Paige Bueckers x Fem!Reader
Summary: Paige Bueckers has been your best friend for years always there, always close, always quietly watching you give yourself to a man who didn’t know what to do with a body like yours.
Genre: Smut, Best-Friends-to-Lovers, Sneaky Dominance
Warnings: SMUT. Fingering, oral (f receiving), toy use (vibrator), squirting, power dynamics, possessiveness, light choking/restraint, recorded consented sexual content, aftercare,
It’s 1:38 a.m. when you call her. You don’t even say hi.
“…he couldn’t even find it.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then Paige sighs. “I told you.”
You let the phone fall back against the pillow as you groan, frustration raw in your throat. “No, you don’t get to ‘I told you’ me right now, Paige. I let him try. I tried. And he still—God, he said, ‘is this it?’ Is this it, Paige.”
You hear a shuffle, like she’s already getting up. “I’m on my way.”
She’s in your bed twenty-five minutes later. Hoodie, sweats, lips pressed together like she’s doing everything in her power not to laugh in your face.
“You know I’m not gonna say I told you so, right?”
“You literally already did.”
“Okay, but I didn’t say it like this,” she teases, flopping down beside you. Her thigh brushes yours under the blanket. “I just… don’t understand how a man could be that proud and that uncoordinated at the same time. Like pick a struggle.”
You groan again, but this time she pulls you in close, arm around your shoulder, chin nudging your temple.
“I mean… we could always make him a video.”
“A tutorial,” Paige says casually, like she’s suggesting a YouTube skincare haul. “You lay back, I show him what you like, and then he doesn’t have to embarrass himself again. You win, he learns, everybody’s happy.”
You turn to stare at her. Her face is neutral. Too neutral.
“You’ve never touched me like that.”
She shrugs. “Don’t need to.”
Your mouth goes dry. “What do you mean?”
Her smirk creeps in, slow and dangerous. “You forget who taught you how to kiss? Who talked you through your first orgasm over FaceTime? Baby, I know you better than you know you.”
Your legs clench on instinct. Paige doesn’t miss it. She leans in, voice low.
“He was licking you like an ice cream cone, huh? That slow, nervous shit like he’s scared of it.”
You don’t answer. You don’t need to. She nods knowingly. “You like pressure. Tongue flat. You need rhythm, not flicks. And you hate when people ignore your clit to ‘explore.’ You want eye contact. Hair pulled. You want someone who’s not afraid to hold you open and make a mess.”
You swallow hard. “How the fuck do you know that?”
Paige just grins. “Because I know you.”
You hear from someone else first. Your boyfriend’s in the locker room talking big loud and confident, claiming he had you “screaming.” Word gets back to Paige in minutes.
She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t get loud. She just walks up to him after your game, chewing gum real slow. One hand in her pocket, chin tilted up.
“She told me what happened,” she says, eyes locked on him. “And whatever you think you did? You didn’t.”
He stammers. “You….you weren’t there.”
“I didn’t have to be,” she says, smirking. “She calls me after. Every time. Gives me play-by-plays. Like a coach.” His face goes pale.
“I could show you,” Paige offers, voice like syrup. “It’s easier than you think.”
She pats him on the chest, leans in, and whispers, “But you’ll never do it like me.”
You let him explain. You give him grace. You pretend like your best friend didn’t verbally gut him in public. But you’re lying in bed with your phone when Paige texts you:
He still doesn’t get it. I could teach him.
Or you could just let me show you.
It’s what you’ve always wanted, anyway.
You stare at the screen for a minute. Then you type.
Your apartment smells like vanilla. You’ve been pacing since she sent that text: “be there in 10.”
When you open the door, Paige is already smirking. Not the usual lazy, cocky thing she throws around when she’s being cute. This one’s different. Meaner. Hungrier. She’s in a black tee, hair in a bun, lips glossed. And when she steps in, she doesn’t hug you. Doesn’t say hi.
Just closes the door with her foot, eyes running over your body.
“So.” Her voice is low. Controlled. “You ready for your lesson?”
You scoff, turning to walk toward the couch, trying to play it off—trying.
“Thought it was a lesson for him.”
She follows close behind, and you feel her hands brush your waist as she leans in.
“Nah,” she whispers, her breath warm on your neck. “I lied.”
You freeze. Paige’s fingers slip under your shirt like she’s done it a thousand times. “This one’s for me.”
It doesn’t take long before you’re on your back, legs spread, shirt somewhere behind the couch. You expected teasing. A slow buildup. Maybe even some nerves.
But no. Paige is starving.
She kisses down your chest like she knows what she’s doing because she does. Licks that little spot under your left breast that always makes you gasp. She grins when you do, like she’s ticking boxes on a list she made years ago.
“You’re wet already,” she hums, dragging two fingers down the center of your panties. “You been thinking about this, huh?”
You don’t answer. She laughs, mean and quiet. “Yeah. Thought so.”
Then she’s pulling them off slow enough to watch your face, fast enough to make you squirm.
When she goes down, it’s with purpose. Paige spreads you open with both thumbs like she’s reading a map, tongue already pressed flat and heavy against your clit before you can even brace for it. No warmup. No warming you up. Just hot, slick, pressure. The kind your boyfriend never understood.
“Right here?” she murmurs, tongue circling slow, two fingers keeping you wide. “Yeah… you like that. I know.”
You whimper. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. Just shifts slightly and locks her arms under your thighs like she’s settling in.
Paige eats you like she’s proving a point groaning into it, tongue dragging, lips wet and greedy. When you try to close your legs, she pushes them back open, firm and calm.
“Nuh uh,” she says, voice muffled. “Let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”
She alternates between fast and slow, teasing and deep, like she’s learning and testing and knowing all at once. And you can’t even think straight. You’re gripping her hair. Breathing too fast. Already damn near there. Then she lifts her head.
“You wanna know what he was doing wrong?”
She slides two fingers in like it’s nothing. Like she knew you’d be dripping enough.
Her fingers curl just right, her palm hitting your clit with every thrust. She’s watching you now, eyes locked on your face, lip caught in her teeth like she’s studying for a final exam.
You cry out, arching up, chasing that pressure. She leans in close, licking her lips.
“You close already? Damn. Thought you were tougher than that.”
You slap her shoulder weakly. “Fuck you….”
“You’re trying baby.” She grins and twists her wrist. “But your pussy says different.”
You’re about to break literally shaking when she stops. You almost scream. Then she tilts her head.
She’s dead serious. “Just for me. Won’t show nobody. I just want to watch you fall apart on my fingers again.” You whimper, pulling her back down by the back of her neck.
“Girl, yeah, whatever just don’t stop.” Her smirk grows wide and feral.
She pulls her phone out with her clean hand, props it low beside your thigh, and goes back in like she’s got something to prove to the camera now too. Fingers deeper. Tongue back on your clit.
This time she moans into you low and guttural. You lose it. Your hips stutter, thighs clench around her head, and you’re crying out her name like it’s always been her. Because it has.
You ride it out on her mouth, fingers buried in her hair, body twitching. She doesn’t stop until you pull her away, gasping. Even then she licks her lips, leans back on her knees, and watches you try to breathe again.
“Lesson one…” she says, still panting slightly. “Let somebody who actually gives a fuck touch you.”
You blink up at her, dazed.
Your breathing’s just starting to even out when Paige stands. Pulls you gently by the wrist.
“C’mon,” she says, like this is part of the curriculum. Like this is normal. “We’re not done.”
You follow, legs unsteady, mind still gooey from the first round. She’s shirtless now, hair wild, and walking you across the room toward your vanity.
The second you realize what she’s doing, your stomach flips.
“Shh.” She stops you right in front of the mirror, hands skimming your waist from behind. “You look so fucking good like this.”
You do. Flushed skin, kiss-bruised lips, thighs still trembling. You look wrecked. Paige stands behind you, taller, toned, lips glistening with your slick. Her eyes meet yours in the reflection—hungry.
“Bend over.” You hesitate. Only a second.
She grips your hips and bends you herself, slowly. Hands splayed against the edge of the vanity now, your ass pressed back into her.
“You ever even look at yourself when he touched you?”
You shake your head. She smirks. “Didn’t think so.”
Then her arms slide around your neck. Her chest flush to your back. One arm anchors you across your collarbone, the other slips straight between your thighs.
“You’re gonna watch me make you cum,” she says, low and serious, like it’s the only thing that’s ever mattered. “Eyes open, baby.”
Two fingers slide in without resistance. You gasp.
She’s deeper than before. Angled perfectly. Her pace is slow at first, deliberate, and you feel every stroke like she’s dragging your soul out one inch at a time.
“Goddamn,” she murmurs into your ear, watching the way your mouth drops in the mirror. “You see how good you look? Look at how you open for me.”
The squelch of your pussy. The shine on her fingers. Your thighs tensing, face scrunched up as she fucks into you with that smug-ass expression, like she’s been waiting years for this moment and she has.
“You like that?” she whispers. “That pressure right here—” Curl. You cry out, hips jolting.
“Ohhh yeah. There she go.”
Her fingers are soaked now. She brings her thumb up to rub slow, tight circles on your clit while still fucking you deep. When you look away, overwhelmed.
“Uh uh.” She grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes up. “Keep watching. Watch what I do to you.”
She’s close now. Practically pressed against you. Her mouth brushes your ear with every breath.
“You think he could ever get you like this? Bent over, begging? Look at how needy you are, baby.”
You moan, body trembling. Your own reflection is ruining you Paige’s fingers moving like they’re guided by god, your face all fucked-out, her body wrapped around you like possession.
Then her pace shifts fast, steady, ruthless. You whine, trying to lift up from the vanity, but she holds you down with her forearm across your chest, lips grazing your jaw.
“Don’t run,” she growls. “This the part where you take it. And you do.
Legs shaking. Mouth open. Crying out her name. She doesn’t let up, doesn’t flinch, just keeps fucking into you like she already knows how many strokes it takes to break you.
You cum hard, body convulsing, knees buckling. She holds you through it, still pumping gently, still whispering in your ear.
“Good girl… There you go. Just like that. Look at you, baby.”
When your body finally gives out, she lifts you like nothing and sets you on the vanity stool. Crouches in front of you. Smiling.
You’re barely breathing when she lifts you onto the vanity stool. Thighs trembling, mouth slick with your own whimpers. She’s still crouched in front of you, chin glistening, fingers dripping, eyes dangerous.
“Too much?” she asks, smiling. You nod.
She tilts her head. “That’s cute. You think I care.”
Then she kisses you. Slow and deep like she’s trying to taste your orgasm still lingering on her lips. Her hands slide up your thighs, and you think she’s just holding you close.
You’re wrong. Because suddenly those fingers slip right back in. Two, maybe three. No warm-up this time. Just a slick, greedy slide that makes your hips jerk and your lips fall open mid-kiss.
Her grin widens. She kisses the corner of your mouth, then down your jaw. She’s still on her knees, looking up at you with that cocky, knowing expression.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” she whispers. “Every time you came crying about how he didn’t know what he was doing… I’d go home and cum to the thought of this.”
You can barely hold eye contact, your hands gripping her shoulders like lifelines.
“Look at you,” she coos. “Still trying to act like you’re not mine now.”
Then your phone starts buzzing on the vanity. It’s him. You don’t even move, but Paige does. Calm as ever. Fingers still pumping slow and deep, she leans up and answers.
Your eyes go wide. “Paige—”
She presses her palm to your clit, quieting you instantly with a firm stroke.
“Yeah,” she says into the phone, tone friendly. “She’s a little busy right now.” A pause. You can hear his voice confused, unsure. Asking what’s going on.
Paige looks you dead in the eye and curls her fingers hard. Your head snaps back, mouth open in a silent scream.
She covers the mic and mouths, “Don’t hold back.”
Then back into the phone, “Oh, that noise? That’s her.”
She flicks your clit again, harder this time, until your hips buck. “Yeah,” she breathes, grinning. “I’m showing her how to cum for real. Something you clearly never learned.”
You can hear him trying to talk over her, voice panicked and rising, but Paige is already back on you her tongue on your neck, her hand fucking up into you harder now, faster, trying to rip the sound out of you.
“You wanna say hi?” she teases, moving the phone toward your mouth. “C’mon. Tell him who’s got you like this.”
You moan—high, wrecked, involuntary. She laughs, actually laughs, and talks right over you.
“She’ll call you back when she’s done dripping all over my fucking hand.”
She ends the call. And doubles down. Literally.
Her pace turns filthy, fast, wet, relentless. Her palm slaps against you with every thrust, and her mouth is back on yours, stealing breath and sanity.
You scream into her kiss, clutching her hoodie, cumming harder than before. Paige just keeps going until your thighs are shaking around her wrist.
When you finally collapse into her chest, panting, she strokes your sides like she just gave you a massage.
“Lesson three,” she whispers. “Delete his fucking number.” You nod, boneless. Breathless. Ruined. She grins, kisses your cheek, and says “Now turn around. I’m not done grading you.”
Your body is limp when she finally pulls her fingers out, glistening and smug like she just conquered something and she did.
You’re draped across her, shaking, gasping into her neck, and still… still needing more.
“Paige…” Your voice is barely there. “Please…”
She doesn’t speak right away just runs her hand down your side, trailing between your legs like she’s memorizing every tremble.
Then, gently, she cups your face and makes you look at her.
“You want more?” You nod quickly, almost frantically. She leans in, lips brushing yours like a secret.
“Then you’re gonna let me show you everything.”
You’re not sure when or how you got to the bed. All you know is her voice and her hands guided you. Now you’re spread out again, thighs aching, breath shaky, as she kneels between your legs like she belongs there.
Paige looks too calm like she’s in her element, dark eyes flicking from your face to the drawer next to the bed.
“You still got that purple one?” she asks. You blink.
“Your vibe,” she clarifies, smirking. “You think I didn’t know? Girl, your man couldn’t make you cum. Of course you got backup.”
Heat flares in your chest, between your legs. You nod, wordless.
She reaches over, opens the drawer without asking, and pulls it out like she’s done it before. Her brows lift slightly. “This the one?”
You cover your face for a second, flustered, but nod again. She grins, climbs back between your thighs, and kisses the inside of your knee before switching the toy on. A soft hum. Then louder.
“Sit up,” she says. “I want you to watch.”
You prop up on your elbows just as she presses the vibrator to your clit. Your head drops back with a gasp.
“Nuh uh,” Paige says, not even looking up. “Eyes on me. Watch what I do to you.”
The first pass is light just enough to tease, to make your thighs twitch. But when she adds pressure.
“Fuck,” you breathe, one leg kicking slightly. You reach down and grab behind your own thigh, holding it open.
Her eyes stay glued to your pussy the whole time—studying it. Worshipping it. She alternates pressure and rhythm like she’s done this before, like she’s studied you before. And every time your hips jerk or your thighs twitch, she notices.
“Oh, you like that speed?” You nod quickly.
“And this angle, huh?” You moan.
She licks her lips. “Let’s try something.”
And then she leans down. Flicks her tongue around the toy, just teasing the slick edges of your clit while the vibe presses steady into the center.
You nearly scream. Your leg shakes so hard you drop it. She grabs it and throws it over her shoulder with ease.
“Keep still,” she says, licking her lips again.
She eats your pussy around the vibrator. Her mouth catching the mess it makes. Her tongue flat. Her moans soft and greedy like she loves this.
You can’t breathe. Your eyes roll back. You claw the sheets.
“I know,” she purrs, pulling back just long enough to look you in the eye. “Let it happen.”
She pushes the toy slightly lower while her tongue flicks your clit. You break.
Your hips lift. Your moan turns high and choked. Your whole body snaps forward like it’s too much too much pressure, too much sensation, too much her.
And then You squirt. A lot. It hits her hand, her arm, the sheets. She doesn’t care. Just watches it happen like she’s proud of you. Mesmerized. Smiling.
“There she go,” she murmurs, rubbing slow circles again while your thighs twitch. “Been waiting to see that.”
You’re shaking. Crying maybe. Still gasping for air. But she’s not done. She leans back in mouth on your soaked clit, tongue lapping slow and deep and loving every drop.
She finally lets go of the toy, tosses it to the side like it served its purpose. Now it’s just her mouth. She groans into you, eyes fluttering closed, mouth full of you messy and loud and nasty.
You don’t even know if you cum in her mouth or just keep riding the edge, but it doesn’t matter. She’s not coming up for air. She’s been waiting for this. She’s going to take her time.
You’re still trembling when she finally pulls away. Mouth wet. Fingers drenched. Eyes glowing like she just won a championship.
She presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another to your hipbone before crawling up your body, light on her feet, her hoodie half-off and damp at the hem from you.
You feel her hand press gently to your cheek.
You nod, barely. She chuckles, like you just passed some impossible test. “Good girl.”
Then effortlessly, she lifts you. Carries you to the pillows and lays you on your side like you’re made of glass.
She disappears briefly, and you hear the sink running. A few seconds later, a warm towel presses between your legs, slow and careful, like she knows you’re sensitive now. She cleans you without saying a word no teasing, no smirks just small circles, gentle hands, reverent touch.
When she’s done, she grabs your water bottle off the nightstand and taps it against your lips.
“Drink,” she murmurs, arm sliding under your shoulders to lift you. “You gon’ need it.”
You sip slow, and when she’s satisfied, she eases you down again—this time against her. Hoodie still on. Legs tangled with yours. Your head resting on her chest.
The silence settles in warm.
Her fingers trace slow lines on your back, and her breathing’s steady almost like she didn’t just put you through five orgasms and a clean-up that looked like a post-game locker room mop-up.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Her phone lights up on the nightstand. You both glance at it. It’s him. Name lit up bold. Notifications stacked like a man who knows something is wrong but doesn’t know what.
She reaches for the phone, unlocks it with her thumb, and stares for a second, then hits the little microphone icon and starts a voice note.
“Yo,” she says, calm as ever, voice low and a little raspy from moaning your name all night. “My bad. She’s… out.”
She pans the phone over your sleeping form, gets just enough of your bare shoulder and the edge of her hoodie wrapped around you. Then taps send.
Sets the phone back down. Pulls you in tighter.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers against your hair. “He won’t call again.” You hum, half-asleep already.
She smiles. In the dark, with you curled into her chest, wrecked and warm, she kisses your forehead and says “Told you I’d teach you.”
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