#wlw gif

[mprideflies]

WHY NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT CAITVI HOLDING HANDS IN THIS SCENE

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

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

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

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

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

You stayed home with your daughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one had guessed the truth.

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

First stop: the nursery.

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s my superstar,” you teased.

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saturdays had a different feel now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do it, Mama! Be brave!”

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

Both of them screamed.

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

“I trusted you!” she cried.

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

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

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

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

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

“Tired?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

As she closed the door, you caught her hand.

“Hey,” you murmured, tugging her in.

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

“Thank you,” you whispered against her temple.

“For what?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait… hold up.”

You turned toward the voice just as Paige froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“OUR?!”

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

NaLyssa blinked. “Mama?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nudged her playfully. “Kinda is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked at Paige, your eyes softening.

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

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

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

There was a beat of silence.

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

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

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

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

You gasped. “Paige!”

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

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

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

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

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

You all clinked glasses.

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

Not just because of what you had with Paige.

But because of everything you’d built together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few players paused their drills, doing double takes.

“Is that…?”

“Oh my god, she’s here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She did great,” you whispered.

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

You looked up at her. “About what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked up from your coffee. “Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

Cut to:

Paige tying her daughter’s shoes on the bench

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

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

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

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

And then…

Overlay text at the end: “Family.”

The comments? Unhinged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The camera caught Paige’s hand finding yours.

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

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

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

“Mama was all she knew Paige to be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay with it?” she asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The arena melted.

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

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

The ovation was deafening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You walked back downstairs together, hand in hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Paige’s phone buzzed from the coffee table.

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

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

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

You looked up, already grinning. “Azzi?”

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

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

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

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

[imnotkaizer]

LOLLIPOP .ᐟ PAIGE B.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sucking on that lollipop like a slut while looking at her.

You are perched on a cushioned chair a bright red lollipop in hand the sweet tang of cherry lingering on your tongue.

Across from you paige bueckers your secret girlfriend is slouched in her seat trying to focus on KK, whos in the middle of a dramatic retelling of some chaotic team prank gone wrong.

Paige is nodding along her long legs stretched out her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun. her focus is slipping and you are the reason why.

You are leaning forward just enough to catch her eye twirling the lollipop against your lips before giving it a slow deliberate lick.

Your eyes are locked on hers unapologetic a wicked grin tugging at your mouth.

You know your pushing it looking at her with that teasing, provocative stare sucking on the lollipop with purpose letting the wet sound of it linger just loud enough for her to notice.

Your not playing fair, and you love it.

Paige’s eyes flicker to you and you catch the heat in her gaze the kind of stare thats half warning half something else entirely.

Her lips part slightly and she shifts in her seat her fingers drumming on the armrest.

She’s trying so hard to keep it together to focus on KK’s story but you’re making it *impossible*.

You tilt your head letting your gaze rake over her from her flushed cheeks to the way her hoodie hangs loose on her frame and you know she feels it.

“Yo, Paige, you hearin’ me?” KK says, pausing to snap her fingers in front of paige’s face. “You look like your in another dimension!”

Paige blinks, forcing a laugh “Yeah, my bad im listening” she says her voice a little too tight. She shoots you a quick, pointed look— but you just smirk, popping the lollipop out of your mouth with a soft, intentional sound.

You drag your tongue across it again keeping your eyes glued to hers daring her to look away.

KK keeps talking oblivious, but paige is barely holding on.

Her stare lingers on you now her blue eyes darkening with that familiar mix of frustration and want.

You can see her jaw tighten her fingers gripping the edge of her seat, shes giving you *those* stares— the ones that say she’s already imagining what happens when your alone—but you dont let up. You lean back, crossing your legs, letting the lollipop dangle from your fingers for a moment before bringing it back to your lips, sucking slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“You good, P?” you ask, your voice dripping with fake innocence just loud enough for her to hear over KK’s chatter.

You raise an eyebrow twirling the lollipop again, and you swear you see her breath hitch.

Paige mutters something under her breath shaking her head as she tries to refocus on KK whos now mimicking someones reaction to the prank.

“Girl, your actin’ weird” KK says, laughing but she doesnt press it, too caught up in her story.

You take it up a notch leaning forward now, resting your chin in your hand the lollipop grazing your lips as you stare at paige like shes the only one in the room.

You know your laying it on thick looking at her with that sultry teasing edge, like your daring her to do something about it right here right now.

Her eyes are on you again and this time she doesn’t look away.

Her stare is intense a silent promise that your in for it later but you just keep going licking the lollipop one last time before smirking and biting your lip.

KK’s phone buzzes, and she glances at it “Ugh, I gotta go meet Ice for something. Catch you later, P” she says, hopping up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She waves at you completely unaware of the tension crackling between you and paige, and heads out.

The second KK’s gone, Paige leans forward her voice low and laced with exasperation. “your such a brat” she says “your lucky we’re in public.”

You shrug popping the lollipop back in your mouth giving her one last teasing look. “Who, me? Just enjoying my lollipop, babe.”

She shakes her head, standing up and grabbing her backpack her eyes never leaving yours. “Keep playin’ ” she murmurs stepping closer her voice dropping. “You’ll see what happens when we’re alone.”

You grin, unfazed knowing you’ve got her exactly where you want her rattled, wanting, and counting down the minutes until she can make good on that promise.

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @slaybaddietaytay @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz @bueckersworld @paiges-1vur

[lezkissgifs]

[littlelovelunette]

Filthy Troublemaker (2)

⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ Ambessa Medarda x Fem!Reader x Sevika ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆

Sugar mommies!Ambessa Medarda and Sevika, threesome, sex, implied passing out, fingering, mommy kink, sucking dildo, begging, mild degradation, throat fucking, mild smacking, sado maso dynamics, choking, manhandling, orgasm control, cold!Ambessa

Your eyes fluttered open, body barely containing enough energy to get off the floor. The cold marble floor was stuck to your tear-dampened cheek, your eyes moving to survey the surroundings in an attempt to read the room. Were they still mad at you? Or had their anger simmered down?

Your eyes met Ambessa's cold golden ones and you knew she wasn't done with you just yet. She grabbed your throat and heaved you up, dropping you onto the bed. Your hands reached for the mark that formed on your neck from her rough handling.

“I'm sorry,” you croaked out weakly but she wasn't listening.

Sevika reached for the bottle of lube resting on the bedside table, and picked it up. She opened the cap and tilted it, coating your lower body with the lubricant.

“There we go,” she muttered under her breath before taking a step back and looking down at your trembling form. Ambessa's big hands worked to spread the lube out on your vulva, massaging it onto the skin.

You moaned when she rubbed your clit, her hands working methodically as she pushed in two thick fingers. Even if your pussy had taken those big dildos just a bit ago, Ambessa's fingers felt as big as ever. You clenched around her invading digits, a schlick sound issuing from your pussy.

Ambessa chuckled. “Easy, little one. Relax. I'm not planning on hurting you, yet.”

You tried your best to let your body react but it just didn't comply. Ambessa’s thick fingers coerced out more wetness, moving in and out at a steady pace. Your thighs were shaky as you fought to keep them open because closing them would just mean you're earning yourself another round of ruthless punishment.

“Mommy, I'm sorry,” you screamed when Ambessa roughly shoved in a third finger.

“Quiet, girl,” Sevika snapped at you instantly, silencing your helpless sobs.

“Mommy,” you called in a weak voice, desperate to try to get Ambessa's pity if not Sevika's. Sevika rolled her eyes, grey eyes trained on Ambessa's scarred back for her reaction but Ambessa's lips were sit in a tight thin line, her fingers twisting in your pussy making you scream out again. “It’s too much! Mommy, please! I'll be good, I promise, I'll be good!”

Sevika cut your cries out, shoving one of the dildos Ambessa used on you in your mouth. It still tasted like you.

“What a bratty bitch.” Sevika said, forcing you to deepthroat the toy, “Keep tellin’ ya’ to shut it but you never listen, do you?”

Your eyes closed tightly in pleasure, moaning around the dildo as you squeezed your gummy walls around Ambessa's fingers.

“I'm gonna cum,” you said in a muffled voice, voice incoherent due to the toy in your mouth, shivering and whimpering.

Ambessa’s lip purse deepened as she curled her fingers just right, dragging them slowly against that sensitive spot inside you. "Don't cum,” Ambessa commanded. Sevika smirked, enjoying the dynamic as she eased the phallic toy out of your mouth.

“Wh-what?” Your voice stuttered.

“I said, don't cum.” Ambessa repeated before she pushed in all three fingers knuckles deep.

You bucked your hips instinctively as your thighs trembled. Every nerve in your body screamed with pressure, tension coiling tighter and tighter.

“I can't hold it, mommy, please,” you begged. “I really can't, I can't!”

Sevika huffed and put the dildo back in your mouth, muffling your whines. Your face twisted, gagging around the big toy as you were forced to taste yourself again. Ambessa's fingers weren't fast paced but they were deep, and slow. It was perfect, so perfect you wanted to cum.

Your thighs came together, right then— Ambessa smacked your inner thigh, “Open.” She commanded.

“C-can't,” you mumbled around the dildo but Ambessa smacked your inner thigh again, your legs fell open and her fingers reached deeper, rubbing against your g-spot deliciously.

Your tongue wrapped around the dildo, pussy clenching up around Ambessa's fingers again.

Sevika chuckled, “Wanna cum badly, huh?”

You nodded weakly, whimpering when Sevika's other hand grabbed your jaw, thrusting the silicone dick in and out of your mouth mercilessly. You choked on your own spit, drool running down your face as you struggled to keep up with her. Eventually, you lost it and finished all over Ambessa's fingers, body locking in place for a few seconds. Your body shook, pleasure crashing over you in uncontrollable waves as Ambessa kept her pace steady, relentless, milking every second of your climax.

Your eyes fluttered close, you were too tired to continue. "Please," you said incoherently. Maybe, just maybe they'd stop now.

[forsapphics]

BATWOMAN (2019 - 2022)

S03, E11: Broken Toys — directed by Camrus Johnson

[bueckersworld]

AFTER THE LIGHTS

SYNOPSIS: on the night of paige’s wnba draft, the spotlight is on her—but all she sees is you. from a public kiss on national tv, to a private night full of passion and promises, the two of you celebrate her biggest moment yet, wrapped in pride, love, and the kind of intimacy that makes the world fall away. — REQUEST

WARNINGS: smut — mdni, pussy eating (r!receiving)

WORD COUNT: 2.2k. info. masterlist. taglist.

────୨ৎ────

the ballroom is buzzing, the energy electric, but you barely hear a thing. not after she walked in.

you’d been sitting at one of the small tables off to the side, nursing a flute of champagne, trying to stay out of the way and out of the spotlight. you’re used to paige drawing all the attention—it’s been that way since the day you met her—but nothing prepared you for this.

the room had gone still the second she entered.

jet-black suit hugging her frame just right. collar dusted with shimmer. no shirt underneath—just a teasing expanse of toned skin, a dip between her collarbones that made your breath catch. and jewelry. so much jewelry. rings, earrings, chains stacked at her neck like she knew exactly what she was doing. her hair was down, soft waves falling over her shoulders, framing a face that looked too unreal to be walking around on earth.

you blinked, and the world came back in pieces—voices, music, cameras flashing. but you didn’t move.

she spotted you across the room, gave you that look—one brow lifted slightly, corners of her mouth twitching up like she knew exactly what kind of power she held over you. and she did. she always had.

but tonight? tonight she knew you were weak for her, and she was playing with it.

by the time she made it across the room to you, you were barely holding it together. you stood, hands shaking just a little, not sure if you were supposed to hug her or just stare at her forever.

“hey,” she said, like she hadn’t just ruined you.

your eyes flicked down to the deep cut of her blazer and back up. “seriously?” you whispered, leaning in. “you’re gonna show up looking like that?”

she smirked. “you like it?”

you swallowed hard. “unfortunately, yes.”

paige stepped closer, brushing her hand down your arm in a way that looked innocent but set your skin on fire. “you’re supposed to be proud of me tonight,” she teased. “not flustered.”

“i am proud,” you said, voice lower. “just also very distracted.”

the moment held—close enough to kiss, close enough to forget where you were—but she pulled back, linking her fingers with yours instead. “come on,” she said, tugging you toward the crowd. “let’s celebrate.”

⸻

she got picked early, like everyone expected. cameras panned to her the moment her name was called, and you stood right behind her as she hugged her family, the coaching staff, her agent, and then you.

you didn’t expect her to kiss you on live tv.

just a quick one. soft, but sure. one hand on your waist, one tucked behind your neck, pulling you in with that quiet confidence only she had. you barely heard the commentators lose their minds as you melted into her.

after the buzz, after the cameras moved on to the next pick, paige didn’t let you go far. her hand stayed at the small of your back, occasionally trailing up to your shoulder or down to your hip. you couldn’t stop glancing at her—how her jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass under the lights, how the diamonds at her neck sparkled every time she moved, how the silk lapel of her blazer parted just so.

she leaned into your ear while people around you clinked glasses. “you keep staring like that and i’m gonna think you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

you blinked at her. “i absolutely am.”

that grin again. mischievous, knowing. “noted.”

⸻

later that night, when the room started emptying out and the adrenaline wore off, paige found you again, this time with two drinks in hand and a tired kind of softness in her eyes.

“come with me,” she said.

you didn’t ask where. you just followed.

she led you out through the back of the ballroom and into the hallway, heels clicking against polished marble as the night quieted behind you. you made it to the elevator, and when the doors closed, she finally let the front drop.

“i’m exhausted,” she said, leaning her head back against the elevator wall.

you tilted your head. “mentally or physically?”

paige gave you a lopsided smile. “both. but mostly emotionally. it’s… a lot.”

you stepped closer, resting your hand on her chest gently. “i’m proud of you. so proud i can’t even put it into words.”

she looked down at you, eyes softening. “you’ve been with me through all of it,” she said. “i wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

“you would’ve,” you said, shaking your head. “but i’m glad i got to be there. every second of it.”

when the elevator opened onto your floor, she reached for your hand again without even thinking. her fingers felt cool against yours, her rings clicking lightly. you followed her down the hallway, heart hammering, every step filled with anticipation.

you both stepped into her hotel room. door shut. lights dim.

then, silence.

you stood there for a second, just watching her. the way she tugged her rings off slowly, setting them down on the nightstand. you stared again. you didn’t even try to hide it.

she noticed.

“still distracted?” she asked.

you nodded. “you have no idea.”

paige crossed the room in a few slow steps and stopped right in front of you. one hand lifted to your jaw, thumb brushing just under your lip. her voice dipped low. “i think i do.”

she kissed you like she meant it. no stage, no cameras. just her mouth on yours, slow and deep and dizzying. you leaned into her, hands finding her waist, the smooth fabric of her pants beneath your fingers. you could feel her smile against your lips.

“you looked so good tonight,” you murmured.

her hands slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against her. “only for you.”

you blinked at her. “liar.”

she laughed softly. “okay. maybe a little bit for the league.”

you kissed her again before she could say anything else. this time longer. hungrier. your fingers curled into her hair, tugging gently until she sighed into your mouth.

eventually, she pulled away and rested her forehead against yours. “i can’t believe it’s over,” she whispered.

you cupped her face. “it’s not over. it’s just starting.”

she kissed you again, something possessive in the way her lips moved against yours—slow, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

your hands slid down her blazer, nails grazing the glitter-covered collar, tugging her closer until there was no space left between you.

paige’s lips barely left yours when she started to move, trailing along your jaw and down your neck, leaving behind heat and shivers in her wake.

“fuck, you’re so pretty, baby,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, hands gliding up the tops of your thighs to grip your hips tight.

her fingers found the zipper of your dress and dragged it down slowly, teasing, letting the straps slip off your shoulders one by one until the fabric dropped to the floor in a soft heap. your bra followed a second later, unclasped without effort, her gaze never once leaving your face.

you didn’t even get a chance to breathe before she was pushing you back onto the bed, her lips returning to your neck, then lower—pressing warm kisses across your collarbone, your sternum, your stomach…

she dropped to her knees between your legs, spreading them gently, like she was opening a gift.

then she looked up at you—eyes dark, hungry—with that smug little smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“i got you this wet, huh?” she whispered, dragging your panties down painfully slow. “just me?”

you nodded, breath hitching. “only you—”

“mm,” she hummed, leaning in and wrapping her lips around your clit without warning.

your hips bucked up immediately, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat.

her tongue flicked across you deliberately, groaning against your skin like the taste alone could drive her mad. “so fuckin’ sweet,” she muttered, licking deeper, messier, hungrier.

“mmph—paige…” you moaned, arching your back, your head falling back against the pillows as pleasure rolled through you in thick waves.

her hands held your thighs open, fingers gripping hard enough to leave marks as she devoured you like she hadn’t eaten in days. she didn’t stop. not when you begged her to slow down. not when your legs started trembling. she needed you—desperately, fiercely, like she was proving something.

“paige—please…” you whimpered, fisting her hair as the tension built too fast, too strong.

and then she gave you more.

two fingers slipped inside you, curling just right, syncing with the rhythm of her mouth.

“oh fuck—!” you cried out, your back arching so high you nearly came off the bed. her fingers fucked you hard, steady, curling deeper with every thrust.

“tell me this pussy’s mine,” she growled against you, lips brushing your clit between words.

you choked on a moan. “it’s yours—it’s all yours, paige…”

she moaned into you, tongue circling your clit again, and that was it.

you shattered—legs trembling, body shaking, a cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slammed into you hard. it stole the air from your lungs, left you boneless beneath her.

paige didn’t move right away. she slowed her fingers gently, working you through every aftershock, peppering soft kisses along your inner thighs as she finally pulled away.

she rested her head on your stomach, arms wrapped around your hips, just holding you for a moment.

“you good?” she asked softly, voice thick and low.

you ran your fingers through her hair, still panting. “you’re insane…”

she smiled against your skin. “only for you.”

you laughed breathlessly, tugging her up until she was lying beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. she leaned in, kissed your shoulder, then your cheek, then your lips again—gentler this time, like she was kissing you back to life.

and when you curled into her chest, heart still racing, she whispered, “told you i needed you.”

⸻

later, when you were curled up beside her in bed, the city lights casting gold against her skin, paige traced lazy circles on your bare arm. she looked thoughtful, her brows pinched just slightly.

“what’s going on in that brain?” you asked.

she hesitated. “what if it all changes now? what if the travel, the pressure, the distance… what if it pulls us apart?”

you shook your head immediately. “it won’t.”

“you say that like it’s easy.”

“no, i say that because i know what we have. and i know i’d never let that happen.”

paige rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. “promise?”

“always,” you said.

she kissed your shoulder. “you’re stuck with me now, you know.”

“i’ve been stuck,” you teased.

her fingers trailed down your spine. “good.”

silence settled again, but it wasn’t heavy. it was full. full of everything you couldn’t say out loud in the chaos of earlier. full of all the looks you shared across the room, all the words you whispered into her neck, all the pride you felt watching her live her dream.

you looked at her then, really looked at her. her long lashes, her flushed cheeks, the slow rise and fall of her chest. you knew this was just the beginning. new cities, new teams, new challenges. but you also knew you’d be there. front row, always.

she turned to you just before falling asleep and whispered, “thank you for loving me through everything.”

and you whispered back, “always.”

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ guys i am SOO sorry i haven’t posted in a while!! ive been really busy lately and haven’t had time to post!! deepest apologies

taglist: @imnotkaizer @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

[chipsandtuna]

Me and gf fr

where?

[lanschpaket]

CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS LITTLE DETAIL DURING THE SESBIAN LEX SCENE?!

THAT VI GOES ON HER TIP TOES?!?!

JUST SO SHE CAN NUZZLE HER FACE INTO CAIT'S SHOULDER?!?!?

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚍𝚘 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞? || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which she forgets but fate doesn't

The hospital lights are always too bright.

Sterile. Cold. Clinical. Nothing like the warmth you used to feel wrapped up in Paige’s arms after a long day, her voice soft against your ear, whispering about dreams and game plans and how lucky she felt to have you.

But now, the only sound that echoes in the room is the beeping of monitors. A rhythm you’ve come to hate because it means she’s alive—but not whole.

She’s been awake for three days.

Three long, agonizing days since the doctors told you the words you never thought you’d hear. Partial retrograde amnesia. A fancy way of saying: She doesn’t remember you.

She remembered basketball. Her coach. Her teammates. Her stats.

But not you.

Not the woman who held her through every injury. Not the woman who kissed her forehead before every game. Not the woman who stood in the stands with her jersey on and tears in her eyes every time she made history.

And the worst part?

She didn’t even seem to want to.

Every time you tried to talk to her, to offer something—anything—to make it come back, she would shrink further into herself. Polite, but distant. Guarded.

You told yourself to be patient. To give her time. Love is supposed to wait, right?

But then her parents pulled you aside.

Her mom couldn’t meet your eyes. Her dad’s voice was gentle but firm.

“Maybe it’s best,” he said, “if you give her some space.”

“She’s overwhelmed,” her mom added. “She’s trying to focus on healing. And you being here… it’s a lot.”

You felt like your heart had been ripped out and handed to you in a sterile hospital hallway.

“But I—” you started, but your voice cracked.

“She doesn’t remember you,” her dad said softly. “Maybe it’s time you start healing too.”

And just like that, you were being erased.

You left UConn a week later.

You couldn’t stay. Not in that gym where you used to shoot around after practice together. Not in that dorm where her laughter used to echo through the halls, tangled up with yours.

You entered the transfer portal.

A week after that, you were headed to UCLA.

New coast. New team. New life.

Except it wasn’t really a life at all.

Because every morning you woke up without her. Every night you fell asleep trying to forget the way she used to whisper I love you against your shoulder.

And Paige?

Paige healed.

She recovered. She rejoined practice. And every now and then, she’d ask her parents, “Hey… that girl that used to sit by my bed. Who was she?”

Her parents would smile too tightly. “Oh, just someone from school,” they’d say. “Don’t worry about it.” “Focus on your future.”

So she tried. She buried the questions. Tried to push past the shadow of a memory she couldn’t reach.

It’s been a year.

Final Four. UConn vs. UCLA.

Of course it comes down to this. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

You spot her across the court during warmups.

Paige Bueckers. Back in form. Confident. Deadly. Beautiful in a way that still makes your chest ache.

She doesn’t see you. Or maybe she does and doesn’t know what you mean.

You play your heart out. Every cut, every drive, every shot—there’s fire behind it. But it’s not enough. UConn takes the win.

And then it’s the handshake line.

You don’t know what’s worse—the idea of touching her again, or the idea of not.

She reaches for your hand. Her fingers close around yours.

You look up.

Her eyes meet yours. And something flickers.

A spark. A ghost of recognition. A heartbeat caught in her throat.

“Good game,” she says automatically, her voice hoarse from emotion.

You nod, lips trembling. “You too.”

You try to let go first, but she holds on a second longer. Like maybe she doesn’t want to let go.

Like maybe she knows.

But you pull away with a small smile and walk off.

You don’t look back. You can’t. Because the tears are already falling.

That night, Paige can’t sleep.

She’s tossing and turning in the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, the handshake replaying in her mind on a loop.

Then she starts seeing flashes.

Not highlights. Not plays.

You.

Laughing in the passenger seat of her car, your hand hanging out the window. Falling asleep on her chest after late practices. Sneaking out of hotels for midnight milkshakes before big games. Crying in her arms after your first big loss together. The way she used to kiss the inside of your wrist like it was sacred.

Your voice echoing in her head:

"You make everything feel lighter."

And then— Pain. Sharp and raw. Like her heart’s been waiting all year to remember and now it finally does.

She sits up with a gasp, chest heaving.

And she remembers everything.

The accident. The look on your face when she didn’t know your name. The way you held her hand even when she pulled away. The way you loved her even when she forgot.

And the day you left—eyes red, voice shaking, whispering, “If you ever remember me… I hope it’s the good parts.”

She buries her face in her hands and sobs. Gut-wrenching, soul-breaking sobs.

Because she remembers now. She remembers you. And she let you walk away.

She remembers everything now.

It hits her like a freight train the moment she wakes up, drenched in sweat and tears, clutching the sheets like they’re the only thing tethering her to the world.

You.

Your laugh. Your touch. The way you used to whisper “we’ve got this” before every game like you were casting a spell.

She remembers the accident. The way you used to sit by her bedside, silently praying for a miracle.

She remembers the confusion in your eyes every time she said, “Do I know you?” The way your shoulders slumped just a little more each day.

And then— Your goodbye. Your eyes red. Voice cracking. That whisper— "If you ever remember me… I hope it’s the good parts."

She needs to find you.

Now.

She jumps out of bed, heart racing, hands shaking as she fumbles with her phone.

Instagram. Blocked. Twitter. Blocked. TikTok. Blocked. Message. Green bubble. No profile picture. No read receipts. Just a wall where there used to be warmth.

She searches your name again, as if something might’ve changed in the last five seconds.

Nothing. You’re gone.

She stares at the screen like it might apologize.

Like it might undo what her silence, her forgetting, has cost her.

She runs to her parent’s hotel room like she’s being chased, the ache in her chest growing with every mile. The moment she steps through the door, her mom’s face pales.

“You remember,” her mom says softly.

Paige nods, jaw tight. “Everything.”

Her dad shifts uncomfortably. “Paige, we didn’t mean to—”

“You told her to leave, didn’t you?” Her voice is hoarse now. Breaking. “You told the love of my life to walk away from me.”

“You were overwhelmed,” her mom defends gently. “You didn’t recognize her, and she was—”

“She was mine!” Paige snaps, the tears already welling in her eyes. “She waited by my bed every day, and you treated her like she was some stranger trying to mess with me.”

Her mom’s lip trembles. “We thought we were helping—”

“You weren’t. You took her from me.”

She’s crying now. Full-on sobs she can’t control. Her knees buckle and she sinks to the kitchen floor, head in her hands.

Her dad kneels beside her, reaching to touch her shoulder, but she flinches away.

“She left because she loved me,” she chokes out. “And now I’ve lost her for good.”

Championship night.

It’s everything she dreamed of.

Confetti falls from the rafters. Cameras flash. Reporters crowd the court. The trophy’s heavy in her arms, shining under the lights.

But all she feels is empty.

Because you’re not there.

Not in the stands wearing her jersey. Not on the court, jumping into her arms. Not waiting in the tunnel with your arms wide and your smile even wider.

You’re nowhere.

She stands there, holding the championship trophy, and the moment the cameras pull away, she breaks.

Sinks to the hardwood, sobbing so hard her chest shakes.

Azzi and KK rush to her, but there’s nothing they can do. Nothing anyone can do.

Because she won it. The dream you built together. The thing you used to whisper about under blankets and after practice and in quiet corners of the world. “We’ll win one together. Just wait.”

You waited. You believed. And she forgot you.

And now you’re gone.

Later, alone in the locker room, she scrolls through your old messages.

The ones she didn’t delete. The ones she couldn’t.

"I believe in you always." "You’re not alone. Not ever." "We’re going to make it, babe. I promise."

She clutches her phone to her chest and cries again. The trophy sits on the bench beside her, shining quietly.

But it doesn’t mean a damn thing.

Because she won.

But she lost you.

It’s been a week.

Seven days since the championship. Since the confetti. Since Paige collapsed in the locker room clutching a trophy in one hand and her heart in the other.

She hasn’t stopped thinking about you. You, who should’ve been on the court beside her. You, who used to trace plays on her back with your fingers at night, whispering “When we win it all…” like it was gospel.

But you weren’t there.

And the silence is louder than any celebration ever could be.

She’s sitting in the back of a black SUV on the way to the WNBA Draft, staring at the world outside the window, eyes glazed over.

Azzi’s next to her, buzzing with nerves and excitement. Paige should be too. She’s projected to go first. Her dream is about to come true.

But her hands are cold. Her throat’s dry. Because the person she wanted to celebrate with most— Is gone.

And she doesn’t know if she’ll ever see you again.

You told yourself you wouldn’t come. You’d done the whole disappearing act flawlessly—blocked numbers, wiped socials, cut the thread before it could pull you back in.

But then the day arrived, and you couldn’t stay away.

So now you’re here.

Not in the front row. Not on the list. But tucked away in the back of the venue in jeans and a hoodie, hood up like maybe that’ll hide the way your heart is thudding in your chest.

You just wanted to see her one last time.

The lights dim. The commissioner steps up to the mic.

“With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Dallas Wings select…”

You hold your breath.

“Paige Bueckers, from University of Connecticut.”

The crowd explodes.

You’re on your feet before you know it, clapping with your whole soul, because God, you’re proud of her.

Because no matter the distance, no matter the heartbreak— You always believed in her.

She walks across the stage, hugs her parents, accepts the jersey, does the interview.

And for a moment, you let yourself imagine an alternate world. One where you're up there with her. Where she never forgot. Where you never left.

But you blink and it’s gone.

You’re halfway to the exit when the commissioner returns to the podium.

You pause.

Probably just the last few names. Filler. Nothing that concerns you.

“…and with the 30th pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft…”

You check your phone, already mentally checking out.

“The Dallas Wings select…”

You look up absently.

“…Y/N L/N, from University of California Los Angeles.”

Your heart stops.

You freeze. Eyes wide. Mouth open.

No. That— That has to be a mistake.

You barely played this year. You didn’t go to any pre-draft camps. You only declared because your coaches pushed you to. You didn’t even think you’d get a look.

And now— Now you're drafted?

By Dallas?

The same team as Paige?

The same Paige who’s sitting with the commentators, still soaking up the high of being drafted first overall, smiling through interviews — until your name’s announced.

You see it in real time. Her whole body freezes.

The mic drops a little in her hand. Her head snaps toward the screen behind her, where your face flashes beside your name.

She doesn’t even blink.

Because she heard it. She felt it.

Just like you did.

After taking your picture, you’re pulled into a different room, mind still i overdrive, not being to comprehend much yet. As you walk in, there she was — looking beautiful in her suit.

You don't know what to expect. A handshake? A nod? Maybe just silence?

But as soon as you reach her— She steps forward and pulls you into a hug.

Tight. Shaking. Desperate.

And suddenly you're back in her arms, back in the place you never thought you'd be again.

"I prayed for a second chance," she whispers in your ear. "And you showed up."

You swallow the lump in your throat, gripping the back of her jersey like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

“I didn’t think I’d get drafted,” you murmur. “Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. There's glassiness there, but also something else—something soft and fierce and real.

“I’m not losing you again,” she says, voice thick with tears.

You can’t trust yourself to speak. So you just nod. Because maybe this time, fate is finally on your side.

[imnotkaizer]

Paige Bueckers | Webcam Pornstar Reader

➟ paige being your anonymous client in one random night. who generously paid you a big amount after you fulfilled her nasty requests. a few weeks after. she recognized you at the same campus just as charming as you are in your webcam. now she was damn sure she was going to have a taste seeing how hot you are in personal.

smut. nudty exposure. paige pinning u for a few days. public sex. strap on. — this is kinda insane dk whats gotten on my mind

The fluorescent lights of your cramped UConn dorm room buzzed faintly casting a sterile glow over the clutter of textbooks, empty coffee mugs and a laptop that had seen better days.

It was late and the connecticut winter pressed against the window, a relentless chill seeping through the glass.

You were a sophomore at UConn majoring in biology, with dreams of medical school and a life beyond the constant grind of scraping by.

But dreams didnt pay the bills, your financial aid package had fallen short this semester, and your part-time job at the campus coffee shop barely covered textbooks. let alone rent or food.

Your parents couldnt help, your mom was a single parent working two jobs and your younger siblings needed her more than you did.

Pride kept you from asking for handouts but desperation was a powerful motivator.

You’d sold your old clothes skipped meals and even considered dropping out.

Then, one sleepless night you stumbled across a darker solution.

A classmate had mentioned it in passing half joking during a late night study session "You know, some girls make bank doing webcam stuff. It# not like you’re meeting anyone in person. Just a camera and a screen."

At the time you laughed it off, vut the idea lingered festering in the back of your mind as your bank account dwindled to single digits.

You researched it in secret heart pounding weighing the risks against the promise of quick cash.

It was anonymous you told yourself no one would ever know, you signed up for a platform under a pseudonym —SlyVixen— and set up your webcam, your dorm room carefully rearranged to hide any identifying details.

A cheap ring light and a borrowed tpp transformed you into someone else, The first night was terrifying your hands shaking as you logged on, but the tips rolled in faster than you’d expected.

Strangers paid to watch to chat to make requests, and you learned quickly how to play the part.

It wasnt about you it was about the fantasy, and the money—God the money—was enough to keep you afloat.

The faint hum of your laptop fan filled the quiet of your UConn dorm room a small sanctuary of chaos tucked away on the third floor of a residence hall.

You sat before your webcam your reflection in the laptops preview window both familiar and foreign.

SlyVixen stared back a persona crafted with meticulous care, the soft glow of a ring light you bought secondhand your lips painted a bold crimson, curved in a practiced smile, and a sweep of eyeliner accentuated your eyes, making them seem larger.

You wore a lace trimmed camisole in deep sapphire its delicate straps slipping just enough to suggest allure without crossing into vulnerability, paired with silk shorts that whispered against your skin as you shifted in your chair.

Behind you, a navy curtain draped across the wall concealed the telltale signs of your real life no UConn Huskies posters, no stray socks no evidence of the sophomore biology major who was one missed payment away from eviction.

The scent of lavender lingered in the air a candle flickering on your nightstand in a futile attempt to soothe the knot of anxiety in your chest.

You lit it an hour ago hoping its calming fragrance would steady your nerves but the weight of what you were about to do pressed harder.

Now your fingers hovered over the keyboard your pulse quickening as the platforms interface blinked with a new notification

"a private session request from AnonClient125."

The username was a sterile string of numbers and letters revealing nothing but the promise of payment steadied your resolves.

You adjusted the ring light its glow softening the edges of your face, and checked your setup one last time the curtain secure the wig in place your voice ready to slip into the sultry cadence you perfected.

With a deep breath you clicked “Accept” and the webcam feed flickered to life.

The clients screen was blank their camera disabled leaving only a black void where their face should have been.

A voice came through your headphones low and smooth with a faint connecticut accent that stirred a vague sense of familiarity, though you couldnt place it.

“Hey, vixen.” they said voice warm, carrying a hint of a smirk. “You look good, First night, huh?” The compliment hit softly their confidence catching you off guard.

You leaned closer slipping into vixen’s sultry purr though your heart hammered.

“Thanks, mystery guest” you said tilting your head “Your my first, so lets make it worth it. Whats on your mind?”

They chuckled a low, easy sound that loosened your nerves slightly “Aight, you already got me feelin’ some type of way” they said,voice dipping with a playful intensity.

“Start slow, Move for me, let me see you. But dont hold back I want you to get bold, make it feel real.”

The request was direct edging toward explicit their sparse slang adding a layer of boldness.

Your breath caught the line between performance and vulnerability thinning.

This was your first session and they were already pushing their tone coaxing yet commanding.

Part of you wanted to disconnect the intimacy too raw but the looming rent and their voice warm and persuasive held you, you could do this.

“You move fast, dont you?” you said voice teasing buying a moment to steady yourself.

You stood hips swaying to the faint beats from your phone, fingers grazing the camisoles straps.

“Alright, mystery you want bold? ive got you.” You moved deliberately letting one strap slip the camisole catching on your curves before sliding to your waist revealing just enough to tease.

Their breath hitched a soft “Damn, thats it” slipping through their voice rougher now.

You turned hips rolling hands tracing your sides your thighs keeping it fluid but controlled your heart pounding as their chat blinked—

Their breathing grew heavier, a faint rustle audible through the mic and then their voice lower, more strained. “your killin’ me” they said a quiet edge of need creeping in.

“Touch yourself slow, like your feelin’ it. im… im touchin’ myself too, want you to know what your doin’ to me.”

The admission hit like a spark vivid and raw Paige, AnonClient125, was fingering herself her voice betraying the rhythm of her movements subtle but unmistakable.

Your skin flushed the image flashing unbidden in your mind their words carrying a quiet hunger that made your pulse race.

You hesitated fingers hovering, the dorms chill clashing with the heat under your skin.

This was beyond what you prepped for, but the platforms counter ticked—$50 $75— and you saw rent, groceries, survival.

“Like this?” you murmured voice husky channeling vixen’s confidence while your mind reeled.

You sank into the chair legs parting slightly hands moving slow tracing your skin following their rhythm.

“You feelin’ me, huh? tell me how its hittin’ you.” Their breath caught a soft moan slipping through barely audible but electric.

“Damn, Vixen you got me fucked up" they said voice thick strained their words punctuated by the faint sound of their movements.

“Feels so good, you are makin’ me lose it. keep goin’ tell me you want this too.”

You leaned back hands roaming voice dropping to a whisper the performance edging into something realer.

“I’m feelin’ it.” you said eyes half-closed their voice and faint moans filling the void.

“Wish you could see how your gettin’ to me how im movin’ for you, you’d like that, wouldnt you?”

“Yeah, i would” they groaned voice breaking slightly their rhythm audible in the tightening of their words.

“Your too good, vixen, show me more, make it real.”

Your fingers moved bolder a gasp escaping their mouth

“Damn, thats perfect” and soft breathy sounds pushing you further.

The line blurred work, desire, fear, need their voice and actions a guide pulling you under.

The session hit thirty minutes your skin flushed breath uneven when they spoke again voice softer but still edged. “you're insane" they said almost reverent their breathing slowing a faint shudder in their voice suggesting theyd reached their peak.

A notification flashed a $500 tip staggering a lifeline.

Your eyes widened relief crashing through the haze.

“Oh, wow” you breathed mic still on, voice raw unguarded.

They laughed warm and easy.

“Worth every cent, you got me hooked, catch you next time aight?”

The call ended screen dark and you sat trembling, the candles flame flickering.

Their voice their explicit actions the $500 it lingered a spark you couldnt douse.

You closed the laptop heart racing knowing AnonClient125 had shifted something even if you werent ready to face it yet.

The campus was a study in contrasts the first tentative buds of spring pushing through frost dusted soil the air still sharp enough to sting your cheeks and the frenetic energy of midterm season clashing with the electric buzz of the upcoming women’s basketball games.

The Student Union was a hive of activity its glass walls fogged with the warmth of too many bodies the scent of burnt coffee and pizza grease hanging heavy in the air.

Students sprawled across tables laptops open highlighters bleeding neon across textbook pages while others queued at the smoothie bar their laughter cutting through the low hum of conversation.

Outside the quad was dusted with a thin layer of snow the kind that melted on contact but left the grass glistening under the pale midday sun.

You sat at a corner table in the Union your biology textbook splayed open to a chapter on cellular respiration though your eyes kept drifting to the notebook beside it, where you scribbled a budget in the margins

$600 rent, $150 textbooks, $50 groceries if you skipped lunch again.

The $500 tip from AnonClient125 three weeks ago had been a lifeline but it was already dwindling and the thought of logging back onto the webcam platform tonight sent a familiar knot of dread twisting in your stomach.

You wore a faded UConn sweatshirt its cuffs frayed from nervous picking.

Your study group was a loose collection of classmates their voices a steady backdrop as they debated enzyme kinetics.

You were half listening your pen tapping rhythmically against your notebook when a new voice cut through the noise low, confident, with that faint connecticut drawl that made your breath hitch.

“Mind if I join?” Paige Bueckers stood at the edge of your table, her gym bag slung over one shoulder a protein shake in her hand.

She was a vision of effortless charisma 6’0 of lean muscle her blonde hair pulled back in a bun a few strands escaping to frame her face.

Her blue eyes were sharp glinting with a mix of curiosity and amusement and she wore a black Huskies track jacket over leggings her sneakers scuffed from countless hours on the court.

The Union seemed to shift around her heads turning whispers rippling she was UConn’s golden girl a senior point guard whose every move was watched celebrated, dissected on X after each game.

Your classmate, yanna blinked up at her then grinned. “Paige Bueckers crashing our bio study sesh? Hell yeah pull up a chair.”

Paige’s smile was easy disarming but her eyes locked onto yours for a fraction too long a silent question lurking in their depths.

“Thanks” she said dropping her bag and sliding into the seat across from you her knee brushing yours under the table.

The contact was fleeting accidental or so you told yourself but it sent a spark through you your pen freezing mid tap. “name, right?” paige said leaning back in her chair her voice casual but deliberate like she was testing the weight of your name.

“Didn5 expect to see you here. Dont you have practice or something?” She shrugged sipping her shake her lips wrapping around the straw in a way that felt unfairly distracting.

"Coach gave us a breather before the game tomorrow. Figured I’d try to pass this bio elective before it kills me."

She tilted her head toward your textbook her braid slipping over her shoulder. “You look like you know your stuff. Mind helping a struggling athlete out?”

The table laughed the tension easing for everyone but you.

Sarah nudged you. “name is our resident genius. Shes got you, Paige.”

You managed a weak chuckle but your mind was racing. Paige Bueckers, UConns superstar, was sitting across from you her knee inches from yours her eyes flicking to you every few seconds like she was memorizing your face.

It was absurd she was just being friendly, right? But there was something in her attention a heat that made your skin prickle a familiarity that echoed the voice of AnonClient927,

though you dismissed the thought as paranoia.

There was no way. None. "Sure" you said clearing your throat flipping to a clean page in your notebook.

“What do you need help with?” Paige leaned forward her elbows on the table her gaze steady as she pointed to a diagram in your book.

“This whole ATP cycle thing, its like… i get it but i dont get it, explain it like im five?”

Her tone was playful but her focus was intense, her eyes never leaving yours as you started explaining your voice steadying as you fell into the rhythm of teaching.

You sketched a quick diagram talking through the stages of cellular respiration and she listened nodding asking questions that were surprisingly sharp for someone claiming to be lost.

Her hand brushed yours once reaching for the same pen and you pulled back instinctively your cheeks warming. “Sorry” she said her smile small but knowing like she noticed your reaction and filed it away.

“No worries” you mumbled focusing on the diagram though your pulse hadn’t quite settled.

The study session stretched on the group’s chatter fading into a comfortable hum.

Paige stayed longer than you expected her presence a constant pull on your attention.

She’d lean in to ask another question her voice low her shoulder brushing yours as she pointed to your notes.

Each touch each glance felt deliberate, like she was testing your boundaries gauging your response.

You tried to focus on the textbook on yanna’s jokes, on anything but the way laige’s laugh echoed. She was everywhere, her scent (clean sweat, citrus shampoo) mingling with the unions coffee haze, her laughter cutting through your defenses.

At one point, yanna left to grab smoothies, and the others drifted to a vending machine, leaving you and paige alone at the table.

The sudden quiet was electric the union’s noise fading to a distant buzz.

Paige leaned back stretching her arms above her head her jacket riding up to reveal a sliver of toned midriff.

Your eyes flicked away but not before she caught you looking.“So, name” she said her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper “whats your deal? Bio major, study group guru… what do you do for fun when you’re not saving my ass in class?”

The question was innocent but her tone wasnt there was a challenge in it, a nudge toward something personal.

You hesitated your fingers tightening around your pen. “Not much” you said aiming for nonchalance. “Study, work, the usual. You probably have more fun than I do, Miss All-American.”

She grinned undeterred her eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe, but i bet you got some secrets. everyone does.”

The word secrets hung in the air heavy with implication and your heart skipped, your mind flashing to the webcam, She couldnt know, it was impossible.

“Just boring college stuff” you said your voice steadier than you felt. “No big mysteries here.”

“Mm-hmm” she said her smile skeptical but playful, she leaned forward her voice dropping lower. “You ever go to games? i could hook you up with tickets. front row if you want.”

The offer was casual but her eyes were anything but searching your face for a reaction.

You swallowed the idea of sitting courtside watching her dominate both thrilling and terrifying.

“Maybe” you said deflecting. “ill let you know.”

“Do that” she said her voice soft but firm. She stood as the others returned slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Gotta run to film review but ill see you around, name, Thanks for the bio lesson.”

She flashed a final smile her gaze lingering then turned to leave.

You sat frozen your pen still clutched in your hand your heart pounding.

yanna slid back into her seat oblivious chattering about mango smoothies but you barely heard her.

Paige’s presence lingered like a phantom touch her words secrets, see you around echoing in your mind.

Over the next few days paige was everywhere, She’d nod at you in the hallway her grin bright but edged with something unspoken.

She’d pass you on the quad calling out “Yo, name, still waiting on that game RSVP!” with a laugh that made your stomach flip.

Once she joined your study group again, invited by yanna and spent the session stealing glance her foot nudging yours under the table her questions laced with double meanings.

Each interaction was a thread in a web she was weaving her flirtations subtle but relentless her confidence unshakable.

You tried to dismiss it. Paige was a star, a flirt by nature, her charm part of her public persona.

But the way she looked at you like she knew you like she saw through every brush of her hand chipped away at your certainty leaving you caught between fear and a traitorous pull toward her.

What you didnt know was that paige was playing a game of precision her every move calculated.

She confirmed her suspicion days ago during that first study session when your laugh a soft unguarded chuckle matched SlyVixen perfectly.

Your mannerisms the way you tilted your head when you explained something sealed it.

She wasnt sure how to bridge the gap without startling you so she leaned into the slow burn dropping hints watching you blush testing how far she could push.

The tension was intoxicating, each interaction fueling her desire—not just for a repeat of that night but for you, the real you, the girl who blushed under her gaze.

She wanted you in her orbit, and Paige Bueckers always got what she wanted.

The campus was a ghost town under the Friday night sky the stars half hidden by wisps of clouds the air thick with the damp chill of early.

The Student Union bar a squat brick building pulsing with bass and neon was the only sign of life its windows glowing with the chaos of post game revelry.

The Huskies had just crushed a GAME, 82-64, with Paige Bueckers dropping 32 points her name already trending on X as fans dissected every crossover and three-pointer.

The bar was packed students chugging cheap beer players basking in victory the DJ spinning trap beats that spilled into the street.

But you were outside leaning against the rough brick wall your breath fogging in the cold a half-empty soda in your hand.

Your friends had dragged you here hyped about the win but the noise and crowd had pushed you to the edge needing air needing quiet.

You wore a faded UConn hoodie, jeans and scuffed sneakers your beanie pulled low,blending into the shadows.

Paige’s recent flirtations her lingering glances, her foot nudging yours during study group, her cryptic “secrets” comment that had haunted you for days.

The bar’s door swung open, spilling laughter and music, and there she was— Paige, striding out like she owned the night.

Her blonde hair was loose damp from a post game shower, catching the streetlights glow.

She wore a black crop top under an open Huskies jacket low-slung joggers showing a sliver of toned abs, and fresh Nikes that gleamed under the neon.

Her gym bag was slung over one shoulder her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp scanning the street until they locked on you.

A grin spread across her face slow and dangerous like she’d been hunting and just found her mark.

“Yo, Y/N” she called her voice cutting through the night laced with that Connecticut drawl and a streetwise swagger that made your pulse jump.

“What you doin’ out here all lone? party too lit for you?”

You straightened your soda can cold against your palm, your heart kicking into overdrive. “Just needed some air” you said, aiming for casual but hearing the waver in your voice. “Congrats on the game, by the way.”

“Appreciate that” she said sauntering closer, her bag hitting the ground with a soft thud as she stopped a foot away.

Up close, she was overwhelming—6’0 of lean muscle, her citrus shampoo mixing with the bar’s smoky haze, her eyes blue and piercing, like they could see straight through your hoodie to the girl who danced for strangers.

“But real talk, you lookin’ kinda stressed. What’s good?”

“Nothin' ” you said too quickly, your fingers tightening around the can. “Just… midterms, you know?”

“Mm-hmm” she said, her grin fading into something sharper, more knowing.

She stepped closer, her sneakers scuffing the pavement, her body radiating heat in the cold.

“You sure? ‘Cause i been seein’ you around, name, and you actin’ like you got some heavy shit on your mind.”

Your stomach dropped, the word *shit* landing like a warning shot.

She was so close now, her jacket brushing your arm, her gaze pinning you against the wall.

“I’m fine” you said, but your voice cracked, betraying you. “Why you care, anyway?”

Paige laughed low and rough, leaning one hand against the brick beside your head, her body caging you in without touching.

“Oh, i care” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, thick with slang and intent.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you, name. Ever since that night, three weeks back. *SlyVixen*. That was you, right?”

The world tilted, your breath freezing in your chest.

The soda can slipped from your hand hitting the pavement with a dull clank, fizzing into the dirt.

“What?” you choked out, your voice barely audible, your mind screaming *no, no, no* “I don’t—Paige, you got the wrong person.”

“Nah, I ain’t got shit wrong” she said, her grin wolfish, her eyes glinting with certainty.

“That laugh, the way you move, that lil’ head tilt when you talk? I clocked it the second i bumped into you. Paid five hundo to watch you, and damn, it was worth every dime. But seein’ you now, all real and shit? Fuck, you finer in person.”

Panic surged hot and suffocating, but her words—*finer in person*—lit a spark you couldn’t douse, even as you scrambled for denial.

“Paige, Im not—you’re crazy” you stammered, pressing back against the brick, its cold bite grounding you. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“Stop playin’” she said, her voice softer now, but still laced with that thug edge, her free hand brushing your hip, light but deliberate.

“I ain’t here to snitch or judge. Im here ‘cause I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. That night, you had me fucked up, name. And now I want the real thing.”

Before you could protest, she closed the gap, her lips crashing into yours with a hunger that stole your breath.

The kiss was raw, urgent, her mouth hot and demanding, tasting faintly of mint and victory.

You froze for a split second, your brain screaming *run*, but your body betrayed you melting into her, your hands gripping her jacket as you kissed her back, hard.

The bar’s bass thumped in the distance, but the world narrowed to her—her heat, her hands, the brick scraping your back.

She pulled back, just enough to speak, her lips brushing yours, her breath ragged. “Fuck, you taste better than i imagined” she murmured, her voice all grit and want, her hand sliding to your waist, pinning you against the wall. “You gonna keep lyin’ or you gonna let me have you?”

“Paige” you gasped, your hands pushing at her chest, but there was no strength behind it, your body already arching into her touch. “This is—we can’t—”

“We can” she cut you off, her eyes blazing, her hand slipping under your hoodie, her fingers cold against your stomach, making you shiver. “Ain’t nobody out here. Just you and me, name. Let me show you what i been dyin’ to do.”

Her fingers moved lower, deft and confident, unbuttoning your jeans with a flick, slipping beneath the fabric to find you, her touch bold but precise, like she was calling a play on the court.

You gasped, your head tipping back against the brick, your hands clutching her shoulders as she worked you, her fingers curling with a rhythm that had you trembling, already teetering on the edge.

“Damn, you wet as fuck” she whispered her lips grazing your ear, her voice dripping with thug swagger.

“I bet no one else can make you feel this way. Not them other clients, not nobody. Just me.”

“Just you” you managed, your voice breaking, your nails digging into her jacket as her fingers pushed you higher, her touch relentless but controlled, drawing out every gasp, every shudder.

She was right—no one had ever unraveled you like this, not on the platform, not in the fleeting hookups of your past. It was her, all her, and the realization hit like a wave.

She pulled back just as you were about to break, her grin wicked, her eyes dark with intent. “Hold up, we ain’t done” she said, her voice low and rough, her hand reaching into her gym bag.

You caught a glimpse of what she pulled out a strap, sleek and familiar to her, like an extension of her confidence and your breath hitched, desire drowning out the last of your panic.

She adjusted it with practiced ease, her joggers low, her body pressing closer, pinning you against the wall.

“Paige, we’re outside” you whispered, but it was half hearted, your body already moving to meet her, your hands tugging at her waistband.

“Ain’t nobody seein’ shit” she said, her hands gripping your hips as she lifted you slightly, your jeans sliding lower. “You mine right now, name. Say it.”

“Yours” you breathed, and that was all she needed.

She entered you with a slow, deep thrust, the sensation drawing a moan from your lips, your back scraping the brick as you clung to her.

Her rhythm was deliberate at first, each movement precise, her lips brushing your neck, your jaw, whispering

“Fuck, you feel so good” her voice raw with need.

Then she quickened, her thrusts harder, more urgent, her hands tight on your hips, her body claiming yours in the shadows.

“I bet no one else can make you feel this way” she growled, her lips against your ear, her voice thick with possession, her thrusts relentless now, pushing you past the edge into something overwhelming, your body shaking as pleasure crashed through you. “Tell me, name. Who got you like this?”

“You” you gasped, your voice a cry, your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as she drove you higher, her own breath hitching as she felt you unravel. “Only you, Paige.”

She groaned, low and rough, her thrusts slowing but not stopping drawing out every aftershock until you were trembling, oversensitive, your body pressed against hers.

When she finally stilled, her forehead rested against yours, her breath hot and ragged, her hands softening on your hips.

“Damn,” she whispered, her voice softer now, almost tender.“You got me fucked up, name.”

You laughed weakly, your chest heaving, the cold air sharp against your flushed skin. “You’re the one who started this” you said, your voice shaky but warm, your hands still clutching her jacket.

She grinned, pulling back to look at you, her eyes softer now, searching. “Yeah, and I ain’t sorry” she said, her voice low, her thumb brushing your cheek. “you know, you don’t gotta keep doin’ that webcam shit. Not if it’s killin’ you. I… I could help, you know. Or we figure it out.”

You blinked surprised by the sincerity, your heart twisting with something new—hope, maybe, or trust. “Paige, you don’t even know me” you said, but your voice was gentle, testing.

“I know enough” she said, her grin small but real, her hand lingering on your waist. “And I wanna know more. If you down.”

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @slaybaddietaytay @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz @bueckersworld @paiges-1vur @elliesbabygirl

[bootycallin]

B(W)ETTER THAN ME !?

꩜ .ᐟ basically: vi hears from you that it's practically impossible for you to cum without having your clit played with, and guys never seem to find it to begin with. she takes that as a challenge.

cw: female reader with female anatomy. close friend vi. you can read this as modern au if you want, idfk. strap usage. doggy and then into another position idk the name of. manhandling. mentions of edging. petnames (doll, baby, etc.). overstimulation? squirting. very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. no plot just pôrn.

a/n; shoutout to my girls who are literally impossible to please without playing w they clit, we fightin for our lives over here. don’t expect a lot of pretty looking posts like this, i got excited. again, if any stuffs missing, pls tell me!! hope u like it…

NSFW UTC

"oh, really, doll?" it was an innocent conversation at first, you swore it was. you really don't know how it wound up with you bent over, face down ass up in your bed. your dearest friend, vi, right behind you. pounding into you. "it's frustrating," you said. "i can never cum from somebody just fucking me. no guy even knows that the clit exists either." you had been around vi enough to confide in her, even with your most intimate stories and complaints. what you didn't know is that by saying that, you inadvertantly challenged her.

"fuck, vi, wait--" you gasp, hand clumsily reaching behind you, feeling up her hipbone to her hard abs, glistened with sweat. "break. break. break." she had been plowing into you for what felt like hours now. realistically, it might only be a few minutes, but it's far longer than any other dude you had a fling with. for a second you wonder what the fuck she's eating to have this sort of stamina, because it sure as hell isn't human. "hurts?" she asked you, tone way too kind and sweet for the position she had you in. "no," you pant. "just... just gimme a sec--" it didn't hurt. quite the opposite-- it felt amazing. like nirvana except maybe ten times filthier. she was pounding you to cloud nine and back and gods, it felt good, but you still hadn't cum. right, she didn't play with your clit once. because she has to prove a point! she doesn't care how long shes gonna spend plowing into you with this goddamn strap, she wants to give you the best orgasm of your life, clit untouched. right now, for somebody that had never done this-- it was torture. a constant build-up, her tip repeatedly kissing the deepest places inside you until you felt like she was in your guts, rubbing against your slick walls, filling you up so good. it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

you didn't know, but she was being tortured too. she silently vowed to herself the moment she manhandled you onto your bed that she would not cum until you did. so, she's just sorta been edging herself for the past, like, seven minutes. may the higher lords of sex bless doggy, because were you to see her face right now, her ego would be destroyed. sweaty, red, nearly teary-eyed.

"want me to sto-"

"no," you answer just a tad too quickly. she cracks an amused huff at that, hands trailing up and down the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"fuck- just- gh!-"

you didn't have to finish the goddamn sentence, because when you were about to, vi has your wrists in her hands, pulling back and slamming forward into you with a guttural growl. it’s harsher, it’s meaner, and it feels so goddamn good.

you don't even realize what's happening until your back presses against her chest. she pulled you up against her, hands still wrapped tightly together as she rut into you. with the closer proximity, her face buried into the crook of your neck. you could hear her panting, groaning, growling with every smack of her hips against yours. oh, and she could hear every little cry that came from you when she rut into that little spot you always found hard to reach.

oh, vi. shit, fuck, fuck me, yes. oh, she's gonna be dreaming about you for a while after this.

"viii!--" you whine, throwing your head back. there it was again, that heat bubbling in your stomach like a boiling pot, ready to boil over. it was stronger. far stronger. your head was fuzzy with the feeling.

"shit, vi-- fuck, fuck, fuck, i think i-"

"close, doll?" she growled. she just barely gives you the time to respond, shuffling a bit so she could angle her hips up, and oh-

"vi!" found it. head first (literally) ramming into that gooey, sensitive and swollen bundle of nerves, the good old g. bet none of those guys were able to find it, huh, baby?

she growls into your shoulder when she feels your stubby little nails scratch at her lower abdomen, where she held your wrists back tight. you were close, she was close, she could feel it. perfect.

"vi, wait, shiiit!--" you cry out, but she's not stopping. it's too much to process, unlike anything you've ever felt before. you can feel the pressure building exponentially, your abused little cunt spasming around her cock, clenching so tight she nearly finds it hard to move if it weren't for the drippy slick running down your folds. it's strange, and for a second you're worried with the pressure building in your bladder, only to send shocks up to your clit.

"fuck, shit, it's weird, vi--" your head lolls back against her shoulder, jaw hanging open as you let out wanton cries and babbles.

"it's 'right, baby. jus' let go, come on..." she doesn't know if shes talking to you or herself. but she knows it works--

you finally cum with a dragged out whine of her name (that almost sounded like a scream, to be fair. she's surprised your throat isn't hoarse). you swear you black out for a second, vision going white as you feel like you explode into pleasured little pieces. and--

oh. oh.

the splashing of that milky, yet watery liquid, gushing all over her cock. damn, that's fucking hot. you should see yourself from her point of view. not only does she make you cum, she makes you squirt. vi takes that as enough victory to rut into you until she reaches her own orgasm-- which, to be fair, doesn't take too long since she's been on the edge of cumming for the past few minutes. she buries her face into your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. it still steals a few more whimpers and whines from you--and from her too, but she manages to hide them by biting your shoulder with a grunt.

too weak by both of your highs to keep upright, she ends up sitting back down onto the mattress, letting go of your arms only to wrap her own around your waist, cinching you two closer from behind. her strap has long since slipped out of you, leaving you dripping and empty, but ultimately satisfied.

"enjoy yourself?" you need a few minutes to come to and fro, blinking a few times before you see where vi is looking and look towards the direction, only to see the darkened, wet spot of your own making on you sheets. fuck.

"oh shit, that's--" you sound embarrassed, and she's quick to cut you off.

"it's fine, baby. just glad you enjoyed yourself." she chuckled. gods, she's so sweet when she wants to be. she runs her hands over your sides, kissing your nape.

"but you owe it to me, was that not the best orgasm of your life?" she whispers into your ear, her hand trailing down and down and down, until her ring and middle finger press against your twitchy clit, earning a sharp gasp from you.

"imagine what i could do playing with this pretty thing, though?"

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[imnotkaizer]

KAIZER PLEASE MAKE CAMGIRL READER WHERE SHE IS RIDING PAIGE im on my knees

⊹ ࣪ ˖ camgirl reader x paige bueckers. ➟ riding paige. pcrn recording. strap on.

Paige is beneath you, her lean athletic frame stretched out on the bed her blonde hair fanned across the pillow slightly damp with sweat.

Her blue eyes sharp and intense are locked on you a mix of hunger and adoration that makes your pulse race.

She’s wearing the strap moving with a rhythm thats both confident and attuned to your every shift her hands resting lightly on your thighs guiding without controlling.

Theres a faint smirk on her lips the kind that says she knows exactly how shes unraveling you but her gaze is softer deeper, like shes seeing straight into your soul.

You are riding her your body finding a steady intoxicating pace, a slow burn that spreads through every nerve but its paige’s eyes that keep pulling you in.

They are unwavering, drinking in every detail your flushed cheeks the way your lips part with each shaky breath the subtle tremble in your thighs.

You feel exposed in the best way like shes memorizing you cherishing you.

In your hand your phone trembles slightly the screen glowing with the live feed of the moment.

You brought it up earlier a half joking suggestion that turned serious when paiges eyes lit up with mischief and curiosity.

“Only if your sure” she said her voice low and careful but the spark in her expression told you she was as intrigued as you were.

Now, your holding the phone at an angle the camera capturing the scene your silhouette moving against hers the curve of her collarbone the way her abs flex with each subtle thrust.

The red recording light blinks steadily a quiet reminder that this moment is being preserved a secret shared between you.

You tilt the phone slightly adjusting the frame to focus on paige’s face, the screen shows her perfectly her parted lips the faint flush across her cheeks the intensity in her eyes as she watches you.

Its almost too much seeing her like this both in person and through the lens.

The duality of it the real her beneath you and the captured version on the screen sends a thrill down your spine.

You are hyper aware of every detail the way her fingers curl against your skin the soft hitch in her breath when you shift your hips, the way her smirk softens into something more vulnerable when your eyes meet.

“Enjoying the view?” Paige teases her voice husky a playful edge cutting through the haze of the moment.

Her hands slide up your thighs her thumbs brushing sensitive spots that make you gasp, you laugh the sound breathy and a little unsteady. “Hard not to” you manage glancing at the phone screen again.

The camera catches the way her eyes crinkle at the corners a mix of amusement “Your too pretty.”

Her smirk widens "Keep talking like that, and im gonna get distracted" she says, one hand moving to your hip guiding you with a gentle but firm pressure.

You adjust the phone again your arm shaking slightly from the effort of holding it steady.

The screen shows the way your bodies move together a dance of shadows and light but its paige’s gaze that keeps drawing you back.

On the screen,l her eyes are even more striking framed by the soft glow of the lamp.

They are fierce but tender like shes holding you in place with her look alone.

You feel a rush of heat not just from the physicality but from the way shes so present, so completely with you.

“Put that down for a second” Paige murmurs, her voice low. Her hand reaches up fingers brushing your wrist but she doesnt force it. “I want your hands on me.”

You hesitate glancing at the phone.

The idea of setting it down feels like letting go of something, but the way she’s looking at you half commanding, half begging—makes your decision easy.

You lean over propping the phone against a pillow on the nightstand making sure the angle still captures you both.

The screen shows a wider view now your silhouette arched above her paige’s hands anchoring you the subtle flex of her arms as she moves with you.

Satisfied you turn your full attention back to her your hands finding her shoulders then sliding down to her chest.

Her skin is warm slick with a faint sheen of sweat and you can feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat under your palms. “Better?” you tease, mimicking her earlier tone.

“Much” she says her voice rough with want.

She sits up slightly one arm wrapping around your waist pulling you closer.

The shift changes the angle of the strap and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

Paige notices her lips curving into a knowing smile. “You good?”

“More than good” you whisper your voice catching as you find your rhythm again.

Her free hand slides up your back fingers tracing the curve of your spine and the tenderness in her touch contrasts with the intensity of the moment making it all the more consuming.

You steal a glance at the phone unable to resist, the screen shows you both in motion the way your hips roll the way paige’s hand splays across your back the way her eyes never leave your face.

and the act of recording it feels like a shared rebellion a way of claiming this moment for just the two of you.

You imagine watching it later curled up on the couch paige’s arm around you as you both laugh and blush at the memory.

Her voice pulls you back. “Your thinking too much” she says softly. “Stay with me.”

You nod refocusing on her.

Her eyes are still locked on. You lean down kissing her deeply your hands tangling in her hair.

The kiss is messy all heat and urgency and she responds with a low groan that vibrates through you.

The strap moves perfectly now each thrust sending sparks through your body and paige’s hands guide you with a rhythm that feels like second nature.

“You are so fucking beautiful” she says against your lips, her voice raw and sincere.

The words hit you hard a wave of emotion mingling with the physical intensity.

You pull back slightly just enough to meet her gaze and the look in her eyes open, unguarded makes your chest tighten.

“So are you” you say your voice barely above a whisper.

You mean it and the way her expression softens tells you she feels it too.

The tension builds your breaths coming faster your movements more desperate.

Paige senses it her hands tightening on your hips her own breaths ragged now. "i got you" she says her voice steady despite the heat in her eyes. "let go."

You do the wave crashing over you, your body trembling as you cling to her, Paige holds you through it her arms strong and sure her lips brushing soft kisses against your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

The phone is still recording capturing the afterglow the way you collapse against her, the way she wraps her arms around you, the soft, shared laughter as you both catch your breath.

You reach over to stop the recording your fingers clumsy but deliberate.

The screen goes dark and you set the phone on the nightstand, turning back to paige.

She’s watching you with a lazy satisfied smile, her eyes half-lidded but still warm. “So” she says, her voice teasing “gonna make me a movie star now?”

You laugh, swatting her arm lightly. “Maybe just for us” you say settling into her embrace.

She pulls you closer her lips brushing your temple. “Good” she murmurs. “I like the sound of that.”

🔖 — @addl0vee @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode @latenighttalkinqwp @avvwritesstufff @prettygirl-gabi @yailtsv @bebitts @heartsforari @usuallyshadowybasement @authentic-girl03 @private-but-not-a-secret @evanpeterstoe @destinybueckers44 @slaybaddietaytay @youmeandjennessey @starfulani @cherryswisherz @bueckersworld @paiges-1vur

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you are extra needy this morning

warning : sexual content ahead - minors do not interact

The morning sun creeps in through the cracks of the curtains, painting soft golden stripes across the white sheets. Paige is lying beside you, bare and beautiful, her face tucked into the pillow with strands of blonde hair falling over her cheek. Her breathing is slow, peaceful, lips parted slightly — the kind of sight that makes your heart ache in the best way.

You shift gently, careful not to wake her just yet, letting your hand glide under the sheets. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, the familiar landscape of her body calling to you. You press a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck, taking your time, just soaking her in.

She stirs a little when your mouth brushes her collarbone, but she doesn’t wake — not fully. And you smile against her skin, because you love her like this. Still soft with sleep. Trusting. Unaware of the quiet worship about to unfold.

Your hand traces down slowly, lovingly, until it rests between her thighs. She sighs softly in her sleep as your fingers part her gently, your touch featherlight. Her body’s already reacting to you, even half-asleep — hips shifting, thighs parting just a little more as if welcoming you in.

You slide under the covers, kissing a trail down her stomach, slow and reverent. Your hands rest on her hips, thumbs brushing over the soft skin there as you settle between her legs. She’s warm and already slick, her body remembering you even if her mind hasn't caught up yet.

The first kiss you press to her is slow — a long, tender drag of your tongue that makes her breath hitch. Her hand twitches on the sheet beside her, and you hear the softest, sleepiest hum escape her lips. You smile, pressing another kiss, this time with a little more pressure. She stirs, hips shifting instinctively, head rolling slightly on the pillow.

“Mm…” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “Babe…”

You hum against her, hands holding her thighs steady as you continue — slow, patient, savoring every quiet reaction. Your tongue moves in soft, loving circles, teasing her clit with featherlight licks. She gasps now, waking fully, her hand finding your hair under the blanket.

“Shit… what are you doing to me?” she whispers, voice breathy, still half-caught in a dream. But her body knows. She arches into you, her grip tightening in your hair, thighs trembling slightly around your shoulders.

You look up at her from under the covers, watching her face tilt back, her brows drawn together in that pretty way you love. She’s panting now, chest rising and falling faster, her skin flushed.

Your name spills from her lips like a prayer.

You flatten your tongue, dragging it slowly over her again, then flick her clit softly, watching her hips jerk. You hold her down gently, grounding her with your hands, murmuring soft praises between licks.

“So good to me,” you whisper into her. “Always taste so good, baby.”

Her hand cups the back of your head, holding you there, but there’s no urgency — just connection. Intimacy. She wants to feel you. Wants to feel loved.

And that’s what you give her.

You bring her to the edge slowly, letting her fall apart at her own pace. Her thighs quake around your head, and her moans start to break, gasps turning into whimpers as her orgasm builds. She’s so close. You can feel it in the way her fingers clutch your hair, her hips rolling with you, chasing every flick of your tongue.

“I’m gonna… fuck, babe, don’t stop,” she breathes.

And you don’t.

You hold her close, press your tongue flat, and let her fall.

She comes with a soft cry of your name, thighs clenching, body arching off the bed. You ride it out with her, never letting go, mouth gentle but unrelenting as she shakes in your arms.

When she finally relaxes, you crawl up beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple. She turns to you, still catching her breath, cheeks pink, eyes glassy with bliss.

“Good morning,” you murmur, brushing her hair from her face.

She smiles, slow and sleepy, pulling you into her chest. “Best morning ever.”

You lie there for a moment, tangled up in sheets and each other, the warmth between you still lingering. She kisses your forehead, then your lips, tasting herself on your tongue.

“Next time,” she whispers, voice husky, “I’m waking you up like that.”

You chuckle, already anticipating it.

The sheets are still warm from where she laid. You can smell her on the pillow next to you — sweet and sleepy and a little salty from the way you kissed every inch of her earlier. The morning is quiet, peaceful even, but something about the space she’s left behind makes your chest ache.

You hear soft noises from the kitchen. A pan shifting. The gentle sizzle of something hitting the stove. Paige, humming quietly, probably barefoot and wearing whatever shirt she grabbed closest.

You smile at the thought — until you realize you miss her. Really miss her. Which is ridiculous, because she was in your arms not even five minutes ago.

Still, your skin is buzzing. Maybe it’s the way she moaned your name. Maybe it���s the way she looked at you after — messy hair, flushed cheeks, eyes full of love. But there’s a need stirring in your chest that hasn’t settled yet. One that’s not about sex, not really. It’s about her. Her body, her scent, her warmth — the way she grounds you without even trying.

So you push the sheets off and get up, tugging on a pair of boxers and a sports bra, but not bothering with a shirt. The cool air in the hallway hits your bare skin, but you don’t care. You're already being pulled toward her.

She’s standing in front of the stove, humming some song that’s been stuck in her head for days. And just like you imagined, she’s in your shirt — oversized and hanging just past her hips, her long legs bare, and a pair of soft cotton panties hugging her perfectly. The curve of her ass underneath the shirt makes your mouth water.

You pause in the doorway, just watching her. Watching how she sways slightly to the music. How she flips something in the pan with practiced ease. How she doesn’t even notice the hunger building in your eyes because she’s too caught up in just being.

You walk up behind her slowly, quietly, until your chest presses to her back. You wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Missed you,” you murmur into her skin.

Paige laughs gently. “I’ve been gone for, like, four minutes.”

“Too long,” you say, voice low and a little rough. “Need you.”

She leans back into you with a soft sigh, letting her head fall against your shoulder for a moment. “You’re clingy today.”

“I know,” you whisper, trailing your hand down her thigh. “Don’t care.”

And without giving her much warning, you hook your fingers under the waistband of her panties and slowly pull them down, watching them slide over her hips and down her thighs. She gasps softly, gripping the edge of the counter for balance, her legs shifting apart instinctively.

“Babe—” she starts, but her voice catches when you drop to your knees behind her.

You spread her gently, kissing the back of her thigh first. Then higher. Then right where she needs it — slow and loving at first, tongue dragging through her folds, collecting every bit of her.

Her hands clutch the counter tighter, and she bends forward slightly, pushing her hips back into you. She’s already sensitive from earlier, already wet. Her quiet moans fill the kitchen, blending with the soft sizzle of something forgotten on the stove.

You grip her hips and bury your face in her, licking her like you missed her — because you did. Your tongue moves in slow, hungry strokes, and when you flick her clit just right, her knees buckle a little.

“F-fuck,” she breathes. “You really missed me, huh?”

You hum into her, teasing, “Told you.”

She reaches one hand back to tangle in your hair, grounding herself. But it’s no use — she’s unraveling for you, her breath coming in short, broken gasps as you push her higher.

You press your tongue deeper, then suck her clit gently, and that’s when she falls apart. Her thighs tremble, her body jerking forward slightly as she comes with a soft, shaky cry of your name.

You stay there a moment longer, kissing her thighs as she comes down, then gently pull her panties the rest of the way off and toss them to the side. She turns around slowly, still catching her breath, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

“I was trying to make pancakes,” she says, laughing breathlessly.

You stand up and wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. “I’ll make the next batch.”

She smiles, resting her forehead against yours. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you.”

The kitchen smells like burnt pancakes and sex.

Paige’s shirt is wrinkled and halfway off her shoulder, her legs still a little unsteady as she leans into you. You kiss her again — slower this time, mouths lazy and tangled, your hand cupping her jaw while she sighs into your lips.

“Come shower with me,” she whispers against your mouth.

You nod without hesitation. Because whatever she wants, you’d follow — especially if it means feeling her skin against yours again, hot water cascading around you, hands exploring each other all over again.

She takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, her fingers interlaced with yours, the pad of her thumb gently rubbing your knuckle. There’s no rush — just quiet intimacy. Something sacred hanging in the space between.

The bathroom is soon filled with the soft hiss of water as Paige turns on the shower. Steam rises, curling around the edges of the mirror, fogging up the room as you both slowly undress the rest of the way. She peels off your boxers and sports bra, you lift her shirt over her head, and the two of you step in together, the warm water hitting your skin like a second touch.

She turns to face you under the stream, eyes closed as the water runs down her hair, her lips parted, face tilted toward the warmth. And God, she’s stunning like this — like something carved out of dream and sunlight.

You press yourself to her, arms winding around her waist, letting the water soak both of you. Her hands find your chest, fingers splayed over your heart, and she looks up at you with that soft, knowing smile.

“Still clingy?” she teases gently.

You dip your head, kissing the spot just beneath her ear. “Worse, probably.”

She giggles and cups your face, pulling you into a kiss that’s deeper than before — slower, wetter, needier. It’s the kind of kiss that makes your knees weak. That makes your heart thud too loud in your chest. That says I missed you and I’m not done with you yet all at once.

Your hands slide down her back, resting just above her ass, thumbs brushing her skin. Her body presses to yours completely, breasts flush to your chest, slick and warm from the water.

Then you sink to your knees again, water pouring down your back.

“Baby—” she starts, voice caught between surprise and arousal, but she doesn’t stop you. Her back rests against the tile wall, her hands threading back into your wet hair.

You look up at her as the water streams between you, then lean forward and kiss her inner thigh. “Just need one more taste.”

She breathes out a soft curse, hips twitching forward.

Your mouth finds her again, tender but insistent — tongue sliding between her folds, savoring her all over again. Her moans echo off the tile, sweet and breathless as you make love to her with your mouth. The steam clings to your skin, making everything feel heavier, hotter, more intense.

She clutches the back of your head, her other hand bracing against the wall as your tongue circles her clit. Her legs tremble, and she gasps, “Oh my God, I can’t— You’re gonna make me—”

You hum against her, tongue flicking faster now, one hand gripping her thigh to keep her steady. You can feel her body begin to quake, her core pulsing as her orgasm builds fast — too fast.

She comes with a cry, her back arching off the wall, her hand pulling your hair as her hips stutter. You hold her through it, licking her softly, drawing out every last wave until she’s practically sliding down the wall.

You rise back up, catching her before her knees give out, and she collapses against you, chest heaving, face tucked into your neck.

“You’re insatiable,” she mumbles, voice muffled and still dazed.

You chuckle, holding her tighter. “I warned you.”

Her laugh is breathy, her lips brushing your collarbone. “Okay… now we shower.”

You smile and finally reach for the body wash, letting her turn around so you can lather her up with your hands — slow and teasing, because even when you’re trying to be good, you still want her under your fingers.

And as the water washes away everything else — the syrup, the mess, the morning heat — you think to yourself: there’s no place in the world you’d rather be than right here.

With her. Like this. Always.

[thedxxthnotes]

this but wlw

Me next plsplspls