in a room full of sex.

as soon as you were inside of the room, abby was grabbing your gym bag from your hands, tossing it far away, and kissing you aggressively. you responded with a whine, but let her, kissing her back with just as much passion. her hand gripped your neck as she all but slammed you onto the door, free hand running over your body like it was a temple she was born to worship.

really, it was.

abby put her free hand under your leg and held it up, pressing herself into you as her tongue battled yours. you moaned into her mouth as her grip on your neck compressed, her fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs.

what a good day to have worn shorts…

when abby finally pulled back, your lips were spilling with drool, lips numb and plump from the belligerence in abby’s kisses. your whole face was hot, and abby’s face was red.

and, fuck, did she look mad.

abby smashed her lips back onto yours, and kissed you all the way to her bed. once there, she pushed you down onto it and got on top of you, her large thighs on either side of your lap.

if you weren’t in for it before, you surely were now.

abby reached her arm out to open the drawer of her bedside table, and it was only a moment or two before she was pulling out a very familiar item.

her strap.

“a- abs, wh- what are you—“ you began dumbly, way too curious to find out what it was she had in mind. but abby wasn’t feeling at all gracious.

you talk when she says you can.

“shut the fuck up,” abby damn near growled at you, the kind of tone she reserved for when she was really fucking angry. you had heard it many times before. when you were on a mission and battling scars. when issac reprimanded her for being careless in the field. when mel pissed her off one too many times.

bottom line, when shit didn’t go her way.

and the idea that she felt that way now both turned you on and scared the fuck out of you.

abby was quick to secure the strap’s harness to her waist. the view of the dildo attached to it always made your mouth fill with drool: black, veiny, seven and a half inches long. she’d made you cum with it so many times you lost count, and it was a million times better than the real thing.

especially when you had abby anderson on top of you, or behind you, or below you, encouraging you to take it like the good girl you were.

she grabbed your hips with fervor, forcing you to wrap your legs around her torso once your bottoms, and underwear, were out of her way. you let out a needy mewl as she slid the tip through your already wet folds, riling you up, just like that.

when your eyes closed as an answer, abby tutted, and moved one of her large hands down to grab you by the chin. “look at me,” she demanded.

and who the hell would you be to deny that?

your eyes were weak and needy as they met abby’s, pupils big with just a touch of fear, heart pounding in your ears. abby spoke firmly, and you could tell that she wasn’t playing around.

you had left fun and games behind the second you walked into this room.

“you’re gonna take this dick as much as i want you to, over and over again. n’ i’m gonna fuck you rough, ‘til you’re babbling out nonsense. do you hear me?”

your body felt paralyzed when those words left abby’s lips, her tone dripping in anger. you couldn’t manage much, and all you could do was nod. but she was not having that.

she squeezed down on your chin, which made you whimper out. “words.”

“y- yes, ma’am, i- i understand,” you weakly muttered out, and that seemed to suffice for her. abby let up on her grip, and her hand moved down from your chin to your lips.

“good. now suck.”

you didn’t delay. you opened your mouth for abby to push her fingers inside of it, index and ring beginning to fuck it. abby could feel your drool as she pumped the two fingers in and out of you, your tongue eagerly wrapping around them.

she doesn’t give a damn in the world as she pounds them to the back of your throat, making you gag, and your eyes close and roll back as she does so.

not for long.

“open your eyes. keep ‘em on me,” abby says in a rough tone, and you oblige a little too quickly. water’s already filling the corners of your eyes, and abby can see that when she looks at you.

and she’s barely begun.

“crying for me already, hm? why am i not surprised?” abby couldn’t help but mock you. you looked so feeble like this, choking on her fingers like the whore you were.

“i’d save your tears, honey. ‘cause there’s a lot more where this came from.”

just as you’re beginning to get used to the rough feeling of abby fucking your face with her fingers, she pulls them out, and you let out a small whimper of disapproval.

but it quickly blends into a moan.

her index and ring, the two fingers that you had just had your tongue around, that were soaked in your drool, pushed inside of you without so much as a warning.

“oh, f- fuck, abby,” you moaned as the suddenness of the moment took over your senses. your thighs clenched around her as she skillfully pumped her fingers in and out of your cunt, just as she had so many times in the past.

abby used her other hand to pry your thighs back open. “ah ah, baby. spread your legs for me.”

just when you figured this couldn’t get any more forceful, abby was pushing a third finger inside of you, her middle one, and using her thumb to rub your clit.

your response was way too fast as you grabbed one of abby’s broad shoulders, digging your fingernails into the freckled skin on it. you let out a loud moan as your eyes squeezed shut, letting it all sink in. three of abby’s fingers deep inside of you, pumping in and out of your wet pussy as she thumbed your clit like a fucking pro.

“fuckfuckfuck,” you groaned, and, god, did abby like that. barely begun with you, and you were already drunk off her touch.

but then again, that’s how it always went.

“look at you, fucking soaked for me. needy bitch,” abby degraded you mercilessly as she curled her fingers inside of you, easily hitting your g-spot.

“mmph, abby…” you could barely manage.

“hush,” she said harshly. your gaze moved up to hers as she fingered you, her usual pale blue eyes big, pupils enlarged. it was clear that she wasn’t letting up any time soon. “don’t talk unless i say you can.”

you didn’t.

abby had you soaking her fingers in your release soon enough, your orgasm spilling over you. she pulled her fingers out of you and moved them to her lips, leaving not even one drop behind as she sucked them dry. the view filled your abdomen with butterflies: that was for damn sure.

if this is how she made you feel with your fingers, you could hardly imagine her dick.

and abby didn’t delay. you didn’t get even a second to process before she was lining the tip of the silicone toy to your cunt, and pushing into you forcefully.

“abby, w- wait, fuck. t- too soon,” you whimpered, but you knew abby didn’t give a shit about what you had to say. she shushed you with her hand, putting her fingers past your lips once more.

“don’t care. you’re gonna take this cock like a good fucking girl,” she emphasized the word as she thrust into you hard. “and i don’t wanna hear shit. got that?”

you nodded, and didn’t try to speak again. you just did what abby wanted you to, sucking on her long fingers to keep you occupied while she pounded into your pussy.

“clara can’t fuck you this good, can she, baby?” abby rasped as each thrust grew more ravenous, both fingers pushing deeper.

so that’s what this was all about. well, really, you figured as much. you knew clara’s behavior would somehow bite you in the ass. but now that you had abby’s words to confirm it, you couldn’t be more sure.

you did what you could to shake your head, but let’s be real. it was abby fucking anderson. speechlessness was never an answer in her books. she took her fingers out of your mouth for the last time, eager to hear you talk now.

“say it.”

“n- no, abby. s’just you. s’only you,” your tongue slurred as the words left your lips, and abby couldn’t help but get off on the way you were speaking, a smug smirk on her face.

“mmhm. only i get to fuck this pretty pussy of yours, y’hear me?” abby let out in a grunt, her drool covered hand settling onto your neck, squeezing down. she was fucking you hard, no mercy as her hips thrust aggressively, pushing herself as deep inside of you as she could possibly go.

you were more than okay with that.

“y- yes, ma’am,” you let out a groan of your own as abby rutted her hips into you, eyes locked on hers. “i’m yours. a- all yours.”

you were a whining and whimpering mess as abby gave you a nod of approval, hand gripping your neck like it was her lifeline. “that’s a good whore. mine and no one else’s.”

“how do you think days like today make me feel, huh? fucking bitch with her hands all over you, gawking at you like you’re hers. well, let me tell you somethin’,” abby snarls. she pulls out of you, tip pressed to your folds, and for a moment, you think she’s going to make you beg for her to fuck you once more. but just like that, she’s slamming back inside, going, arguably, deeper than she had before.

“she doesn’t get to have you. no one’s ever gonna fuck you this good. no one’s ever gonna love you like i do. you’re all fucking mine, like it or not. got that?”

you’re not surprised by the aggression in her tone, but, damn, is she pissed. you can feel her anger seep into your skin as she fucks you like a toy, addresses you like a doll.

and you let her.

“m’sorry, abby, m’so sorry. i know i’m yours. i’m yours, swear to god i am. m’so sorry,” you moan dumbly as she squeezes your neck.

which you’re sure will have marks to show for it tomorrow.

“i know you are, baby,” abby rasps. her hand moves from her neck to your thigh now, and she digs her fingernails into it as she slams into you. “and you fucking should be.”

and again, abby has you cumming, her name rolling off your tongue like music as, this time, it’s her cock you soak in your release. “there you go, honey. know you like when i fuck this pussy like this. that’s it,” abby whispered.

your brain was way too foggy with the aggression of this session with your girlfriend to get your words out properly.

what was is it that abby had said about making you babble again?

“f- fuck, abby. oh, fuck,” you whined, body tired from receiving your second orgasm that evening. but abby was nowhere near done with you: both of you knew that.

abby didn’t speak as she pulled herself out of you, grabbing you by the hips and flipping your body over, so that you were no longer on your back. she forced you onto all fours, your ass poking up into the air. she yanks your bottoms fully off of you from behind, underwear following, and settles her hands onto your ass.

“abby, come on, please,” you all but cry out. you’re not sure how much you can take, not when it’s so sudden, anyway. abby’s anger is slowly going away, your caring girlfriend coming back little by little. but you weren’t quite there yet.

“you’ve got one more in you, baby, i know you do,” abby says softly, and she circles her thumbs over your ass. the move is almost loving.

“and you’re gonna take it, like the good slut you are. mkay?”

like you said. almost.

you grumble, but you can’t say no. not only did you not want to, but when it came to abby, that was one of the last things on your mind. probably. . .not a good idea. so, “mkay,” is what you say in response.

“good girl. can fuck you better like this, anyway,” abby hums. she begins to take your shirt off, and you lift your arms up to help her remove you tank top. and then, who’s surprised, she unhooks your bra with ease, discarding it on the floor somewhere.

the feeling’s familiar as abby pushes inside of your aching pussy once more. you’re sore and tired, brain fucked out from abby’s belligerence. but you need her, just as much as you need the very oxygen in your lungs.

and she needs you.

as if this isn’t enough, her arms move under yours, and squeeze each of your tits. it quickly reminds you of the way clara spotted you earlier, because that was one of the very things that had caused this in the first place.

but this felt so much better.

your eyes rolled back into your head as abby rubbed hard circles into your nipples, eager and needy to get you off for the third time in a row. she knew it wouldn’t be long now. each time she fucked you like this, round after round, your orgasms came in quick successions.

literally.

abby was pushing into your g-spot once again, and the feeling of it all was almost too much. if she wanted you to babble, then she got it: because there was no other way to describe the words spilling from your lips.

“a- abby, fuck, please don’t stop. you feel s- so good, f- fuck, please.” you weren’t making any sense by now, at least not to yourself. but abby knew what you wanted.

because she knew just how to please you.

“keep moaning, baby. you sound adorable,” abby chuckled as she fucked you, hips pushing deep into a spot you didn’t even know you had. “all cockdrunk off this dick, like the whore you are. my whore.”

she just had to add that. for good measure.

“tell me how much you like it. tell me how much you like it when i pound your pussy like this.”

you were licking your lips in the neediest way as she pressed her thumbs into your tits. you couldn’t help but push yourself back into her, that fucking needy for her. “i- i love it, abby. love it so much, fuck. you fuck me so good.”

abby moved one of her hands back from your tit and onto your ass, and gave you a small spank there. “fuck, yeah, i do. never gonna get it this good from anyone else, are you, baby? not clara, not any other bitch. just me, yeah?”

“mmph, mhm,” you murmured, and, fuck, were you on the brink. of course no one else could fuck you like this. no one could fuck like this period. some days, you wished the world could see just what abby anderson had to offer.

but that would involve a hell of a lot of sharing that you didn’t want to do.

“aw, i’m fucking you dumb, huh, baby? can’t even get a word out. dumb fucking slut,” abby smirked, slapping your ass one more time, then massaging the red mark with her thumb. “who do you belong to, hm?”

abby wasn’t wrong. your brain was fogged up, cloudy as she slammed into you from the back, and you couldn’t even see as your eyes rolled back into your head for the millionth time over. your words came out messy, drunken, incoherent. “i- i b—i’m—yours, i b- belong to—to you.”

you could feel your third orgasm bubbling up inside of you as abby pounded you from the back, and she had both hands on your tits once more, gripping both of them as she thumbed at your nipples. your face was hot, your lewd moans filling the room to the brim, as abby filled you.

“f- fuck, abby, don’t stop,” you whimpered out, and you had never sounded so broken before. “g- gonna cum.”

well, that much was obvious.

abby didn’t hold you back. she encouraged you with each thrust of her hips, every one increasing in speed with each second that passed by. she was a pro at this, and she knew it.

“that’s it, honey. cum on my cock, loud, like you mean it. wanna hear you scream for me,” she said with a small grunt, and she said it like it was a demand.

you obeyed.

you were yelling your girlfriend’s name as white spilled all over the silicone that was her dick, a series of pornographic moans falling from your swollen lips. your expression was just that, too: lewd, broken, because you had never been fucked like that in your life.

for the last time, abby pulled out of you, and unsecured the harness around her torso. once she put it to the side, she couldn’t help but put her fingers to your pussy for the last time, scooping a bit of your white release onto them. you shuddered as she did so, and looked behind you, just to see her suck her fingers off.

you lay limp on the bed as abby got up to grab a small towel. gingerly, she began to wipe your body clean, beginning with your thighs. she kissed up them as she did it, and it was so, so different to the way she had been manhandling you mere seconds beforehand.

that was abby for you.

once you were both clean, abby laid down beside you, and pulled you close to her body. she put her hands on your waist, and pressed a kiss to your forehead as you snuggled into her broad chest. you didn’t even feel awkward about the fact that you were the only one naked.

if abby didn’t care, then neither did you.

“you okay, baby? wasn’t too rough with you, was i?” abby asked, her thumb circling your cheek. you smiled up at her, a rush of butterflies soaring inside your abdomen at the small rasp in the way she cooed.

“no, abs. not at all. i mean, i always knew you got jealous, but—wow,” you couldn’t help your giggle.

abby feigned annoyance by giving you an eye roll, but you could tell that she was just being playful. besides, it’s not like she could deny the fact. so she smirked. “what can i say? you just have that effect on me. besides, you have to admit—clara was way too close for comfort.”

“mmhm,” you hum.

“but maybe that was a good thing.”

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

reblogs are very much welcomed <3

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