you can’t remember the last time you willingly left the gym for something that didn’t involve suicides, film review, or hudy yelling that your “legs better be moving faster than your excuses.” and yet here you are, being physically dragged—like, actually dragged—through the gates of the minnesota state fair by paige bueckers, who is glowing like she’s hosting a disney channel summer special.

her hand is looped through your arm, warm and determined, her grin so bright it makes the sun feel like it’s underperforming.

“you know you love this,” she says, bouncing on her toes like she’s pre-gaming for happiness. “don’t lie. i can literally see it in your eyes.”

you raise a brow. “p, i see chaos. i see screaming kids. i see someone about to drop powdered sugar on my hoodie. please explain where the love is supposed to be.”

she gasps like you personally offended the state of minnesota.

“first of all, your hoodie? is literally mine. second—this is the best part of the entire summer.”

before you can respond, she tugs you toward the first food stand with the force of someone who refuses to let joy be optional.

“deep-fried cheese curds,” she announces like a preacher at a podium. “mandatory experience. if you don’t eat them, i will haunt you.”

“so threats? that’s how the day starts?”

she smirks, handing you a tray like it’s a peace offering she already knows you’ll lose to.

“it’s more of a promise.”

you take a bite—hot, crispy, dangerously good. your eyes flutter without your consent.

“…okay. that’s actually kinda fire.”

“kinda?” she echoes, stepping close enough that her shoulder brushes yours, barely-there contact that still leaves warmth behind. “this is life changing. especially when i’m the one sharing it with you.”

you roll your eyes because if you give her the satisfaction you’ll never hear the end of it, but there’s a smile trying to break out, and she definitely sees it.

the fair noise wraps around you—bells ringing, kids yelling, the smell of sugar and grease settling in the air like fog. paige keeps glancing at you, tiny little checks to make sure you’re still next to her, still walking with her through all this noise and color.

and then of course she stops at a cotton candy booth like her feet are magnetized.

“round two,” she says, grabbing a pink cloud and passing you your own like you ordered it. “no skipping.”

“paige. how are you even still hungry?”

she leans in, sugar-sweet on her breath. “i wait all year for this. we have, like, seven more things to try.”

“you’re insane.”

“yet you’re still eating with me” she sings.

your cheeks? traitors. instant warmth.

you pretend not to notice.

—

paige picks up a ball and spins it on her fingertip like she’s trying to get scouted by a carnival recruiter.

“so,” she says, eyebrows raised, “should i lower the hoop for you or…?”

“we’re literally on the same team,” you deadpan. “don’t play with me.”

you shoot.

it bounces off the rim like it’s rejecting you personally.

paige doubles over laughing—hand on her stomach, head thrown back, doing way too much.

“strong start,” she teases.

“strategic warm-up,” you mutter. “don’t get too proud.”

she sinks hers immediately, holding her arms up like she just clinched an overtime win. “perfection. i’m built different.”

“yeah,” you say, unbothered. “you’re something.”

she bumps her shoulder into yours, a soft, lingering nudge. “you’re nervous.”

“i’m annoyed by your face.”

you pause, pretending to adjust your ponytail, mostly to hide the truth pulling at your mouth.

“…and maybe a little nervous.”

her smile softens for half a second—barely-there, quiet, warmer than it should be before she covers it with another laugh.

you go back and forth, trading trash talk and tiny touches, shoulders brushing, fingers grazing, glances that last one second too long.

your chest feels too small for all of it.

—

“watch this,” she declares, tossing a ring with fake confidence.

it bounces off so fast you swear the carny winces.

you clap slow. “inspirational.”

you toss yours. it lands perfectly.

she blinks at the ring, then at you, pure outrage brewing. “nah. no way. that was luck.”

“that was skills,” you say, stepping a little closer, the space between you shrinking on its own.

she leans in, her voice dropping. “i want a rematch.”

you swallow, trying not to stare at her mouth.

“then come get it.”

there’s a quiet moment where she just… smiles. soft. a little dangerous. like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

—

paige shoves a fried cookie ice cream sandwich at you like she’s handing you the cure to sadness.

“one bite.”

“i’m gonna look stupid.”

“no,” she says, licking her own ice cream, then leaning in to swipe a bit of yours with her thumb. “you’re cute.”

you freeze. “why would you—”

“i’m putting you on,” she says simply, like it’s obvious. “now take the damn bite.”

you do. it’s insanely good. she watches your reaction like she’s cataloguing it for later.

and it makes you warm in places you don’t want to name.

—

it starts small—one girl with a phone, shy smile, nervous wave.

“paige! can we get a picture?”

paige lights up, waving her over. you step back automatically, used to letting her have her moment.

but paige doesn’t even hesitate—she reaches back and hooks her fingers into your hoodie sleeve, tugging you into the frame with her.

her breath grazes your ear as she whispers, “don’t act like you don’t love standing next to me.”

“don’t act like you’re not annoying.”

“mm. but charming?”

you shrug. “unfortunately.”

she beams like she just won something.

—

you think you’ve escaped the tension by keeping everything loud and chaotic and sugary.

but then she takes your hand—not teasing, not joking—just quietly taking it. like she’s asking without words.

“last ride,” she says, voice soft around the edges. “come on.”

you let her lead you up into the gondola, metal creaking as you climb in. the fair shrinks below, all noise and lights turning into a blur. golden hour spills across her face like it’s choosing her on purpose.

this is when her confidence slips.

her fingers tap the metal bench, restless. she’s not looking at you, and that alone is enough to tighten your chest.

“you’ve been avoiding this,” she says finally, voice barely audible over the wheel.

your throat tightens. “avoiding what?”

her eyes lift, soft and searching.

“us.”

your breath snags. your thumb drags along the hem of your shorts just to give your hands something to do.

“i… didn’t know how to start.”

“me neither.” she laughs quietly, nervous. “but i—god.” she shakes her head, blonde hair falling into her eyes. “i’ve wanted to talk about it forever.”

the wheel creaks. the car sways gently. everything feels suspended, like the world is holding its breath with you.

“how long?” you ask.

she exhales, slow, vulnerable, her fingers brushing yours—just barely at first, then deliberately.

“freshman year,” she admits. “i tried to ignore it. team first, all that stuff. but you… you’re kinda impossible to ignore.”

your chest squeezes painfully. “yeah,” you whisper. “same.”

she looks at you like you’re the only thing she’s seeing clearly.

and then she leans in.

slow. gentle. like she’s giving you every moment to pull away.

your hands find her shirt. hers cup your jaw. the kiss deepens, soft then sure, pulling something loose inside your chest that’s been tight for way too long.

the ferris wheel keeps turning, the city glowing below, golden hour wrapping around the two of you like a secret.

she pulls back just barely, her forehead resting against yours, breath warm on your lips.

“been thinking about kissing you since the cheese curds,” she whispers.

you grin, breathless. “i’ve been thinking about it since i stole your hoodie.”

she nudges her nose against yours—shy in a way you’ve never seen.

“so… what now?”

you lace your fingers with hers, squeezing.

“now we stop pretending.”

she smiles—soft and relieved and completely yours.

and maybe you don’t have to guard your heart when she holds it like this.

because paige?

-

Paige wasn’t one to dwell, but her patience had been wearing thin for a while. It wasn’t just a bad day, but the entire week felt as if everything was piled against her. Hell, it had been a shitty month, shitty start to a new season and her patience was as if being shaved off one layer at a time.

It all started with a minor sprain in her ankle in the first game of the late spring. It didn’t feel bad at all, but the doctor insisted she rest a few games. She complied, like she always did, although she knew her body better than anyone. And she knew she didn’t have to miss shit. Still, it could’ve been plenty worse - so she was grateful. Or tried to be. 

Finally back in the game, Paige was eager to show what she was coming back with - only to find the missed practices lost to trips to the Bahamas and some responsible-ish daydrinking had conjured a significant loss in her stamina. Funny, since she didn’t recount a lack of cardio on her trip. In fact it had seemed the entire point - to take a pretty girl to a pretty beach house and fuck her brains out. Now she couldn’t seem to see any point in any of it. Why try to impress some girl who will be gone in a few months just to lose what she had been building her whole career?

So she grew agitated, bitter even. After all it was entirely on you, the missed training, the overlooked routine and hard-learned discipline - all lost because of a girl. How could she have been so stupid?

It didn’t surprise you even a tad when she began to snap at you. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. From the beginning, Paige told you she wasn’t the dating type. That she never wanted to be anyone’s girlfriend, that she had nothing left to give. You overlooked it, of course you did. Because there were trips to the Bahamas and because she had those baby blue eyes and that hoarse voice that dropped only for you. You never had a choice from the beginning but to comply. Relationship or not, the biceps and the money and the grin were worth experiencing, even if for a fleeting moment.

The last months had been a fairytale that you found yourself rooting for. It didn’t matter how many warnings she issued of her fickle nature - how boredom would eventually take over and she’d leave without a trace. You told yourself you could take it, but fear washed over every time she pulled away. Even a little bit. And there had been a lot of that in the last month, after all she blamed you for her bad start. It was easier than blaming herself.

“Fuck,” Paige swears, still sweaty from the earlier game causing her skin to itch. She didn’t see a point, it was so hot she would’ve sweat it all back on the drive home. She had left without a word, not caring about post-game conduct. Shooting 4/17 will do that to anyone.

She goes through the notions of washing up, hoping to shower away the anger seething beneath her burning skin. Of course it doesn’t, no matter how cold the water turned as she stood and stood underneath the stream. Nothing changed. She was still herself and wanted to forget.

More often in these moments all she wanted was to drown in someone else. But for the last months it had only been you. And her ego was far too great to admit she needed you right now, especially after not texting you once since telling you off last week after another flop of a game.

Sitting legs spread in a loosely tied robe at the end of her bed, hair dripping water on her blanket, she considers it - going out and picking up someone new. Someone who wasn’t as stubborn and as bitchy as you could be. Who didn’t demand the things you did. After all, you two were only fucking. That’s all. Don’t let the trips and the gifts fool you. This was not a relationship.

But then again, it was the bitchiness she adored. And the way you let her lay on your chest after it was all done, and how you laughed at all her jokes. It’s not like every girl made her feel like that deep inside, no matter how much you pissed her off and distracted her from what really mattered.

Her long fingers toy with the phone on her lap, flipping it around over and over, grinding her teeth together as she mulls it over. It could be anyone new in her bed with just a few calls. But none of them were you.

Fast, so she can’t change her mind, Paige swipes for your contact, shivering at the icy messages she left on read.

Ur not my gf so stop acting needy Ur tripping I got my own shit to deal with

i literally just asked what u were doing tomorrow overreacting bad whatever paige go deal with ur shit

The texts only remind her of that night, and how angry she had been. She can still feel it, sizzling away, threatening to spill over. Reading your words over and over only adds fuel to the fire. Telling her she’s overreacting? Bad move. No wonder she didn’t want to talk to you.

Realising this is a bad idea, she’s about to shut her phone when curiosity takes over. It’s not like you ever left your apartment, but she just wanted to check. No real reason, she just liked knowing where you were. Even if you were clueless that she had turned on your location to herself a few weeks ago. Only out of curiosity.

All of a sudden, even the softness of the robe doesn’t smooth her nerves over. Because you’re not home, not at all. The little icon flashes green in a part of the city she never wants to see you at - especially not without her. With all the most notorious clubs of Dallas. For a second she thinks it’s a mistake. How could you even get in? You’re basically a nobody without her. Her grip tightens around the phone, veins popping into view under the thin skin of her hands.

Paige’s face turns bright red. Her pulse quickens enough to make her chest feel tight. Something resembling jealousy, anxiety and rage takes over. When it settles in her stomach, her patience isn’t wearing off anymore. It snaps in half. 

She’s in some sort of haze, unsure how she even gets dressed or makes her way to the car. Hell, she can barely remember the drive to the club through the anger. All she recalls is the trembling of her hands and the impatient groans at every red light. She’s certain she ignored a few. It’s far from safe but it’s not like her brain is working at its full capacity. How could it, when it’s going through every horrible scenario she can muster.

It seems like she doesn’t press on the break once until she arrives to her destination, parking the car in such a haste she ignored the no parking sign entirely. Who cares, if she gets a ticket she’ll just pay it off. It’s not like it mattered.

Clad in a grey matching sweatsuit, the crowds of people dressed in their finest stare enviously as Paige walks inside skipping the line completely. The evening is as humid as the day, not bringing on any relief from the heat. The bouncer naturally lets her in with a mere glance at her - she was a regular, and Paige Bueckers after all.

The club is packed, even more sweaty and humid than the outside somehow. Not even the bass travelling across the sticky floors can steady Paige’s irritation. How did she in her right mind think you’d make any good choices for yourself? How did she leave you unwatched at all? You clearly needed a babysitter since you loved getting in harm’s way - starting with getting involved with her in the first place.

Her stomach turns as she looks around for any feeble sign of you. She pushes through the crowd, unbothered about the mess she’s causing and the drinks she’s spilling. She couldn’t care less about anything but finding you and getting you home. People recognise her, even smile her way, but she doesn’t care enough to return it. Her face stays stiff as stone, brows furrowed as she looks everywhere.

When she leans over the balcony to look down onto the dancefloor, her worst fears are realised. Suddenly it makes sense how you got in, dressed in such a revealing way, the open back of your dress leaving your skin bare as low as it possibly can without revealing too much. Although, too much is such a subjective term. To Paige that limit had already been reached. Who the hell do you think you are?

“Jesus fucking christ,” she murmurs, low enough for no one to hear over the ear-deafening music. She felt all kinds of possessive seeing you like this, a stranger’s hands on your hips as you dance against the intruder, movements sloppy enough to tell Paige you’re drunk. Too drunk to be here on your own, let alone to make good choices. You could barely do that sober. You could be such an idiot sometimes.

Clasping onto the railing, Paige hurries down the stairs frantically, dodging drunk people to the best of her ability without losing sight of you. She’s seething, biting down on her tongue to keep it from going off. Fine, make a fool of yourself, but this strange girl had to get her hands off of you now.

“You gotta be out of your damn mind.”

Her voice is enough to snap you out of the drunken trance you’re in, eyes flickering open. It’s her, you know it is. A sick kind of satisfaction washes over you, until the annoyance settles in. Not a word for a week and suddenly she’s here, acting like a damn babysitter.

“Hi Paige,” you grin as if her very appearance doesn’t affect you at all. You’ve half-forgotten about the girl behind you, until her lips come to your earlobe and nibble it gently.

She’s fuming, her face bright red staring down the girl touching on you far too much. Paige ignored her instead, grabbing your wrist as she tried to compose herself.

“We’re leaving,” she simply states, not bothering to ask for your opinion. She couldn’t care less about it, or anything that you had to say.

“I’m not going nowhere,” you grunt, pulling your hand back with force that surprises both of you.

“She bothering you baby?” The girl behind you murmurs in a low voice, still glued to your neck. The taste of tequila from your drink lingers on your tongue as you sip the rest of it in defiance, to show Paige you’re not ready to go home yet.

“She’s leaving,” you state, eyes locked into her blue ones. Though they’re barely vibrant, mostly black - her pupils blown as she stares you down from inches above you. A shiver shoots up your spine when she raises her brows. Not in shock but in irritated amusement. 

“No the fuck I’m not,” Paige answers, a smirk toying at her lips. This cat and mouse game would’ve been a million times more entertaining if you weren’t so hurt by the way she’d blown you off like you were nothing. In her defense though, she had warned you.

You eye her up and down, taking in the tracksuit. God this would be easier if she wasn’t so gorgeous, and if the band of her sweatpants wasn’t so low you could see her navy blue boxers.

“You’re not dressed for the club.”

Paige snickers. “You’re barely dressed yourself.”

“What’s it to you?” You argue, the irritation growing heavy in your chest. A woman walks by, close enough to make you stumble in your heels far too high for how much alcohol you had in you. Paige catches you, scoffing.

“You’re dressed like a slut. It doesn’t fit you.”

“You got some nerve saying that, I don’t think my outfits are any of your business. Actually, I don’t think my life is. So scram.” There’s some real power behind the words, the tequila giving you courage to speak your mind. The girl, Sarah or something, is still hanging onto your hips, desperate to keep you hers for the night.

“You’re drunk,” Paige says in a disgusted tone, grabbing your forearm harder this time. “We’re going home.”

“I’m not going nowhere with you,” you defy her, detecting a flash of anger you’d never seen before on Paige’s face. She’s clenching her jaw, fingertips grasping at you enough to leave bruises for tomorrow.

“‘S not your choice,” she argues, yanking you towards her. With a stumble, your front presses against her and you feel it, everything you didn’t want to feel. The electricity, palpable and real. Enough to make your head spin.

“Yo, man, let go of the lady,” Sarah joins the argument, stepping between you two.

“Fuck off,” you groan, annoyed that she didn’t get the hint - she was not needed anymore. You had gotten everything you ever wanted: Paige Bueckers jealous. “This is none of your business.”

“You heard her,” Paige echoes the words, staring down the shorter girl. For a moment you think Sarah’s going to argue, but finally steps back and rolls her eyes.

“Man, why do I always pick the crazy ones.”

You would laugh, but that would mean losing the standoff. And you had lost too much of yourself to Paige already.

“She got a point, you’re fucking crazy. I would know,” she says, beginning to drag you off the dancefloor.

“No!” You fight, trying to pull away from her grasp. No luck this time. 

Everything you’re doing, every whine and defiance is only wearing Paige down more, her patience nonexistent. She had had it with you.

“I want another drink,” you whine like a petulant child, knowing it’s no good. You already lost when you felt the satisfaction of her arriving to get you.

“That’s the last thing you need,” she says sternly. “We’re going.” And it’s final.

You could scream and kick and cause a scene, and you kind of do as you whine all the way up the stairs, stumbling in your heels like a newborn baby deer. Paige murmurs all kinds of disapproving comments under her breath, simultaneously holding you upright with a hand on your waist. You can feel her pulling the deliciously short dress down with each step as it hikes up, her body fuming with anger.

She couldn’t believe you put yourself in a situation like this. Too vulnerable and weak to protect yourself, dressed like you were asking for trouble. Paige didn’t have time for a relationship, so why did you have to get her acting like a girlfriend?

“How did you even find me,” you slur out your words, the terrifying thought only popping into your head now.

“Just sit down,” Paige commands, opening the passenger side door and packing you in the car. “And don’t throw up on nothing or I’m leaving you on the street.” You both know it’s not true, but you also know not to push her. Not when she was in a mood like this.

She’s quick to make it behind the wheel, trembling hands wrapping around it and pressing down on the gas. She’s speeding in her fit of rage, knuckles turning white from the force of gripping the leather. She’s not bothered to play music, too mad to start a conversation. But with the alcohol flowing in your blood, and the bass still bumping in your ears, the silence is killing you. Especially because underneath all the partying and the outfit and the girl at the club was the gnawing fact that you missed her. Hopefully it wasn’t as obvious to Paige as it was to you.

“Were you stalking me?” You ask, an irritated tone in your voice.

“No,” Paige grins amused, but still furious,

“So what, you just happened to guess I was at the club and came to get me?”

“No,” she echoes, driving recklessly enough to make you nervous.

“Can you slow down?!”

“No.”

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, but when she makes a right there’s no doubt.

“My house.”

You cross your arms, staring out the window into the darkness. “I wanna go home.”

“No chance,” Paige grunts, voice low and hoarse as she finally eases on the gas and leans back in an attempt to relax even a little bit. It does nothing to soothe her anger, so she opts out for grinding her teeth together.

“Why do you even care?” The bitter truth comes out of your mouth in a moment of frustration. “I haven’t heard from you for a week!”

Paige shifts in her seat, clearly growing impatient. “Been busy.”

“So all of a sudden you care again?” You turn to her, dress hiking to your upper thighs. Paige’s blue eyes catch a glimpse of them, before rolling back in annoyance.

“Bro, I never said I care,” she argues, staring at the road ahead. “But you’re so damn stupid sometimes. Didn’t know what dumb thing you were gonna do next.”

“I can take care of myself,” you huff. “Don’t need you.”

“Ha,” she laughs dryly. “Yes you do. Dressed like that, going out all alone-”

“I wasn’t alone,” you argue.

“Oh right, sally or sum.”

“Sarah!” You’re honestly not sure yourself. Suddenly the car comes to a halt, pulling up at Paige’s apartment. You hadn’t been here that many times, she didn’t like people in her space. It looked so odd in the pitch black of the night. You couldn’t help but feel out of place here.

Not bothering with gentle hands, Paige throws you over her shoulder instead of watching you struggle in those heels, holding you like you weigh nothing. She doesn’t talk, lost all her patience with you and your tricks tonight.

“Can you put me down? I can walk,” you struggle, kicking the heels in the air. She doesn’t answer, merely grunts and grabs hold of your ankles as she carries you towards the apartment door. There’s no fighting, and the tequila is still making the world spin.

“Stand still for once,” Paige grunts, placing you down as she digs her pockets for the key. You nearly stumble, but there’s a railing to catch you. She’s chewing on her cheeks, too furious with you to even look your way. Your stomach drops. 

“Get in,” she commands, finally swinging the door open. You know better than to fight it, stumbling into the already lit hallway. Paige had left in such a hurry, there had been no time to shut the lights.

Without warning, your back slams against the cool wall, Paige pinning you against it by your hips. She’s looking down at you menacingly, demanding enough to make your legs tremble.

“You got no business going to that club looking like that,” she murmurs, voice dangerously low. She doesn’t miss your shivering, or the goosebumps running down your bare arms. “What were you thinking?”

“I thought I said it,” you defy her, ignoring the fear taking over your emotions. “It’s none of your business.”

Her nostrils flare, fingertips digging into the thin fabric of your dress. Paige feels as if she might explode, the idea of you daring to wear such a flimsy dress, no bra making her ears burn. Didn’t you know who you belonged to?

“What were you doing with that girl anyway?” She borderline growls, body trembling with jealousy at the thoughts running through her head, each as wild as the next.

You had never seen her like this. Sure, she could get possessive - but Paige played it cool, like she couldn’t be bothered to care. It was like night and day with her emotions laid out on the table like this. It was thrilling and terrifying.

“I dunno.”

Paige leans closer, smelling of soap and freshly washed hair. “You woulda fucked her?”

Even with those blue eyes boring into you, you refuse to break eye contact. You wouldn’t lose. Not this time.

“Maybe,” you shrug, but there’s an embarrassing wince that comes with it as she slides her fingers to your hem. You can see it in her eyes, those words drive her crazy. The idea of you with anyone but her drove her up the fucking wall.

“Wrong answer,” Paige grinds out through gritted teeth and, before you know it, is lifting up your dress and shoving her cold hand into your satin panties. The contact of her fingers in your folds brings immediate relief, making you gasp.

“Look at that,” she hums, pleased at how incredibly wet you are. It’s not for that girl at the club, it’s for her. It feels too good for you to feel embarrassed, so good you forget all about the power struggle before. How you were trying to stand your ground. It’s all over now.

“You wouldn’t be this wet for her huh?” Paige grins satisfied, staring at your contorted face through heavy lids and black lashes. “Only for me.”

“Shut up,” you argue lazily, your voice getting stuck in the back of your throat. Without warning, Paige slips two long fingers inside you, your walls already tightening around her. A loud gasp spills from your lips, impossible to hide.

“Who do you think you are?” She hisses, curling her digits against your walls deep inside you. Thank God she’s holding your hips or your legs would be far too weak to stay upright. “You belong to me.”

Those words cause a moan to escape from your parted mouth, the sound of your wetness squelching driving both of you crazy. It was so selfish and cruel of her - to claim she didn’t want you while acting like you were hers. But for some reason in your current state it only made you want her more.

Your eyes roll back as a third finger enters you, your cunt dripping enough to leave a puddle on the floor. It’s not enough to claw the wall anymore, so your hands latch onto Paige’s arms where her biceps bulge out from the effort she’s making.

“You hear that shit?” Paige pants, breathing heavy as she pumps you full slow and hard - just the way that got you begging, the way that made you close. “That’s all mine.” 

“No,” you whimper so weakly it barely comes out. Nails dig into Paige’s skin, scratching enough to leave a mark. Your moans turn loud and desperate and she knows she’s got you right where she wanted. You can keep saying no, pretending your body wasn’t all hers. She knew better.

“Tell me,” she grunts, three fingers stretching you apart. You’re so wet she’s thinking about adding a fourth. She could make it fit.

“Shit, Paige,” you gasp, core beginning to pulse desperately. God, how did she always know which buttons to push.

“That’s it ma, say my name,” she hisses, feeling herself leaking into her boxers like she was the one getting fucked. It only happened with you - something about the way your pussy felt, the sounds it made, the way you shivered and whimpered, it sent her spiraling.

“P-Paige,” you mutter, forming words becoming increasingly difficult as she fucks her fingers into you at a faster pace, reaching spots you could only dream of.

“You’re so wet,” she groans. “Such a slut.” You can’t even be bothered to be insulted. The way your body contorts and shakes makes you moan in such a way you can barely hear her. Her insults only add fuel to the fire in your abdomen, the rubber band tightening and tightening as she fills you up.

Paige feels it before you have the chance to say a word, your walls clenching around her and the silence that follows as you reach your peak. She doesn’t budge, pumping in and out of you but can’t help the way her mouth twists into a grin. No fucking way that girl from the club could’ve done that. Nah, only her. It almost makes her get off too.

High–pitched and breathy gasps escape from your mouth as you tip over the edge, Paige pinning you against the wall to keep you standing. You’re somewhere else, riding the waves of ecstasy only she could offer you, the tequila still making you bold and desperate. Thankfully getting you off like this had not done much to soothe Paige’s nerves over. No, she was still pissed, and planned to take it all out on you in the best way.

You let out a disappointed whine when Paige pulls away from you, fingers covered in your slick. She wipes them absentmindedly on her stomach, pulling off the sweatshirt it was far too hot for. Seeing her like this, black sports bra leaving her tanned arms bare, veins running down her hands, sweatpants resting low on her hips, it only made you want to go again and again and again. But you didn’t want to be that needy girl you feared you were turning into. 

“C’mon.”

She guides you to her bedroom, hand on your lower back as your heels clack against the hardwood floors. Still tipsy, you’re grateful for the way she lets you lean on her side as her fingertips dance along your naked spine. 

Paige sits on the edge of her bed where a still damp robe is laying around, kicking off the grey sweats. You follow her lead, reaching to your hem to take off the dress that had sent her to the point of a meltdown. 

“Nah, keep that shit on,” she stops you, waving you over. “The heels too.”

She enjoys watching you struggle, drunkenly swaying in your boots as you walk over, ready to straddle her. A slight smile is playing on her lips, blue eyes locked with yours as she grabs the top of your head and pushes you down on the floor instead. 

Suddenly starved, your mouth begins to water as you sit on your knees between her legs, the hardwood cool against your legs. She only let you do this on rare occasions, so you know you really drove her up the wall today.

“Gonna gimme that mouth, yeah?” She asks, voice hoarse. You have no choice but to obey.

You reach over to help her boxers off, but it’s too intimate for her so she does it alone. Your glossed lips part as you see what is revealed - she’s soaked. You can see even in the feeble light spilling in from the hallway into the dark bedroom. You could stare forever, but Paige is far too impatient, hand wrapping into your messy hair.

“I said I want those pretty lips. You too dumb to understand?” And with that, she pulls you in with enough force it surprises you. Her taste overwhelms your mouth, eyes shutting at the heavenly taste. Your tongue swirls against her folds, a whimper vibrating against her. Paige is doing everything to stay quiet, biting down on her lower lip and breathing hard.

“Shit,” she whispers, praying you can’t hear. She’s muffling you with her thighs, not caring how much she’s squeezing. It feels too good to care about anything but chasing her own. Seeing you like this, on your knees looking up at her after what you had done felt more satisfying than she liked to admit.

“Ah shit, that’s it,” she groans, blunt nails digging into your scalp. It sends shivers down your body, straight into your core. Paige leans over to see that open back of the dress, the way your spine moves as you arch your back, moving your head from side to side as you lap up her clit. It’s almost embarrassing how fast you’re unravelling her.

“Those are my lips,” she hisses, pulling on your hair to get your attention. Your eyes snap open, meeting hers in the dim light. “Keep those eyes on me. Don’t stop baby.”

The nickname nearly causes your eyes to roll back, but you knew better than to defy her commands. Wrapping your lips around her clit, you suck it into your mouth gently, and then more harshly making fall back into her mattress. Paige is desperate now, twisting and squirming against the sheets. Your hands wrap around her muscular thighs, feeling their trembling. A sick satisfaction washes over you. For just a fleeting moment it felt as if you were just as in control as she was.

The moment passes far too soon. As if sensing your delusions, Paige’s eyes shoot open and she grabs the back of your head with both hands, keeping it still.

“Don’t fucking move,” she groans. “Open that mouth.”

The authoritative tone to her voice makes your knees wobbly, following after her orders and sticking your tongue out. Your face is covered in her slick, dripping from your chin when she yanks on your hair, beginning to rub herself all over your mouth, even your face. You see stars just as much as Paige does, grunting and panting desperately as she gets herself off on you. You never had any choice, you were always her plaything. A mere toy.

“Shit, that’s it,” she moans. “That’s my girl.”

The words escape before she can think more of their meaning, too frantic to get to her own peak. Your tongue lies flat as she moves herself against it, letting it brush against her clit over and over, her abs tensing and throbbing.

“Right there, right there,” Paige gasps, too far gone to think of anything but cumming all over your face. “I’ma cum, just don’t stop.” 

Her back arches off the bed, thighs squeezing the sides of your face and fingers yanking and pulling on strands of your hair as she climaxes. Low groans fill the room as you lick along her slit, drinking her up. She rides it out, pushing you away when she’s had enough.

You crawl up on the bed beside her, body still buzzing. More than anything you wanted a break, wanted to lie on her chest and listen to her heartbeat and kiss and kiss and kiss until you were both revived. But the moment your hand wraps around her bare torso, she gets up, wiping sweat off her forehead.

“Take the dress off,” she grunts, eyeing your body but refusing to meet your eyes. 

“I just need a break,” you hum, patting the spot beside you on the bed. 

She ignores your needy voice, still far too upset - images of you with that girl flash in her head like a neverending nightmare. She needs to drown herself in you, or she might say something she’ll regret.

“Take it off. The panties too,” she demands matter of factly, digging the drawers on the opposite wall for something.

It irks you, but somewhere deep down you crave for her approval - so you do as you’re told, pulling off the sheer dress and the damp panties, leaving on the heels though your toes ache more than you’d like to admit.

When Paige turns around, she’s gripping onto the far too familiar harness and a large dildo hanging off it. Instantly you’re glad you listened to her demands, licking your lips as she walks over to the edge of the bed painfully slowly.

She’s eating you with her eyes, rubbing her sharp jaw as she admires your bare body. You ignore the urge to hide beneath the sheets, letting her stare as much as she likes.

“Look at you,” she praises, still refusing to meet your eyes. You squirm against the sheets, lying down on your back. “Spread those legs open.”

She doesn’t have to tell you twice - that’s how eager you are for what’s to come. In the faint light, your legs part wide open. The sight is enough to nearly bring Paige to her knees. All of you spread out for her, swollen and throbbing, dying for whatever she might give you. She curses under her breath, beginning to put on the harness, one leg after another.

“Touch your pussy,” Paige murmurs, eyes locked onto your core. Teasing a little, your hand reaches down to your inner thigh, scratching along the skin. Slowly, one inch at a time, reaching closer and closer to your dripping cunt. A low moan tumbles out as your fingers rub lazy circles on your clit, enough to leave a wet spot underneath you on those grey sheets that surely cost more than your monthly pay.

Paige is mesmerized, mindlessly setting the strap onto her hips and tightening it from each side as she stares into your folds. It doesn’t matter how much she loved your moans and those soft whimpers - right now she needed to get you screaming, to punish you the way you deserved to be punished for everything you made her feel.

Finally finished, Paige crawls on top of you, grabbing your wrist and forcing the fingers covered in your wetness into your mouth. Her blue eyes are locked on your lips, the way they slurp and suck on each finger.

“Such a slut,” she merely says and flips you over to your stomach. Before you can react, without even rubbing into your folds, she finds your entrance and forces herself inside.

“Shit,” a loud gasp fills the room as she hits a spot inside so deep you can barely stay conscious. Paige knew exactly what she was doing, knew you could barely handle it when she hit it from the back. That it was overwhelming and too much in the best way.

Paige doesn’t give you the time to adjust, slamming her hips against you, your ass jiggling with each stroke. She doesn’t care how it feels for you, how it’s too much. She’s looking to get herself off, and the best way for that was to get a few well-intended tears out of you.

“Please, Paige, please,” you whimper pathetically, begging for God knows what - it’s not like you knew either. But your hands reach back in a feeble attempt to get her to slow down, only for her to grab them in a fit of rage and pin them against your back.

“Shut up,” she groans as if it’s her own dick she’s fucking you with. “I’m so sick of hearing you whining all the fucking time.”

You cry out, feeling her slip in and out of you with ease. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet. Struggling against her grip, Paige grips you tighter, fucking into you with such force you know she took the last week personal. Much more than you realised.

Paige pulls you up onto all fours, hands moving from your wrists to your hips. With a struggle you stay upright only to please her, and she holds onto your hips so hard you don’t have the option to fall over. Hands clawing the sheets, you gasp with each stroke, surely loud enough for the neighbours to hear. She’s so big and so deep, Paige’s brows furrowed deep in concentration. 

Soft cries spill from your lips when she reaches over and wraps her hand around your neck in an effort to quiet you down. It’s no use, it only makes you louder.

“I said shut up,” she grunts, landing a sharp smack on your ass. The sound of skin slapping and the strap slipping in and out of your soaked cunt mixing with both of your groans makes both of your heads spin.

“It’s too much,” you muster with a struggle, eyes beginning to water with each thrust. Paige is barely holding on, the strap rubbing on her clit enough to get her legs shaking. Her abs and thighs burn from the strain, but she only fastens her pace. Every cry you let out is like music to her ears. Thank God for that athlete’s stamina.

“Nah, this is what you wanted huh?” She murmurs through gritted teeth. “Wanted to get fucked like a slut. That’s why you put that dress on, huh?”

Each word, each stroke is reminding you that this is a punishment, wetness spilling out of you with each thrust. Paige doesn’t care about the mess or your whines. You’ll never disrespect her again.

“Yes,” you finally admit it. This is all you were seeking for. The dress, the heels, the club, the girl, it was all a desperate attempt to get her attention. You knew she had your location, and you knew just as well she would check it. None of it surprises Paige. She lets out a single cocky laugh, leaning over to your ear.

“I knew it,” she groans, squeezing the sides of your neck enough to make you gasp. “You’re mine.”

“Paige.”

“Tell me,” she says, almost pleading.

“I’m yours.”

Paige flips you over to face her, sweat trickling down her muscular back. She’s panting, chest heaving to get in more air. You sigh in relief knowing she had you close to tapping out.

Her eyes finally meet yours, observing your parted lips and flushed cheeks, your fluttering lashes as your trembling legs wrap around her. Paige’s gaze finally softens as she leans over and slips herself back inside you, only softer this time. More careful.

“Oh,” you gasp, exhaling heavily. She doesn’t dare to look elsewhere, watchful for every reaction she’s getting out of you. Slowly and with intention her hips grind against you, filling you slow and hard. Something takes over, Paige wouldn’t know what - but she leans down and her lips slot against yours in a tender kiss. You taste like alcohol, she tastes like sweat and peppermint. Paige Bueckers had never kissed you like this before.

Your lips move together in harmony as she digs the strap into you, making you feel every inch. Your hand flails around, desperate for something to grab, the other scratching at her muscular shoulders. Paige waivers, and unable to resist her fingers find yours and she grabs a gentle hold of your hand. 

“You’re mine,” the blonde murmurs against your lips, swollen and bruised from the kissing.

You nod feverishly, pulling her back in by her hair. “I’m yours.” It’s not news to either of you.

Paige brings your other ankle over her shoulder, in an attempt to get deeper. Her hips pick up their speed and begin to slam into you again and suddenly that knot deep within you begins to tighten and tighten.

“Oh fuck, right there,” you whimper, legs trembling. Paige pulls back from the kiss, too gone to concentrate on anything but feeling herself slip in and out of you, and the way your chest jiggles with each thrust.

“Ahh fuck,” she grunts, tightening her grip on your hand. She watches as your eyes roll back into your head, the sight nearly enough to bring about her climax. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours Paige,” you cry out, with each thrust your slick spilling out of you. Simultaneously you both look down at where your bodies meet, seeing the way she fucks herself into you, and the way your pussy molds around the strap. It only gets her to push deeper, finding a new sense of purpose to speed up.

“I know you’re close,” her voice is smooth and hoarse. “Gonna cum on my dick huh?”

You’re too far gone to speak, back arching and face contorting as you feel it build deep inside you with each thrust. Each time she pushes herself deep inside you, hitting that one spot over and over. The smell of her sweat, the grunts, the skin slapping, the squelching sound from inside you. You’re right there, teetering on the edge, legs shaking.

“Cum for me baby,” Paige demands - and just like always you do as you’re told.

The moment Paige sees those tears spill over it’s over for her, and she follows right after, precise thrusts turning sloppy and desperate. Loud grunts and whimpers fill the room as you both feel your orgasms wash over. Completely overwhelmed, you push on Paige’s thighs to stop her movements. Just to push you, she slips inside a couple more times before crashing on top of you, still holding your hand.

Trying to catch your breath, your hand flies to her blonde hair, matted and messy now. Still you brush your fingers through it.

“You want me to take it out?” Paige mumbles, the strap still inside you.

“No,” you whisper, frozen in place so she won’t move. “Let’s just stay like this a little longer.”

Paige sighs, the hot breath tickling against your skin.

“For a bit but then I’ma have to drive you home.”

-

there was no reason for it. you had slept well–all ten hours of uninterrupted sleep in the warmth of paige’s side of the bed, wrapped in her arms from behind as she breathed deeply in an even rhythm. there wasn’t a dream that thinned your sleep, nor was the temperature of the room anything but exactly how you liked it. the fan was still running the highest setting in the corner–even though paige was not the greatest fan of sleeping with a fan, but she would do anything you asked if it meant that your stress was taken away. 

yet, there was already a nauseating pit in your stomach when your eyes slowly blinked open on that breezy saturday morning. the air was brisk from the approaching winter, yet it was warm enough that the grass was a dying green rather than a blinding white. the sun was hanging in the sky with not a single cloud to be seen, shining rays into the window through the curtains that were supposed to block those out. paige would always complain about it, but you honestly didn’t mind it. it help your circadian rhythm stay in a healthy state. she had yet to change them like she said she would when she would grumble about the early morning sun hitting her eyelids, and you had to wonder if it was for your sake that she hadn’t. 

it was funny that she hadn’t yet too, because you only slept in her room on the nights before a game to help settle your nerves. it wasn’t because of the differences in your sleep environment preferences, though. it was mostly so you had time to miss each other. being on the same athletic team with the same friends at the same school in the same dorm building meant you rarely had time apart, so finding a balance was something that you both felt was important. especially when you considered that you had to prepare for life after college, where there was the possibility that you two would be across the country–or even across the ocean–from each other for long periods of time without any break to see each other.

usually sleeping in her room did wonders for your pre-game anxiety, but this time, you just couldn’t shake it. you had the deeply unsettling feeling that something would go horribly wrong during the game, but you didn’t know what. just the feeling that something wasn’t right. 

the feeling still didn’t go away when paige stirred, either. not when her arms tightened around your waist to pull your back closer against your body, not when she sighed against the back of your neck in content, or when her fingers started tracing delicate circles into the skin of your stomach. it should’ve been comforting, but it did nothing to settle you.

“good morning, sleepy head,” she whispered sleepily into your hair, though her voice sounded like she was about to drift off yet again. 

“good morning,” you said back. though, your voice must’ve been shaky, or unsure, or something, because her hand stopped tracing circles like she could tell something was wrong. that was something about paige that you truly did understand–how well she could read you even with the simplest of sentences. sometimes it felt like she could tell that you were upset based on the way you blinked your eyes. maybe she could, you didn’t know, and you would never complain because it felt nice to finally be known. 

her hand gently pushed on your stomach to turn you onto your back as she propped herself up with her other arm to get a proper look at your face. her brows were pulled together just slightly in confusion, but her expression was otherwise neutral. her strikingly blue eyes were a pool of concern as her gaze travelled over your own features to gauge how she could solve the problem. she was good at that–solving your problems whenever she possibly could. even something as simple as filling your water bottle when it was empty. 

“you okay?” she asked softly, her hand coming up to push the stray hairs off your forehead with her thumb. 

the tender tone of her voice was something you could never grow tired of. it was specifically reserved for you, you had decided. it was something that no one else got the privilege to hear–unless they were around the two of you together, of course. however, you didn’t even notice until someone else brought it up to you. you could imagine you did something similar, so it never crossed your mind before.

“yeah,” you murmured back, “just nervous about the game tonight.”

it wasn’t entirely a lie, so you leaned up to press your lips against hers in a chaste kiss to avoid any further questioning. her lips were slightly chapped from the lack of hydration during her slumber, and the fact that she had a bad habit of picking the skin when nervous, but you didn’t mind. despite her expression clearly reading that she wasn’t entirely convinced, she seemed to pick up on the fact that you didn’t want to elaborate, and decided not to push. 

she leaned down to softly press her lips against the tip of your nose, then again on your cheek, grazing them over your skin in a line down to your neck to finally part her mouth just slightly for a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point, the another. it drove you crazy in a way that you had not previously intended with your own kiss, but you could hardly complain. how could you? surely it should be considered a felony to reject paige bueckers. 

“bet i could make you feel better,” she broke her kisses to whisper against your skin, adding a low chuckle to the end. the feeling was enough to send electric waves throughout your entire body,

her hand moved from your hair to cup your jaw, her thumb gently stroking over your cheekbone like you were something delicately sacred that she was scared to break. your hands rested against the skin of her back underneath her oversized t-shirt from some random youth tournament she was a celebrity spectator at. it was absent-minded touch, though, as your mind was becoming increasingly more flooded with the thoughts of arousal swirling around. 

“paige,” you sighed, but didn’t try to stop her. it was only half of a warning, more so hesitation due to the important day ahead of you. not that she really cared, anyway.

as expected, she just hummed in response, not doing anything to halt her movements. instead, she slid her hand down from your jaw to cup your breast through your shirt–her old hopkins shirt–and circled her thumb slowly through the fabric. there was no denying that she had absolutely zero intentions to stop based on the way her hips gently shifted to slowly roll forward to grind against your hip, not enough to find any friction, but enough for you to tell that she was growing increasingly wet in her pajama pants. 

paige couldn’t lie, she was fighting every urge in her mind and body to not sink her teeth into your neck to leave a possessive bruise on your skin, so she could make sure everyone knew that you were hers. but it wasn’t a good choice to make on the day of a game, not when your coaches cared about the appearance of you all as public figures, not just basketball students on campus. it would be a particularly detrimental punishment for her, considering the coaching staff was aware of the nature of your relationship (even if them finding out was a complete accident). 

instead, she dragged her mouth further down your neck and hiked your shirt up with one hand to expose your breasts so she could leave one there–where no one, but her, would see it. you sighed again at the feeling of her teeth sinking into your skin, tangling a hand in her blonde locks at the back of her head. a soft moan escaped her own lips when you tugged on her hair.

“lemme take care of you, baby,” she practically whined, lifting her head to look you in the eyes after leaving a successful bruise in the shape of her mouth.

she didn’t wait for an answer before she was pushing herself back up to capture your lips in a bruising kiss–one far more sensual and sloppy than the previous ones. one that showed how badly she wanted you, to make you feel good. that she would do anything to see you come right now and she wouldn’t stop thinking about it until she got what she wanted–and she knew that you would give it to her. her legs slowly moved to straddle one of your thighs so that she could grind against you, furthering her argument for why you should let her.  

“please,” she tried again with a whisper into your mouth, “you know i gotchu, just let me–”

she cut herself off to stop the movement of her hips to cup you through your pants, putting pressure but not moving her fingers to feel the pulsating heat through your pants. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to, it was that the feeling still hadn’t gone away and you felt like you were only half-present in the moment. it should’ve been long gone by now, but it was still sitting deep and giving you the urge to expel whatever was left from dinner last night from your stomach.

still, you couldn’t help but buck your hips up into her hand at the feeling of her warm palm at your center. she smiled knowingly–because she knew she was getting what she wanted. not that she really had to wonder if she would, though, because really, you weren’t planning on telling her no in the first place, and she definitely knew that too. 

“shit,” you whined. “just fuck me, paige.”

without any hesitation, she adjusted her hand so she could circle her thumb over your clit, buying herself time while still giving you what you asked for as she slid her body down until her face was hovering over where you wanted it most–where she wanted to be the most. she placed quick, open-mouth kisses as she travelled; though, she paused to give extra attention to your nipples. her mouth wrapped around one, her tongue swirling around it, gently sucking, swirling her tongue around it again, and repeating on the other breast. then, she settled into a comfortable position on her stomach, a giddy grin tugging at her lips and a sparkle in her eyes in anticipation.

paige kissed your entrance through the fabric of your pants once, feeling the way you were pulsing against her lips and making you whimper quietly. the quick gesture gave you insight on how happy she was to be between your thighs. she then ran her tongue slowly up your center until she stopped at your clit, placing another quick peck there too. it felt good, though you clearly weren’t feeling as patient as she was, because you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pants to begin pulling them down.

“hey,” she said abruptly yet gently, putting her hands over yours, “be patient. i want to take my time.” 

you rolled your eyes at her, “i don’t make you wait like this.” 

a comically loud laugh sounded from her mouth at the untrue statement. it was your specialty to slow everything down and make her wait until she was squirming below you to get you to just give her what she wants. it was a mirror of her basketball play, the way she would slow down the game to set up a cohesive play rather than driving to the basket. you were just doing the same thing–not wanting to rush and make a mistake. you would hold her hips down and worship her body for hours, letting her reach her peak without letting her down, just to watch the way she would become desperate for it. 

it’s not like she could complain, though. she always got it, even if it was delayed. delayed, but never denied, you suppose.

“that’s funny. you’re a real jokester,” she replied with a fond smile, though she betrayed her–clearly false–sense of control by hooking her fingers in the waistband and basically ripping your pants off your legs.

she was very patient in all other aspects of life, just not this one. 

“that must be why you’re with me,” you mumbled absentmindedly. it wasn’t meant to be a snarky reply, really, mostly because you weren’t even sure if you were saying it in your head or out loud until you were halfway through your sentence. 

“among other things,” she agreed, then playfully blew cold air onto your clit. 

her mouth wrapping around the bud quickly replaced the sensation though, a loud moan vibrating through your body to prove how satisfied she was with finally being able to taste you after waiting so long. ignoring the fact that you two had fucked for hours before going to bed last night (because why wouldn’t you if you’re sleeping in the same bed? but you digress). 

her calloused hands wrapped around your thighs to settle them where she wanted them with your skin pressing against her cheeks, letting you engulf her fully in the warmth of your body. and it was to give her something to hold onto, eyelids dropping closed at the familiar taste. there was something so hot about the fact that you weren’t even fully undressed and that she was fully clothed as she ate your pussy with pure desperation to please you. or maybe to please herself. or maybe both. probably both. paige was a self-proclaimed munch(per the urban dictionary definition, anyway)and she was not embarrassed about it in the slightest.

you let your hands travel to grip her hair to give you something to hold onto, though it was more for her sake than your own. she loved when you pulled her hair, which at first, you thought was insane because she was normally so tender-headed that she would whine when you braided her hair. not only that, but you were also holding it back, away from her face, so she could concentrate without anything getting in her way. 

her tongue dragged through your folds torturously slow to savor the taste for later–for when she needed a little motivation to get through a task, and she could remind herself that she would be coming home to do this very same thing after it was completed. that was enough to get her to do anything–like anything. she knows she would commit some crimes just to taste you. it would be cruel to deprive her of it.

“feels s’ good,” you moaned quietly. despite the pleasure clouding your mind and keeping you from thinking about anything but her, you still had half a mind to keep quiet so as not to disturb her roommates. you wanted to stay in their good graces because knowing you two had sex was something entirely different than hearing it, obviously, and you didn’t want your sleepover privileges to be revoked.

she couldn’t even bring herself to think of a reply as she swirled her tongue in circles on your pulsing clit, but her hips rolled forward on their own accord to chase some friction to show her appreciation. she was too engrossed in your body, enjoying herself far too much to even think about making words right now. your body reacted harshly to the feeling, like it was the first time you had felt her mouth on you, by your abdomen clenching roughly. you knew she would think about it with a smug smirk on her face later, something about how she was the best at eating pussy, but you tried not to think about that. you let her relish in the satisfaction, sometimes. but more often than not, you challenged her on that. only because she just had to prove her point by showing you, of course.

usually she would add a finger or two by now, but she seemed to be allowing her mouth to speak for itself. instead of shoving a finger deep inside you, she thrusted her tongue instead to drink your arousal like it was her favorite beverage. maybe it secretly was, you didn’t know. as quickly as it began, she just as quickly returned her tongue to flick over your clit at a tantalizing speed. 

“jesus christ–fuck,” you moaned, but it was just slightly strangled. your back arched off the bed in surprise, fingers damn near trying to pull her face away from you by her hair from the speed. it was so good and so much all at once, and you practically had to strain yourself to keep your hips from thrusting up into her face.

“nuh-uh,” she hummed against you, shaking her head to make a point. her eyes flew open to make eye contact with you, and you noticed her pupils were blown wide from lust. “he’s not here. say my name, not his.”

paige’s claiming words sent a rush of heat to your abdomen that tipped you closer over the edge, making you buck your hips up into her face without permission. she couldn’t smile at the reaction yet, though, not when you still hadn’t done what she asked. it was a little hypocritical; she loved to do the opposite of what you asked too, but it was frustrating when you were the one doing it. it was funny when she did.

“say my name, baby,” she demanded, finally releasing her grip on one of your thighs to push two fingers inside you, but the slow pace of her fingers was a torturous contrast to the pace of her tongue–or maybe it was delicious. your mind was reeling over every word that you could possibly use, but the overstimulating mix of emotions was leaving your brain too jumbled to pick just one. usually, it would be a reward, but this felt more like it had punishment wrapped into it. her other hand pressed the tips of her fingers hard enough that you almost thought there would be bruises, but you knew better than that. “tell me who this pussy belongs to. i’m the one making you feel like this, not him.”

honestly, it was a little comedic that her jealousy was shining through in this moment, but more than that, it was downright hot how she wanted you all to herself like that. that even merely uttering someone else’s name was too much for her, because you were hers. not that it was ever a question, either. it was obvious that she had some jealous tendencies in general, but it really came to the forefront of her mind when she was fucking you.

“always been yours, paige,” you put emphasis on her name to further your point. if you were a little more coherent, you probably would’ve made some snarky comment, but you didn’t have enough brain power for that right now. “always–shit–always will be."

“that’s right,” she moaned in agreement, then curled her fingers in the way she knew you liked to hit the spot that made your toes curl. her own hips were grinding against nothing, pussy clenching around air, and thighs pressing themselves together to feel something. “keep talkin’ to me, mama. tell me how good i’m doin’. you know i love hearin’ it.”

it took a moment for your brain to catch up with the words coming from her mouth, but they finally did when she wrapped her lips around your clit to suck–not hard, but enough to make you moan loudly and your hips to grind your pussy against her face–snapping you back into reality. you bit your lip to quiet yourself for all but a second until you remembered what she said. 

“i wish you could see how good you look while you eat me out like this,” you said breathlessly. the quiet volume wasn’t even purposeful either, and it felt loud in your ears, but your brain was clearly off in some other world from the pure pleasure giving you false signals. “so fucking perfect.”

she hummed in satisfaction, working her tongue over you just like she knew how to for you to reach an orgasm–like she had been doing for almost four years now. that number felt too good to be true, honestly, and you were just happy to be here–to still be here. paige was adored by many, and it truly meant the world that her eyes stayed on you through it all. 

“fuck, just like that,” you moaned breathily. your hips tilted up and paused mid-air to chase the feeling, stilling in that position to prepare for your approaching orgasm as you hopelessly clenched around her fingers. “gonna come for you.”

but to be honest, paige didn’t need you to voice this aloud. she knew you inside and out at this point. she knew when you were going to come by even the slightest quiver in your breathing, so she had been singing a steady hum against you before you could even finish your thought, rubbing her fingertips over the spongy spot inside you.

you had to slap your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you clenched hard through the climax, trying to make up for the fact that her roommates had definitely heard the one moan that had been just a little too loud. still, even though she found it extremely hot when you let a loud moan slip, she thought it was even hotter when you tried to keep yourself quiet. something about feeling too good to contain yourself, she had said one time late at night. your eyes rolled to the back of your head so hard that it hurt, too, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the pain.

“that’s it,” she cooed, pulling her mouth away from you to watch in fascination the way her fingers became coated with your orgasm as she thrusted them in and out slowly. “keep her talkin’ to me. show me how good i am to you.”

her words had silenced your moans, but you couldn’t move your hand off your mouth from the pure intensity of the orgasm. every time was better than the last, you swear. you don’t know how anyone gets bored with their partners, but you suppose that not everyone has someone like paige giving them head like it was her full-time job every night. you felt bad for those who didn’t have an eater like her–truly, you felt the deepest sympathy you possibly could.

she slowly, maybe even a little reluctantly, pulled her fingers out and rested her cheek against your thigh, allowing you to come down from possibly the best morning sex to date as she gauged your reaction. she didn’t bother wiping them off before she moved her hands to gently hold your hips and trace circles with her thumbs as you tried to catch your breath. her gaze was drowning in fondness–a look of love and mesmerization that was so deep that it was hard to believe it was directed towards you. 

her cheeks were a flushed pink, eyes glassy, lips a little shiny and tinted red as she ran her tongue over them to collect any lingering taste of you, and her hair was a mess on top of her head from where your hands were settled. it was a beautiful sight to see her like this, truly, and a feeling you couldn’t quite pin down to a single word panged in your chest when you thought about how you were the only one who got the privilege of seeing her like this. 

she was quietly breathing fast with her lips slightly parted, like she was subtly trying to catch her breath without bringing your attention to it. a small smile rose to your lips without realizing, as you ran a hand through her hair to smooth it out and make it look a little more presentable (well, make it not so obvious that you just had sex, at least).

“give me a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, “then i’ll get you.” 

she shook her head with a playful smile, then sat up to lean forward and hover over you, propping herself up by resting one hand on the pillow next to your head. shockingly, because she had literally just said no, her hand dipped into her own pants. though, it was only in there for a few seconds to circle her own orgasm-coated entrance with two fingers before she was pulling it out again. she brought her fingers to your lips, and without a second thought, you wrapped them around her fingers to suck gently. they were slick with the familiar taste of her–her arousal, her orgasm–telling you that she had come in her pants just from licking your pussy.

your head bobbed like you were an expert, dragging an exaggerated moan from the back of your throat. you kept your eyes locked on hers, though she wasn’t maintaining eye contact. she was carefully watching the way your lips stretched around them, her mouth becoming dry from the way it was dropped open.

“careful,” she mumbled in quiet fascination, swallowing thickly, “if you keep doing that, imma have to fuck you again.”

you pulled off with an obscene pop, making a scene out of licking your lips and wiping your mouth with your thumb like you had just tasted the most delicious meal in the world. “promise?” 

she sighed and rolled her eyes with an amused smile. her elbow bent to allow her to lean down and give you a soft peck on the lips, then she dropped her entire body weight onto you to bury her face in your neck. mind you, the same spot that had gotten you into this in the first place. not that you could complain, not really, but if she wanted to stop, perhaps she could have picked somewhere better. still, you wrapped your arms around her back, tightening and tensing your arms to hold her down, and tangled your ankles with hers.

“i do. lemme get a nap in first, though. gotta replenish my stamina,” she whispered gently, though sleep was already soaking through her voice. she lifted her arms to rest on the pillow around your head, boxing you in.

“girl, you’ve only been awake for, like, twenty minutes,” you giggled. 

“and i spent nineteen of those fuckin’ the shit out of my girl–it’s hard work,” she mumbled so quietly that if it wasn’t for her mouth being so close to your ear, you definitely wouldn’t have heard it. “but you feel better, right? because you don’t need to be anxious about the game tonight when you’re the best player in the nation.”

and despite finding some relief from her mouth being on you, her words quickly had the feeling in your gut returning. you weren’t sure if it would’ve come back to you if you hadn’t said anything, but there was nothing you could do about it now. especially because it was the same intensity as before. everything in you telling you to just stay in bed today, to not go anywhere, but it wasn’t one of those days where this was possible.

it was game day. 

you tried to choke down the hard lump in your throat, masking it with a nervous chuckle that you could only hope she read as amusement instead. “i thought that was you?” 

“nope,” she replied definitely. whether or not she could tell that the feeling was back and swirling in your stomach was unclear, but she didn’t mention it. her body language remained calm too, her slow heartbeat contrasting your own somewhat fast rhythm. you just hoped she was chalking it up to post-sex recovery rather than nerves.

“if we go stat line for stat line–” you attempted to argue teasingly, but she quickly cut you off.

“i’on care what that shit says,” she started, tightening her arms around your head to pull you impossibly closer to her. you felt her eyelashes tickle the skin of your jaw, her forehead just barely grazing your cheekbone. “i say you’re the best. i’m always right.”

“but objectively…”

her head snapped up to look you in the eyes with a soft glare to drive her point home and show that she wasn’t playing around. “bruh, quit using big words to prove me wrong. what i say is facts,” she said, her tone stern but still fairly quiet and gentle.

you knew by now that it was damn near impossible to convince paige of anything as long as she was so sure that she was right, so you just rolled your eyes with a small shake of your head. it wasn’t a gesture to show disagreement, but rather accepting defeat.

she let her head fall down, though this time she adjusted her body so that she could rest her head next to yours on the pillow, and tightened her arms to pull you closer again. “are you gonna cuddle me or keep talking shit about my wife?”

“i’m not even talking shit,” you replied, your eyebrows knitting together in a mix of confusion and amusement. though, you began running your fingers up and down her back, letting your fingers curl every once and while to gently graze your short nails over her skin. you felt her body release the tension she had been holding and relax from the touch. 

you’d be lying if you said that you were shocked at hearing her call you her wife. that was her favorite bit to maintain, especially when someone on the team was making fun of you for literally anything, from stuttering a word to tripping during practice. she would always step in and jokingly be protective, like they were genuinely being rude, and you honestly found it hilarious how dedicated she was to the role. 

she didn’t reply, though. you couldn’t tell if it was because she was sleepy or if she just didn’t feel like continuing the conversation. you suppose it didn’t really matter either way, but it gave you a little hint when she exhaled deeply in content. her body shifted just slightly, clearly trying to get comfortable so she could fall back asleep for a little bit. 

“i love you,” she mumbled, delicately pressing her lips against your cheek. “you’re gonna have an amazing game, ’kay? career high points, type shit. then, imma lay down in this bed and let you do whatever you want to me–fuck me so good with the strap i won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

“i love you too, but weren’t you gonna do that anyway?” you pointed out.

she lifted her arm to playfully press her pointer finger to your lips and softly shush you, though her finger was slightly too far to the side since she wasn’t watching her movements. “that don’t matter. just take the w.” 

the lights of gampel pavilion were familiar and inviting, and should’ve been a comfort to you. you had walked into this arena so many times over the last four years. yet, today, it just felt unsettling–unnerving. like something was even more off than morning. everything in you was screaming to run home, to call in sick or fake an injury for the game, but you did your best to shrug it off your shoulders. it was probably just anxiety about the season. it was your last one after all, so you had a lot to prove. you weren't the kind to run from competition, even with the reputation that villanova had built for being dirty defenders. 

the game was what you would’ve expected–too many whistles, too much heat from everyone on the floor, geno running up and down the line like he was trying to win a race. the amount of times you had picked a teammate off the floor seemed to be double what it would be against any other team, and you weren’t going to lie that it didn’t frustrate you–even if you were winning. 

there were many times where you just wanted to elbow your defender to the ground because they were stuck against you like velcro, reaching in and not being called for it, but you managed to keep your composure. you were good at that–not letting your feelings seep through the cracks during gameplay. you were definitely alone in that, though, because several of your teammates had to be separated from someone on the opposing team in fear of it getting too heated. and not only the opposing team either, but the referees who clearly had money on villanova winning this game.

it was a little amusing too, you had to admit. you loved watching games where the players would get negative, but it wasn’t that fun when you were on the court with them. more often than not, it meant you had to involve yourself, so you it was only funny in certain occasions. this particular game was not one of them. 

not when the score had been within, at most, six points for the entire game, the lead trading back and forth consistently. 

it wasn’t very funny when paige was obviously frustrated, either. she was usually the rock of the team in the middle of the game. her natural, calm leadership was enough to keep everyone’s mind aligned where it needed to be, because she was able to slow down to make that happen. today, though, she was getting caught up in her emotions, and you were almost convinced she would have a technical by the end.

the buzzer indicating that the mid-third quarter timeout had ended rang through the arena without mercy. you swallowed in nervous anticipation, wiping your hands on your shorts to rid of any lingering moisture before the ref handed you the ball to throw it in. when the whistle blew, you only held it over your head for a second before you were hurling the ball toward sarah near the baseline. she caught it with ease and turned to pass it out to someone at the wing to create a play, but was quickly locked up by two defenders who were doing everything in their power to both keep her from shooting it and passing it to someone who could. 

unfortunately one of them was able to get their hands on the ball to slap it away toward one of her teammates, sending you all toward their end of the court. the player who caught it drove it all the way down the court, though kk managed to stop her in her tracks when they got inside the three-point line. unwilling to try for a blocking foul, the player passed it over to one of her teammates who was standing in the corner for a three, but paige managed to steal the pass before it was completed. 

without a second thought, you were sprinting down the court and leaving the girl you were defending in the dust. as expected, you heard paige call your name once you were nearing the three-point line as she passed you the ball from the other side of the court to make the drive. you barely turned your head to catch it, able to touch it with just one hand to get control over it. you could feel your defender hot on your heels, so you mentally prepared yourself for the and one opportunity, trying not to let it show on your face too much. 

your foot began to leave the wood of the court like it always did, ball in hand, ready to make a layup, before you felt the force of your defender's body against you at an unexpected speed. you could barely register the new warmth against your side before you felt yourself falling. though, you weren’t going straight down like usual, instead, you felt yourself going sideways. when you finally hit the ground behind the hoop, your foot was unsteady beneath you, and you weren’t able to stabilize yourself long enough to keep your body from falling backwards. before you knew it, the loud sound of the back of your skull colliding with an empty metal chair was ringing through the arena. 

paige watched as you made impact with the chair, her shock freezing her in place at the free throw line as the entire arena suddenly became silent. maybe there were a few gasps, but otherwise, everyone had gone quiet in anticipation. your eyes closed just a moment after the contact, and your body fell limp onto the wood. she didn’t know how long it took for the swarm of people to encircle you in panic, because all she could do was stand with her eyes wide and her jaw clenched so hard, it was a wonder how she wasn’t breaking any teeth. 

there were people yelling from every direction, but the words were muffled by the loud rushing in her ears caused by the panic. it wasn’t that she didn’t want to move. oh god, she needed to make sure you were okay, but she felt frozen in time–like everyone else was moving forward without her. the sinking feeling that something was wrong was settling deep in her own stomach just as it did to yours this morning, though hers was probably one hundred times worse now that she had seen your anxiety manifest itself.

there were a million thoughts running through her mind about how she should’ve taken you seriously as she watched the trainers stabilize your cervical spine, then checked your airway and shone a flashlight into your eyes to check for a serious brain injury. the student trainers stood around them and you to keep everyone back, telling them to go back to their benches and not to crowd you, so when the ambulance arrived, there was plenty of room for them to work.

only about a minute passed before your eyes were slowly blinking open again, though, the trainers immediately asked you questions to gauge how serious this injury was. you glanced around a few times with just your eyes, clearly disoriented, and tried to blink hard to make sense of the situation. kk approached paige with determination not to show any of the emotions she was feeling, resting a hand on her arm to push her toward the team’s bench.

“it’ll be okay, p,” she said gently. mostly because she didn’t really know what to say that would be comforting, but also didn’t say much else because she didn’t know that it would be okay–she couldn’t promise that. and she knew empty promises were not helpful for paige in such a traumatizing situation like this one.

paige didn’t hear her, though, so she didn’t budge. well she did, but not really, not enough for her brain to register what the words meant. all she heard was that kk was speaking to her in an eerily calm tone for the situation. the blood rushing through her ears was too loud to even pretend she was understanding. her eyes were trained on you, watching as you stared at the trainer like they had three heads while they spoke to you.

“paige,” kk tried again, more stern this time. though, her voice was still subtly unstable, trying to mask it for the sake of the team, because being panicked wouldn’t help anyone right now. 

paige’s body felt like it was burning past 1000 degrees fahrenheit–like the sun was directly burning her skin with no ozone layer to protect it from the harsh rays. the sound of your bone making contact with the metal was on a torturously continuous loop in her mind. it made her stomach drop so far she wasn’t even sure it was in her body anymore, really. too busy trying to get away from the rising heat.

still, she followed the direction of the force being administered by kk’s hand, though she wasn’t even entirely sure her feet were actually moving. too stunned, too focused on what she had just witnessed, to even care about actually controlling her limbs.

she had arrived at their bench so quickly it felt like she had teleported, but she couldn’t even think about that either as her butt made contact with the white cushions. her eyes were staring at the floor, unfocused, so she didn’t know that they looked wild to anyone else witnessing this. the familiar sensation of drool was collecting in the back of her throat, spilling into her mouth, and coating her teeth to protect themselves.

“i’m gonna be sick,” she mumbled to no one in particular. her voice was so quiet it was honestly shocking that anyone even heard her, but she supposed that the silence from shock washing over the entire arena helped her there.