mocha

“Look at you, trembling already,” Sevika growls, voice low and rough as her hands settle on your hips. “You’re soaked for me, aren’t you?”

You whimper, thighs trembling, body already betraying your anger and desire. “Y-yes— please,” you gasp, heat pooling between your legs. She smirks, pressing a firm hand against your lower back as her other slides between your thighs, fingers teasing, testing, just enough to make you arch into her touch. Every nerve in your body is on fire, and she hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

Before you can catch your breath, she lines herself up, pressing the tip of her strap-on against you. You gasp at the stretch, the pressure, and the anticipation. She pushes slowly, letting your body adjust to the fullness, inch by inch. Your nails dig into the sheets as she slides deeper, every movement measured, powerful, filling you completely. You cry out at the sensation, trembling, desperate for more.

Sevika begins to move, slow at first, letting you feel every curve and edge of her against you. Then she picks up the pace, thrusting deep and hard, hitting angles that make your hips jerk uncontrollably. Her hands grip your waist, thumbs pressing into your lower back, keeping you steady as she leans close, lips brushing your ear. You shiver at the low growl vibrating through her chest, clenching around her, and suddenly your world narrows to the relentless, powerful rhythm of her fucking you.

Her free hand drifts between your thighs, rubbing your clit in perfect time with her hips. You moan in loud, messy bursts, body squirming, hips rocking into every thrust. Your fingers clutch her forearms, nails leaving shallow scratches, and she hums against you, clearly enjoying how completely undone you are. She whispers your name once, low and possessive, sending an electric shock straight to your core.

Your body unravels under her, muscles clenching, back arching, chest heaving as your orgasm hits in long, shuddering waves. She doesn’t let up, thrusting deep and hard, rubbing your sensitive spots, biting your shoulder lightly, keeping you on the edge until your cries fill the room. Finally, she slows, dragging the tip out just enough for you to catch your breath, but not fully letting go. She wraps you in her arms, pressing kisses to your neck, stroking your hair and trembling shoulders. Even after destroying you, she makes you feel utterly cherished, safe, and entirely hers.

“You’re really sure about this?” Abby asks, voice low and rough, her fingers brushing over your hip. There’s that dangerous smirk on her face that makes your chest flutter. “Because once I start, there’s no stopping.”

You nod, cheeks burning, heart hammering. “I-I want to try,” you whisper. “Just— just don’t go too fast.”

She chuckles, tugging you toward the bed. “Too late for that,” she murmurs, hands sliding over your sides, cupping your ass. “I want to see how you take me.”

The strap-on is already in place, sleek and vibrating lightly against your thigh, and the hum sends shivers straight through you. Abby’s hand presses against your lower back, guiding you to lean forward just enough as her other hand drags your thighs apart. “Feel that?” she murmurs, pressing the tip against your folds. “This little toy’s gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, gasping as she pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to the thickness and the buzz of the vibrator pressed against your clit. Every inch makes your knees shake, hips tilting, and she laughs low and satisfied. Her hand slides between your bodies, rubbing your wetness, her thumb circling your clit with the vibrations pulsing through you.

Then she starts moving, thrusts deliberate and deep, the strap-on pressing inside you while the vibrator hums against your clit. You cry out, arching into her, hands clutching the sheets as she leans close, lips brushing your ear. “That’s it- take it all,” she growls, voice low and commanding, and the mix of pressure, vibration, and her strength drives you straight into a screaming, shuddering orgasm.

Professor!Sevika definitely bending you over her desk, spanking you as you review or recite your answers

Tags: dom!sevika, sub!reader, spanking, desk sex, praise kink, teasing, orgasm denial, humiliation.

The wooden surface of the desk presses uncomfortably against your knees as you lean over it, the faint scent of polished mahogany mixing with Sevika’s subtle perfume. Your palms slide along the edge, trembling slightly, but you don’t dare look back—she’s standing there, rigid, the corner of her lips quirked in that dangerous, knowing smile she always gets when she’s about to remind you who’s in charge.

“Again,” she says, her voice low, controlled, a harsh contrast to the way your pulse races. “Recite the answer, clearly this time. No hesitation.”

You swallow hard, heat blooming across your chest and down between your thighs. You know she’s holding back, letting the anticipation do the work for her. Your voice comes out shaky, but determined, because failure isn’t just academic here—it’s… otherwise significant.

Sevika circles behind you, each step deliberate, the soft click of her heels echoing in the quiet room. Your spine stiffens instinctively when she stops directly behind you, her hand resting lightly on the curve of your lower back. She leans in close enough that the warmth of her body teases your ear, and you inhale sharply.

“You’re close,” she murmurs, her tone soft but commanding. “But not close enough.”

Before you can respond, a firm hand lands across your ass, and you gasp, a sharp sound that betrays the mix of surprise and excitement coiling inside you. The sting blooms immediately, your cheeks warming under the pressure.

“Focus,” she snaps, and then another hand lands. Slap. Your body shivers, your answer forgotten for the moment as your mind fractures between compliance and craving.

“Louder,” she commands, her other hand gripping your waist to steady you. “I want to hear it like you mean it.”

You repeat your answer, this time voice trembling with both effort and need, and another spank lands. Her grip is firm, unyielding, but there’s a subtle heat in it that makes you ache for more even as you wince. She’s meticulous, precise, ensuring every touch leaves its mark without giving in to excess.

“You’re learning, yes,” she purrs, almost approvingly, then suddenly smacks you again, harder this time. “But do you feel the lesson yet?”

“Yes, Professor,” you whisper, cheeks flaming. The heat between your legs is nearly unbearable, your thighs pressing together instinctively, trying to cope with both humiliation and craving.

Her hand drifts up to your back, trailing along your spine in a slow, torturous line that contrasts sharply with the earlier sharp smacks. You shiver violently under her touch, the mix of pain and pleasure driving you mad. “Good,” she says, almost to herself. “Very good.”

Another smack, another gasp. She’s relentless, alternating discipline with praise, driving you to the edge of your control. She leans closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “You respond so well when you’re properly corrected. That’s exactly what I want from you.”

You feel the words dig into you, a mixture of shame and longing. Each spanking, each touch, each whispered command etches itself onto your body and mind. Your answers blur together, recitations mingling with gasps, moans, and the relentless, delicious sting of her hand.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, finally stepping back to admire the work of her hands on your body. “But there’s more for you to show me.”

And you’re ready, trembling over the desk, fully under her control, every nerve alive with anticipation of the next word, the next command, the next sharp, delicious reminder of who holds your attention—and your body—so completely.

Synopsis: After a terrible day, you find comfort and healing in Sevika’s arms, and what starts as gentle kisses turns into soft, intimate love.

Tags: soft smut, emotional, comfort, groping, tender sex, oral, fingering (both r receiving).

You slump into the couch, shoulders tight and trembling, as the weight of the day finally catches up with you. Everything had gone wrong—small failures stacking into a mountain of frustration and self-doubt. You bury your face in your hands, and the tears fall silently at first, hot streaks across your cheeks.

You don’t even notice the soft sound of footsteps until a shadow looms near the doorway. Sevika’s voice, low and steady, cuts through your storm: “Hey… hey, what’s wrong?”

You lift your head slightly, sniffing, embarrassed, trying to compose yourself. “I… I just—today’s been awful,” you mumble, voice breaking. You try to brush away the tears, but they only fall faster, stubborn and impossible to control.

Before you can protest, Sevika is kneeling beside you, her presence overwhelming and comforting all at once. She drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. Her touch is warm, grounding. “Shh it’s okay, doll. Let it out. I’ve got you,” she murmurs softly.

You cling to her, letting her steady arms and calming energy envelop you. The tremble in your body eases slightly as she rests her chin on your head. “I… I just feel so useless sometimes,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not useless,” Sevika says firmly, brushing a stray hair from your face. Her thumb traces gentle circles on your cheek, smoothing away your tears. “You’re amazing. Don’t ever forget that. And right now? You deserve to feel cared for. Let me take care of you.”

Her words, soft yet commanding, make your chest ache with warmth and longing. You find yourself nuzzling against her, inhaling the scent of her—cinnamon, smoke, leather—a grounding anchor in the chaos of your mind. Sevika leans down, lips brushing your temple, then your cheek, soft kisses that make the tension in your body loosen.

“You’re so beautiful when you cry, you know that?” she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. You flush at the compliment, hiding your face against her shoulder.

Sevika tilts your chin up gently, forcing your eyes to meet hers. “Look at me, doll. You’re safe. Only me. Just breathe.” Her lips hover over yours, warm and insistent, coaxing. Your lips part slightly, and the first kiss is tentative—soft, hesitant.

And then it deepens. Her tongue brushes yours lightly, testing, exploring. You moan softly into the kiss, your hands clutching at her jacket as she holds you against her. Every touch is deliberate, careful, as if she’s memorizing your body, every shiver and sigh.

When she pulls back just slightly, resting her forehead against yours, she whispers, “You don’t have to be strong right now. You can just… be.”

The tenderness in her voice makes your heart flutter. Slowly, the kiss resumes, this time hungrier, more insistent—but still soft, caring. Her hands slide down to your waist, gently pressing you against her, eliciting a whimper from you. You realize that she’s not just comforting you emotionally; her touch is awakening a desire you hadn’t expected while feeling vulnerable.

Sevika pulls you closer, lips moving along your jaw, neck, and collarbone, leaving soft kisses in her wake. Her fingers trace lines along your spine, then under your shirt, palming your sides gently. The heat from her hands makes you shiver, the sensation strange and delightful against your emotional fragility.

“Do you want me?” she asks softly, lips brushing your ear. Her question is gentle, caring, not commanding—giving you room to consent even in your weakened state.

“Yes,” you whisper almost automatically, your voice shaky but full of trust.

With that, she guides you down onto the couch, keeping you pressed against her. Her kisses are everywhere—neck, shoulders, down your chest—while her hands explore the curves of your body carefully, deliberately. You arch into her touch, letting out soft, needy moans as she finds the sensitive spots that make you shiver.

Sevika’s fingers cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over the nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. She watches your reaction closely, making sure each touch is pleasing, not overwhelming. Her lips return to yours, teeth grazing yours gently as she deepens the kiss.

Her hands wander lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts, brushing your heated core. You moan against her mouth, hips pressing into her hand instinctively. She chuckles softly, amused by your desperation. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmurs, lips finding the swell of your breast again, licking and sucking gently while her other hand teases your folds.

The sensations build, your body slick and heated. She teases you, fingers circling, then slipping inside, testing, stretching, and making you arch against her. She leans down, capturing one of your nipples in her mouth while her fingers move inside you, pulling soft moans from your lips.

“Kiss me,” she whispers urgently, wanting your lips back on hers. You do, desperate, tongues tangling as she grinds against you, hand working inside you in slow, deliberate strokes. The gentle rhythm of her touch, combined with the warmth of her body against yours, makes your mind melt.

Her kisses trail down your neck again, and she whispers against your skin, “I’m going to take care of you, doll. I’ll make you feel good… so good.”

The words, tender yet possessive, send a shiver through you. She slides a hand under your shorts completely now, her fingers wet and skilled. You gasp, biting your lip as she slowly pumps inside you while her mouth sucks at your sensitive nipples.

“Sevika…” you moan, voice trembling, hips lifting slightly.

Her grip tightens, controlling your movements as she leans over, pressing her chest against yours. She teases your clit with the tip of her finger, curling it inside you slowly, pulling groans from you that mix with her low, satisfied hums.

“Come for me, doll,” she whispers, fingers and lips working in tandem. You feel your orgasm building rapidly, and she doesn’t let up, grinding softly against you, kissing you passionately, until your legs tremble and your body quivers, spilling over into a wave of heat and pleasure.

She doesn’t stop until you’re shaking in her arms, fingers clutching at her shoulders, breathing ragged and eyes filled with tears of relief. She pulls back slightly, brushing hair from your face, soft smile on her lips.

“You’re okay,” she whispers. “I’ve got you. Always.”

You collapse against her chest, finally allowing yourself to relax completely. Her arms wrap around you, holding you like you’re fragile and precious, and you feel the weight of your bad day lifting, replaced by warmth, safety, and the soft intimacy of her love.

As you curl into her, her lips press to your temple, shoulder, and jaw in a cascade of gentle kisses. The aftershocks of pleasure leave you sensitive, sticky, but utterly cherished. You feel adored, protected, and safe, and in Sevika’s arms, the world feels a little lighter, a little softer.

Even as you drift into a trembling, contented sleep, her hands never leave you, fingers stroking your hair and back, murmuring soft praises and low, loving sounds. The world outside fades away. Here, with her, you are loved, cared for, and utterly hers.

pussy drunk ellie x f! reader.

You’re leaning against the worn couch, your body pressed lightly into Ellie’s as she’s sprawled out in front of you, eyes glinting with that messy, desperate need only she can carry. She’s got that sly, almost helpless grin on her face, the one that makes your stomach clench, and you know immediately—you’re in trouble.

“God… I’ve been thinking about this all day,” she mutters, her voice low, breath uneven as she shifts slightly, brushing the tip of her tongue against the seam of her lips. Her hands twitch as she reaches for your hips, nudging you closer. “You’re not leaving me hanging, right?”

Her thighs are spread wide, and even just seeing her like this—hair messy, eyes dark, pulse obvious in the way she’s shaking—makes your core ache. She’s impatient, desperate, wet for you in a way that makes her entirely unguarded. You don’t even have time to answer properly before she grabs your waist, tugging you down onto her face with just enough force that you’re both laughing and gasping.

Ellie’s tongue is relentless. She flicks it against your clit first, teasing, exploring, dragging a line from the bud to the entrance of your folds in long, languid strokes that leave you shivering. She hums around you, low and vibrating, her lips pressing against your sensitive skin as she alternates between soft, teasing laps and firm, greedy sucks. Every time she flicks her tongue upward, your thighs shake and your hands grip her hair instinctively.

“Fuck… you taste so good,” she groans, a little muffled, her hands bracing on your hips to keep you steady while she buries herself deeper between your legs. Her nails dig lightly into your skin, just enough to make you whimper, making you grind back against her face without thinking.

Her other hand finds your ass, squeezing firmly as her tongue dances expertly over every sensitive inch, probing and teasing. You’re rocking instinctively, hips rolling and shivering against her, letting her take control. She’s too good at this—too precise, too messy, too completely devoted to making you melt.

“Damn… I could stay here forever,” she pants, and it’s impossible not to shiver at the sound. You move your hands to her shoulders, bracing as you start to ride her face, feeling her tongue curl inside you, circling and licking with patience and lust in equal measure. She hums again, low and teasing, and it vibrates right through your core.

Ellie’s face is wet and determined, her lips parting against you as she laps and sucks, relentless in her hunger for you. She’s utterly lost in the need to taste you, to feel you trembling and squirming above her. Every little moan you let out seems to fuel her, making her suck a little harder, lick a little deeper, and keep her hands roaming your thighs, waist, and hips to keep you steady.

You start to move faster, rocking your hips down onto her tongue, feeling every flick and curl of her tongue drive you higher. Ellie’s grunts are muffled but full of satisfaction, her breaths hot and ragged against you as she murmurs encouragements, guiding you without needing to speak more than a word or two.

“You’re… so good,” she pants, pressing her face harder against you, making your legs shake and your back arch. She’s greedy and messy, letting her tongue explore every sensitive curve, alternating between long, deep licks and flicks that leave you gasping. Her hands never stop moving—one presses firmly to your hip while the other cups your ass, holding you close enough that you feel every tremor of her need.

Your body starts to tremble uncontrollably, your moans growing louder, high and ragged as Ellie keeps up the relentless teasing, pressing her face into you like she can drink you dry. She hums around you, vibrating against your clit, her teeth occasionally grazing you lightly, making you squeak and rock harder into her mouth.

“Fuck… don’t stop,” you gasp, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer without thought, letting her tongue drive you wild. Ellie growls, a little breathless, letting her tongue curl and press firmly against your entrance while flicking upwards over your sensitive bud repeatedly.

The coil in your stomach tightens, every lick and suck hitting your nerve endings just right. Ellie’s lips part in a desperate, messy gasp as she watches you lose yourself above her, completely addicted to the way you’re responding to her mouth. She’s insatiable, and every second feels hotter, wetter, and more impossible than the last.

You can feel it building, the heat spreading from your core to every nerve ending, and Ellie senses it too—her hums and groans growing more frantic, needy, as if she’s in the same storm as you. She presses her tongue deeper, her lips and mouth consuming you as you start to ride her with abandon, shivering, bucking, and crying out softly.

And then it hits—your release, a shuddering, trembling explosion of pleasure that makes your body tighten, legs quivering, hands clutching her hair as you ride out your orgasm on her face. Ellie doesn’t stop—she keeps lapping and sucking, her hums vibrating through you, making you tremble and gasp until every last wave washes through you.

By the time you collapse onto her, breathless, sweaty, and trembling, Ellie’s face is flushed, eyes glinting with that triumphant, messy grin that makes your heart skip. She sits back slightly, letting you collapse onto her, still mumbling under her breath.

“You… taste like heaven,” she murmurs, brushing your hair from your face, one hand still resting possessively on your hip. You lean down, kissing her temple softly, grinning, and she smirks, already plotting the next time she can get you like this again.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Paige x f!reader

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: You accidentally let slip on livestream that Paige is your wife, and suddenly the chat goes feral. Paige wasn’t supposed to hear it—except she walks in at the worst possible moment.

You had gone live mostly because your fans begged you to. They hadn’t seen you in a while, and with Paige gone at practice all day, you figured why not? Just a casual Q&A, maybe a few silly filters, and an excuse to distract yourself from the silence of the apartment.

The ring light cast a soft glow over your face as you scrolled through the comments.

“Where’s Paige?”

“Are you two still together?”

“Tell her we love her!”

You smiled, brushing stray hair behind your ear. “Yes, Paige is still my girlfriend, and yes, we’re very much together. She just got out of practice, so she should be home soon.”

The chat spammed heart emojis, flooding with excitement, and you laughed, sipping from your water.

And then—without thinking, without hesitation—you said it:

“Actually… my wife just came back from training, I think.”

It slipped out like second nature, like you’d said it a thousand times before.

Your brain stalled. The chat froze for a second before exploding—

“WAIT. WIFE???”

“HELLO???? WIFE??????”

“IS THIS A JOKE???”

“DID WE MISS A WEDDING???”

Your stomach dropped as the realization sank in. You slapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide at the camera. “I—I didn’t mean—oh my god—no one heard that.”

But of course, they did.

The chat was already clipped, screenshotted, immortalized. Your mentions on Twitter were probably blowing up already.

And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, you heard the front door click open.

“Babe?” Paige’s voice drifted through the apartment, tired but warm, her sneakers squeaking as she set her bag down.

Your blood turned to ice.

The chat went feral.

“PAIGE IS HOME.”

“SHE’S GONNA HEAR.”

“RUN.”

You barely had time to mute yourself before Paige appeared in frame, hair slightly damp from showering at the facility, hoodie half-zipped and her cheeks still flushed from practice. She leaned down, resting her chin on your shoulder like she always did when she came home, her blue eyes flicking toward your phone screen.

“Hi, guys,” she said softly, offering a little wave.

The comment section combusted.

“HI WIFE.”

“OMG OMG OMG SHE’S RIGHT THERE.”

“DOES SHE KNOW???”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat. You swallowed hard, forcing a shaky laugh. “Uh, babe, you don’t have to—”

Paige squinted at the scrolling comments, her brows knitting together. “...Wife?”

Your whole body tensed. You prayed the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

“I—uh—” you stammered, cheeks burning so hot you could’ve lit the entire room. “It just—it slipped out, I swear.”

Paige blinked at you, expression unreadable for a long, terrifying moment. The chat was screaming, begging for answers, spiraling into chaos.

And then Paige smirked. That mischievous, all-too-knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.

“Wife, huh?” she said, her voice low enough that the viewers barely caught it, but loud enough to make you choke on your own air. She leaned closer, lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “Guess I don’t mind the sound of that.”

You froze, staring at the screen while the fans lost their collective minds.

“HELLO????”

“DID SHE JUST—???”

“WE’RE GETTING FED TONIGHT.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate all of you,” you muttered, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrayed you. Paige laughed behind you, pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head before slipping away toward the kitchen like nothing had happened.

And just before she disappeared down the hall, she threw a glance back at the camera and said, “Don’t worry, chat. I’ll make sure she gets used to calling me that.”

The comments nearly broke your phone.

You ended the live in a panic, tossing your phone onto the couch and collapsing into your hands. Your heart was racing, your face a mess of red, but under it all was the quiet, undeniable truth: maybe you hadn’t slipped after all. Maybe “wife” had always felt right.

And from the way Paige looked at you when she came back with two glasses of water and that same smug smile, you had a feeling she thought so too.

"𝗨𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗻"

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Paige x f! reader

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 -

Paige has never lied to you—until now. When she comes home after practice, looking off-balance and exhausted, you know something’s wrong. She brushes it off, but the truth surfaces when you find the bruising and swelling she tried to hide. Anger and worry collide, but one thing is certain: whether she likes it or not, you’re taking care of her.

The door swings open, and you barely have time to look up before Paige walks in, dropping her bag by the entrance. Something is off immediately. Her posture, the way she moves—stiff, slow, hesitant. Paige is never hesitant.

"Hey, baby," she greets, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She looks drained, her usual confident stride replaced with something almost shaky.

You narrow your eyes. "Hey," you say slowly, getting up from the couch and making your way toward her. "Rough practice?"

"Yeah, just a long one." She stretches her arms above her head, but you notice the slight wince, the way she tenses when she lowers them. "Coach ran us hard today."

You don't buy it. Not for a second. Paige has been through grueling practices before, and she’s never looked this weak—this fragile.

She walks toward the kitchen, her movements unnaturally stiff, and you follow, watching her carefully. "Are you hungry? I made pasta—"

"Nah, I'm good. Just need a shower."

Another red flag. Paige never turns down your cooking.

You step in front of her, blocking her path. "Paige," you say firmly, crossing your arms. "What’s going on?"

She laughs, but it’s forced. "Nothing, babe. I swear. Just tired."

"You’re a terrible liar."

She huffs, rolling her eyes. "I’m fine. I just need to shower, okay?"

You let her go, but the unease in your chest only grows. Something isn’t right. And you’re going to find out what.

Later that night, Paige is curled up in bed, her breathing even but her body tense. She’s asleep, but not deeply. Carefully, you pull back the blanket, eyes scanning her frame. Then, under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you see it.

Her right knee. Swollen. Bruised.

Your stomach twists in anger and worry. She lied to you.

Gritting your teeth, you slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, grabbing ice packs and pain relief cream. When you return, you sit beside her, gently pressing the ice against her knee. Paige stirs, sucking in a sharp breath before her eyes flutter open.

"What the hell?" she mumbles sleepily, wincing as she tries to pull away.

"Don't. Move." Your voice is tight, holding back the frustration brewing inside you.

She looks at you, blinking as if trying to come up with another excuse, but she sees it—the look—the one that says you’re not letting this slide.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" you ask, voice softer now but no less firm.

She sighs, running a hand over her face. "Because I knew you’d worry."

"Of course, I’d worry! You’re hurt, Paige. And you lied to me." The sting of those words lingers in the air. "You never lie to me."

She swallows hard, guilt flashing in her eyes. "I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it. I thought if I ignored it, it would be fine."

You exhale, trying to reign in your frustration. "That’s not how injuries work. And you know that."

She looks away, jaw tight, but you can see the exhaustion weighing on her. Slowly, you reach out, brushing a hand over her cheek. "You don't have to handle this alone. You shouldn't handle this alone."

Paige leans into your touch, her defenses crumbling. "I’m sorry," she murmurs. "I didn’t mean to lie."

You nod, still upset, but love outweighs anger. "Just let me take care of you, okay? No more hiding."

She hesitates, but then she exhales, finally surrendering. "Okay."

You spend the next few minutes tending to her injury, massaging her leg gently, icing it in intervals. The tension in her body eases, and she lets out a content sigh.

When you’re done, she pulls you down beside her, arms wrapping around your waist. "You’re mad at me, huh?"

"Oh, so mad," you tease, running your fingers through her hair. "But I love you more than I’m mad."

She smiles against your neck. "I love you too. And I promise—no more lies."

You sigh, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good. Because next time, I will make a big deal out of it."

Paige chuckles, squeezing you tighter. "Wouldn’t expect anything less."

"𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗪𝗮𝘆"

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Caitlin Clark x f! reader

𝙎𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 -

Caitlin was always mine in secret, but when she kissed me in front of everyone, I knew she wasn’t hiding us anymore.

You never thought being in love with Caitlin Clark would be this hard.

Not because of her, no — she was perfect in every way. The sweetest, softest person when it was just the two of you. She loved you so openly behind closed doors that sometimes you wondered how she managed to hide it so well when you stepped out into the world.

Because no one knew. Not your friends. Not your family. Not even her closest teammates.

For six months now, you and Caitlin had been quietly, carefully, loving each other in secret. It started because she was worried — worried about what people would say, how the media would twist it, how fans would react. You understood. You really did. But as weeks turned into months, and the feelings between you grew deeper and more serious, you couldn’t help but ache to just be hers without fear.

Tonight was supposed to be one of those nights where you stood quietly on the sidelines, watching her shine, keeping your love tucked away like a secret burning in your chest.

The arena was packed, fans screaming her name, the energy vibrating through the air. You watched her from your usual spot — close enough to see every flicker of emotion on her face, far enough that no one would question why you were always there.

She was on fire. Every shot she took was perfect, every move calculated and fierce. You could see it in her eyes — that focus, that determination, but also something else. Something softer that only you knew to look for.

The game was close, but Caitlin took over in the way only she could. Three after three, pushing the team ahead. You could see her jaw set, her chest heaving as she drove to the basket and made another impossible layup, the crowd exploding in cheers.

And when the final buzzer rang, when her team took the win and she stood there, arms thrown in the air as her teammates surrounded her, lifting her up, you felt a pride so deep it made your chest hurt.

You clapped, smiling so big it felt impossible to hide, even though you knew you had to.

She was the star tonight. MVP. And yet, as she held her trophy, you noticed her looking around, scanning the crowd. Her eyes were searching — and when they landed on you, it felt like your whole world stopped moving.

It was a look only you knew. Soft, but intense. Like she was asking you for something. Like she was needing something.

You swallowed hard, glancing away, but when you looked back up, she was still staring. And then she was moving.

At first, you thought maybe she was headed toward her team or a coach, but no — Caitlin was walking straight toward you, determination in her every step.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

She reached you in seconds, ignoring everyone calling her name, every camera flashing in her face, and before you could even speak, she grabbed you by the waist and kissed you right there in front of everyone.

It was nothing like the soft kisses you shared in her apartment, when she would curl her fingers in your hair and smile against your lips.

This kiss was hungry. Desperate. Like she had been waiting too long to finally claim you.

You gasped softly, but she didn’t give you a chance to breathe, her hands holding your waist tightly like she was afraid you’d pull away. You didn’t. You couldn’t. Your fingers clung to her jersey, and you kissed her back with everything you had, pouring all the months of love and frustration and aching into that kiss.

Around you, the arena was roaring. People shouting, clapping, cameras clicking non-stop — but you didn’t hear any of it.

All you could hear was Caitlin’s shaky breath when she finally pulled back, her forehead pressed to yours, her eyes filled with something raw and vulnerable.

"Hi," she whispered, voice soft but still out of breath.

You stared at her, completely overwhelmed, heart racing so fast you thought you might pass out.

“Cait…” you breathed, but she only smiled, her hands still holding you like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“I’m done hiding,” she said suddenly, her voice stronger now. “I don’t care who knows. I don’t care what anyone says. You’re mine.”

Tears stung your eyes at her words, so full of emotion and meaning.

"I love you," she added quietly, her thumb brushing your cheek, and you could see she meant it. Like she had never meant anything more in her life.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until she kissed the tears away, soft kisses on your cheeks that made your heart ache even more.

"I love you too," you whispered shakily, and she let out a soft laugh, resting her forehead against yours again.

“I wanted to win for you,” she confessed, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist now, holding you against her chest. “I wanted to win and then finally show everyone who my girl is.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh against her shoulder.

“Well… you definitely did that,” you whispered, and she chuckled, kissing the side of your head.

“I don’t care anymore,” she murmured. “I want everyone to know. You’ve been mine since the beginning, and I’m not hiding that for one more second.”

Your fingers gripped her jersey tighter, and she hugged you even closer, her heart pounding against yours.

“I was so scared,” you admitted quietly. “I thought we’d always have to hide.”

“Not anymore,” she promised, her voice fierce and full of love. “I’m not letting anyone make me hide you again.”

You pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, and what you saw there — love, devotion, pride — made your breath catch all over again.

Her hands framed your face, and she smiled, wiping your tears with her thumbs.

“You’re mine,” she said softly, like a vow. “And I’m yours. Always.”

Before you could say anything else, she leaned in and kissed you again — softer this time, but still filled with all the things she couldn’t say out loud.

And when you finally pulled away, you realized the whole world had just seen Caitlin Clark, MVP, kissing her girl like she never wanted to stop.

You smiled, your fingers tangling with hers as she held your hand tightly, walking off the court with you at her side, like she wanted everyone to know she wasn’t going to let you go.

From now on, you weren’t her secret anymore.

You were hers. In every way that mattered.

And she was yours.

Author's note -

"𝗥𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗹 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀"

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Paige x f!reader

Synopsis -

You're a rising star on a rival team, and the media LOVES pitting you two against each other. What they don’t know? You’re secretly hooking up off the court. But when real feelings start to bloom, things get complicated—and messy.

Word Count: 3.3k

The tension between you and Paige Bueckers could fill an entire arena.

Every time you step on the court, it’s the same dance—sharp words exchanged under your breath, shoves masked as "defense", and those lingering stares that make both crowds and commentators buzz with speculation.

They call it the rivalry of the season.

If only they knew the truth.

If only they knew that last night, Paige had you pinned against the wall of her hotel room, lips on your neck, hands tracing every inch of you like she couldn’t get close enough.

But today? Today, she’s smirking at you from across the court, blue eyes sparkling like she knows she got under your skin—because she did.

And now you’re standing at the free-throw line, trying to focus, trying to ignore the way her gaze lingers on you like a physical touch.

“You gonna make it, or choke like usual?” she taunts, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shoot her a glare, lips twitching despite yourself. “You wish, Bueckers.”

The ball hits the rim and swishes through the net.

Crowd erupts.

But your heart's thudding for a different reason.

Because later, when the final buzzer sounds and your team barely edges out the win, you can feel her burning gaze as you head toward the locker room.

And sure enough, as soon as you’re alone, still high off adrenaline and sweat, Paige appears like she owns the place—leaning casually against the door, arms crossed, that damn smirk still there.

“Congrats on the win,” she says, voice low, teasing. “Guess even you get lucky sometimes.”

You roll your eyes, tossing your jersey onto the bench. “Funny. Pretty sure I earned that win. Maybe you’re just slipping.”

She raises a brow, stepping closer, eyes scanning you in a way that makes your breath catch—because now it’s just the two of you, and no one can see how she looks at you like that.

"Slipping?" she echoes, now inches away. "You didn’t seem to think so last night."

Your heart stutters.

Because damn her. She always does this—taunts you until you snap, until you want her again, even though you know how complicated it is.

“You’re cocky for someone who just lost,” you mutter, but your voice is softer, weaker than you want it to be, because her hand is now resting on your hip, fingers curling into your skin like she belongs there.

“I don’t mind losing to you,” she murmurs, leaning in, lips grazing your ear. “But I’m not leaving here without getting what I want.”

“And what’s that?” you whisper, though you already know.

She pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You.”

The word hits you hard—because you don’t know if she means just for tonight, or if she’s finally admitting to more.

Because you feel more. And that’s what makes this dangerous.

Still, your hands find her waist before you can stop yourself, pulling her close. “You’re a mess, Bueckers.”

“And you love it.”

You hate how right she is.

Her lips are on yours before you can reply, hot and desperate, tasting like the energy of the game still lingering in both of you. She kisses like she plays—aggressive, relentless, like she’s fighting for control.

But tonight, you fight back—pushing her against the locker, nails dragging lightly over her arms, making her shiver.

"Thought you were tired after all that losing," you tease against her lips, smirking when she groans softly.

“You talk too much,” she breathes, tilting her head to kiss you harder, deeper, like she wants to drown out every word.

But when you pull back, breathless, there’s something raw in her eyes—something that makes your chest tighten.

“Why do we do this?” you whisper, fingers still tangled in her jersey. “Act like we hate each other when…”

When I’m scared I might actually love you.

Her hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a rare gentle touch. “Because it’s easier than admitting what this is,” she says quietly.

You swallow hard, leaning into her touch without meaning to. “And what is this?”

Her eyes search yours, vulnerable in a way that knocks the air out of you. “I don’t know," she whispers. "But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you every second of the day.”

You feel like you can’t breathe. Because for the first time, the mask is gone—no smirks, no snarky comebacks. Just Paige.

“Paige…”

Her name feels strange on your tongue when it’s not said with an edge.

She leans her forehead against yours, closing her eyes. “I know we’re supposed to be rivals. I know everyone’s watching. But when I’m with you… I don’t care about any of that.”

Your heart aches. Because you know exactly what she means.

“I don’t wanna hide anymore,” you admit quietly.

She lets out a soft, shaky laugh, pulling you closer, her arms around your waist now. “Good. Because I don’t think I can.”

There’s a knock on the locker room door, a voice calling her name, and reality comes crashing back—but she doesn’t let you go.

"Come over later?" she whispers, hopeful, vulnerable.

You nod, eyes locked on hers. “Yeah.”

She smiles—soft and real—and presses one last kiss to your lips, like a promise.

As she walks away, you realize the rivalry might still play out in public, but behind closed doors?

She’s yours.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be more than a game.