Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! Abusive husband, cigarette smoking, alcohol use, attempted sex trafficking/prostitution, references to past rape, FFF threesome, clit rubbing (r! receiving), strangulation, oral sex (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), ice play, strap on usage (r! receiving), allusions to torture, death, happy ending!!
Notes: This is a dark fic with dark content. There is violence, smut, and references to past sexual abuse throughout. Read at your own discretion.
The bathroom mirror was still foggy from your bath, but you could see enough to fix your hair and makeup. Tony only let you wear cosmetics when he needed something from you, you mused sadly as you traced black liner along your upper lash line with a practiced hand. You hoped tonight wouldn’t be like the past. He’d promised it wouldn’t be. Blinking a few times, you inspected your work; it was passable. Your dress, the little black thing he always told you to wear, clung to your hips and breasts, intentionally a size too small.
Your husband leant against the doorframe behind you, watching silently as you worked. He always did.
“Will you tell me where we’re going?” you asked softly, keeping your eyes on the mirror.
His reflection smirked faintly, but his eyes were sharp. “Out,” he said flatly, smoking his cigarette.
“Out where?” you pressed, looking at him through the mirror. Your voice was small, afraid. “I just…I’d like to know.”
“Does it matter?” he snapped suddenly, straightening. His smirk had hardened into something cruel, and his voice dropped into that familiar tone of condescension that made your stomach twist. “What, you need a fuckin’ itinerary now? Jesus Christ. Just do as you’re told and get ready.”
You froze, and busied yourself with your lipstick to hide the stinging in your eyes. “Sorry, Tony,” you murmured.
“Yeah, you’re sorry,” he muttered, stepping closer now, resting his hands on the sink beside you, caging you between his arms. His breath was hot against your ear as he added, “Now hurry the hell up and stop asking stupid questions. You’re here to look pretty tonight. That’s it. I’ll do the talking. Don’t ruin it.”
He pulled back, leaving you standing there clutching your lipstick, your knuckles white, your heart hammering in your chest.
When you finally dared glance back at your reflection, you barely recognised the woman staring back at you.
But you still picked up your clutch. And you still followed him out the door.
You’d learned a long time ago what happened if you didn’t.
The speakeasy was louder than you expected, given the nature of its business. That just meant they weren't afraid of the cops showing up.
The heavy doors swung shut behind you, muffling the cool night air and swallowing you into a haze of smoke and low light. Lively jazz music filled the air, bodies moving on the dance floor in a swirl of silk, feathers, and diamonds.
You clutched your purse close, trying not to trip on the dark carpet as Tony made his way toward the back, his hand gripping your wrist as he pulled you along.
You’d never been here before, though you’d heard whispers about it: The Last Drop, a high-end speakeasy that everyone knew was just a front for something even worse.
But Tony was confident as he walked, like he owned the place.
Everywhere you looked, people were watching him. But not in a good way.
A man sitting at the bar sneered openly as you passed, muttering something you couldn’t catch. A pair of women in sequined dresses glared. Even the bartender, tall and broad-shouldered, with a polished glass in hand, shot your husband a look of pure disgust before serving another customer.
You didn’t know what you’d expected. But it wasn’t this.
When you reached a roped-off metal staircase near the back, a woman with a metal arm and a black shirt stepped in front of you. She wore no smile, just a faint, disdainful curl of her lip.
“Well, well,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “Finally come to settle up? The bosses had almost run out of patience.”
Your husband stiffened but didn’t answer, just straightened his jacket and muttered, “Just tell ‘em I'm here, Sev.”
The bouncer’s eyes flicked to you and something passed over her face. Not kindness, exactly. But maybe pity.
“Sure,” she said finally, and unhooked the rope. “Let's not keep them waiting.”
You glanced at your husband, but he didn’t even look at you as he followed ‘Sev’ up the staircase, shoulders tight, jaw set.
You followed, heart in your throat.
She led you along the carpeted upper walkway, into a quieter corner of the club. The music was audible just enough to create atmosphere. The air was cooler, sharper, like stepping into another world.
They were already there, waiting.
In a round padded booth sat two women. They were both stunningly beautiful, in different ways.
The tall woman on the right was striking, even in her stillness. She wore a crisp navy blazer over a matching waistcoat that accentuated her curves. Her long legs were crossed under the table, a hand clad in a cream leather glove held a crystal wine glass. An eyepatch covered her left eye, her remaining eye a beautiful ice-blue, watching you closely as you and your husband approached. Her expression didn’t change. She could have been carved from marble.
Beside her sprawled a woman with pink hair. She lounged with one arm along the back of the booth, legs spread wide in pinstripe trousers, the corner of her mouth curled into a sharp, cocky grin. Her crisp white shirt had the top buttons open, suspenders over her shoulders. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing her tattooed forearms. She drummed her fingers lazily on the table, sizing you both up like a cat watching canaries in a cage.
Your husband straightened his jacket again – he was nervous – shot you a quick look, and forced a smile as he stepped closer.
The pink-haired butch spoke first, her grin lazy and sharp at the edges. “Look who finally decided to show his sorry ass.”
“Evening, bosses,” he said, trying to sound smooth. “Good to see you again, Cait, Vi. Sorry we kept you waiting,” he said with a greasy laugh, practically shoving you into the booth. He sat down after you, his leg bouncing nervously under the table.
“It’s Caitlyn to you, Tony,” the blue-haired femme corrected coldly, swirling the wine in her glass. “We’re not exactly on good terms right now.”
He started a bumbling apology, but the pink-haired woman – Vi – interrupted him.
“Drink?” she drawled, already signalling to a waiting attendant. Two crystal tumblers were placed on the table only seconds later, filled with a deep amber liquor that burned just to look at. Not to mention the illegality of the drink.
Your husband gave a nervous little laugh, taking one eagerly.
“Thanks. See?” he said, tipping it toward them. “We’re all friends here.”
Vi grinned wide, showing teeth as she lit a cigarette. She held open her silver case to you. “Want one, baby?”
Tony tried to reach over to take one, when she snapped it closed near his fingers. He pulled his hand back, chastised.
“Was I talkin’ to you?” she snapped. “Men. No fuckin’ manners.” She looked back at you, softer. “You want one, sweetheart?”
You blushed, gently shaking your head. “No, thank you, ma’am.”
She closed the case more softly, placing it in front of you with the matching silver lighter. “S’there if you change your mind.”
Caitlyn’s gloved fingers just twirled the stem of her own glass. “Friends, Tony?” she said flatly, finally speaking. Her voice was low and cold, and it made the hairs on your arms stand up. “That’s one word for it. Do you treat all your friends this poorly?”
Your husband blinked. “I-I don’t know what you mean, Caitlyn.”
“Don’t insult me,” she cut him off sharply. “You’re here because you’ve been given too many chances already. You’re on your last leg, and you know it.”
“You know how business is, especially in this economy! But I-I got somethin’ to make it up to you! Make us square.”
Your heart sank. You knew where this was going. You’d been here before. Many times.
Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, clearly sceptical, but didn’t speak.
Vi tilted her head, studying him. “That so? Don’t tell us: you finally got the cash together.” She turned in the booth a little, now more open to the two of you.
“Not…Exactly,” he admitted, and you felt your stomach drop. You already knew that tone of his. The one he used when he was about to do something vile. He threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, grinning at the two women across from you. “I got you somethin’ better. Her.”
There it was. You froze. Your fingers curled in your lap as the words sank in.
Vi just snorted softly, shaking her head in disbelief. Caitlyn didn’t even blink.
He leant forward across the booth, his hand tight around your shoulder, his fingers already leaving marks, his voice low and desperate. “You can have her. Call it collateral. Until I get the money sorted, which I will! You can do whatever you want with her – put her in one of your bordellos, give her to your men, put her on a street corner – I don’t care. Just don’t…Don’t hurt me, alright? You know I’ll pay you back.”
And suddenly it all clicked. The way he’d been on edge all day. The way he’d said nothing when you’d asked why you were coming here. The way his hand had gripped your arm all the way up the stairs.
“You’re…Selling me?”
His jaw tightened, his fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve as he hissed under his breath. “I need the money. You don’t know what they’ll do to me if I don’t pay. This is just business, I'll get you back after. Don’t make a scene.”
You stared at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as his hand dug painfully into your arm. Your lips trembled as you spoke, broken, small, disbelieving.
“You promised I wouldn’t have to do this again, Tony.”
His head snapped toward you, his face twisting in a flash of anger. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he hissed.
But Vi’s grin dropped, and Caitlyn’s expression turned sharp as their eyes darted to you.
“Again, darling?” she asked, surprisingly soft.
Vi whistled low. “Oh, honey,” she said, her tone dripping with a strange, cruel tenderness as she leaned toward you. “You mean this ain’t the first time he’s sold you off to cover his sorry ass?”
Your husband swallowed hard, his hands tightening around his glass.
The silence that followed was deafening.
You sniffled. “How much does he owe?” you asked quietly, your fingers twisting in your lap.
Caitlyn looked at you closely. “Last tally was 5G’s.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Five…?”
“Afraid so, darling.”
Your hands trembled. You reached out for Vi’s cigarette case in front of you, trying to open it with shaking fingers.
She took pity on you. She took one out for you, placing it between your lips, opening her lighter. “Here, baby.” She held the flame up for you as you held the tip of the cigarette to the flame, inhaling unevenly.
Taking your first puff, your eyes filled. “$5,000, Tony?” you cried. “The house isn’t worth that! What have you been doing?”
“Drinking, gambling, whoring…” Vi explained before he could lie to you.
“You know those bordellos he’s so keen to send you to?” Caitlyn asked. “He was one of our regulars. Until he stopped paying the tab. After that, he went to the cards; he’s got the worst poker face in the world, but would never just cut his losses.”
You smoked again, trying to calm your nerves. A hand stroked the back of your neck tenderly.
Too tenderly for Tony.
Vi.
You sniffled again. “So…What happens now? Do I have to…?”
Caitlyn set her glass down and leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. Her lip curled faintly, and she finally spoke, her voice low and precise. “We don’t peddle flesh,” she said flatly, disdain lacing every word. “The girls who work for us choose to do so. And I don't get the impression that's the case here, darling.”
Your husband spoke up. “Look, I’m not sayin’ you gotta…Peddle her. Just take her. Have her. Use her. Whatever you want. You’re telling me she’s not worth-?”
Caitlyn interrupted, repeating coldly, “We don’t peddle flesh.” She gave your husband a withering stare, like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“What if I…” your throat clenched, and you had to wipe tears off your cheeks, “What if I went-?”
“Sweetheart,” Vi said softly, leaning into your ear, “Let us talk for a minute, okay? Have your drink,” she put the glass of whiskey in your hand, nudging it up to your mouth.
You drank obediently, just drinking and smoking silently, waiting for a verdict on your fate.
Tony watched your interaction, fury bubbling inside him at someone being gentle with you. “She can work, Caitlyn! Okay? Put her in one of those places, she’ll make you the money back in no time! She’s a good fuckin’ whore, okay?”
You wept at your husband’s words, your chin falling to your chest.
Vi’s hand, still on the back of your neck, kept rubbing tenderly. Wanting nothing more than to tear him limb from limb.
“As you know, our girls are $20 an hour,” Caitlyn said coldly. “We keep 7. Do you know how long it would take her to earn 5G for us, at $7 an hour?”
“Well, just keep all $20, she don’t need it!”
“So, your poor wife does 250 hours of work and gets nothing out of it?” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow sarcastically. “Not very gentlemanly of you, Tony.”
“Caitlyn, please-”
“We will take her off your hands, though.”
Your heart dropped, as his face lit up.
“Really?”
Caitlyn nodded, sipping her wine. “Yes. She’s not your problem anymore.”
He breathed a sigh of relief, slumping back down in the booth. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, Cait-”
Vi smirked at your husband. “We didn’t say this clears your tab.”
Your husband’s face fell. “Wha...? Vi, c’mon, I-”
“Your debt stays,” she cut him off, voice hard. “But hey. Look on the bright side,” her smirk widened, taking the cigarette out of your hand gently, inhaling deeply, blowing a lazy stream of smoke in his direction, “At least you won’t have to worry about her anymore. Now you can focus on how to get us our money.” She gave you back the cigarette, her fingers lingering against yours.
The booth went quiet after Vi’s words.
Tony froze, blinking between the two of them. “Wait...” he stammered, “You’re…You’re takin’ her anyway? But I thought-”
Vi leaned back lazily, grinned at him. She spoke, her tone mocking. “You really thought handing your wife over was just gonna buy you out? That’s not how we do business.”
“Our debt is with you, Tony,” Caitlyn scolded. “Not this poor woman.”
Your husband’s face flushed, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “No,” he hissed, panic seeping into his voice. “No, you can’t just take her and still make me pay! That’s...That’s not...”
He started to stand, yanking at your arm, making you gasp in pain. “We’re leaving.”
But before you could even move, the bodyguard – Sev – broad-shouldered and silent, posted just beyond the curtain, stepped forward and planted a firm hand on your husband’s shoulder.
“Sit down,” she said evenly.
Your husband stumbled, his grip on you faltered as he dropped back onto the seat.
Vi’s arm was already sliding around your waist, lifting you over her lap and placing you between her and Caitlyn with an easy, possessive strength. “Come here, baby,” she purred near your ear, her breath warm against your neck.
Her fingers traced lazy circles high on your thigh, her other arm draped casually around your shoulders as she leaned in to murmur in your ear. “Pretty thing like you, stuck with a piece of shit like him? Don’t make much sense,” she purred. “So, tell me, sweetheart: what’s he done to you?”
You hesitated, lips parting as you glanced past her at your husband. His glare was sharp, venomous, but the pressure of Vi’s hand running up and down your thigh and Caitlyn’s calm presence behind you reminded you who was really in control.
Caitlyn’s icy voice followed, quiet and cutting. “Don’t look at him, darling,” she put a finger under your chin, turning your head. “Look at me.”
Your eyes snapped to hers. She tilted her head, blue eye glittering in the dim light. “Tell us,” she said. “Tell us how he’s treated you. Don’t hold back. We want the ugly details.”
You swallowed hard, but the words started spilling before you could stop them, their touch the softest you’d felt in years. “He…He hits me,” you said softly.
He stiffened, opening his mouth, but Sev squeezed even harder on his shoulder until it clicked, shutting him up with a pained grunt.
Vi made a low, unimpressed noise as she pressed her lips to your neck. “Figures,” she murmured darkly.
“Go on,” Caitlyn said coolly, her gloved fingertips tapping the table as she held your chin gently. “What else?”
You trembled slightly as Vi’s hand slowly slid over your dress, stroking your knee. “He calls me names,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Says I’m useless. Stupid. Every time he drinks, he takes it out on me. Broke my rib once.”
You felt Vi’s fingers flex at that, tightening possessively. She let out a sharp laugh that held no humour. “Broke your rib, huh? Real big man,” she sneered, looking over her shoulder to your husband. “What, didn’t like that she’s prettier than you? Didn’t like that she’s better?”
Your husband muttered something under his breath, but Sev silenced him with another squeeze to his shoulder. Something popped, and he stifled a cry.
Caitlyn’s expression barely changed, but her voice dropped another degree colder. “Anything else?” she asked.
You nodded faintly, tears pricking at your eyes now, unable to carry on.
“It’s alright,” she said softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. She fixed your husband with a gaze colder than ice. “We’re going to get back every last cent you owe us,” she said, her voice calm, clipped, and merciless.
Your husband swallowed hard, glancing at Caitlyn like a cornered rat. “But…She was all I had-”
Caitlyn cut him off with nothing more than a slight tilt of her head. “She was never yours to bargain with. And you’d do well to remember that.”
Vi’s laugh was low and wicked as she pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, her hand sliding higher up your thigh as you moaned at her attention. “Oh, she’s ours now, asshole,” she murmured against your ear. “And you’re still screwed.”
Caitlyn’s attention was fixed coldly on your husband. “Don’t insult us by pretending you’d ever pay your debt if we’d put her to work. We all know you’d disappear the second you walked out that door. When you'd sat down, I was going to offer you two days to come back with fifty percent.”
He swallowed thickly, Sev’s metal hand still squeezing his shoulder. “But now?”
She sipped her wine, letting silence fill the booth. “We really don’t appreciate how you’ve treated this sweet little thing,” her hand along the booth stroked the back of your hair, Vi still kissing your neck softly as you moaned weakly. “So now, you’re out of time, Tony. And we’ll have to get our money out of you a different way.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Vi murmured to you now, ignoring your husband completely. “We’ll take good care of you. Won’t we, Cait?”
Caitlyn finally turned her head just slightly, her icy blue gaze meeting yours. She gave you a single, deliberate once-over, then her lip curved into the smallest of smiles, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“Yes,” she said smoothly. “We will.”
Vi let out a low growl and kissed the side of your head. “Oh, baby,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “He had no idea what he had, did he?” Her hand slid even higher now, her fingers grazing over your inner thigh as she shifted your legs apart a little.
She glanced at Caitlyn, grinning wickedly. “What d’you think, Cupcake? She’s never been treated right, huh?”
Caitlyn’s lip curved faintly. Her eye met yours. “Have you ever been with a woman before?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with something sharper, more dangerous.
You shook your head, breath hitching as Vi’s thumb dragged slow, taunting circles under your dress. “N-no.”
“Have you ever thought about it?”
You swallowed. “Yes.”
“Can I kiss you, darling?”
You moaned softly, your eyes dropping down to her painted lips. “Yes.”
She smiled, like a fox who’d finally caught a rabbit. “Good girl,” she whispered, finally pressing her lips to yours.
You couldn’t control how loudly you moaned against her. It was wonderful. You could taste her expensive wine on her lips and tongue as she delicately teased your lips open. Someone slipped the cigarette out of your fingers, and your now free hand reached up and touched her cheek.
She smiled against you, holding your own cheek as she deepened the kiss.
Your husband’s breathing was ragged now, his fists clenched on his knees, but Sev’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder, keeping him pinned in his seat. His eyes darted between the two women and you, wide and full of impotent rage.
Vi nudged your thighs apart, her hand slowly creeping under your dress. “We’re gonna make you forget his name, sweetheart.”
Her fingertips touched your pussy through your panties.
You gasped into Caitlyn’s mouth, your eyes shooting open.
Her eye twinkled back at you. “Is that alright, darling? If Violet touches you?”
You whimpered, nodding desperately as Vi’s fingers gently circled your clit over the material.
“Relax for me, sweetheart,” Vi murmured against your neck, her voice low and husky, her breath hot where it ghosted over your skin. Her fingers circled you with care, coaxing little gasps from your lips. “That’s it. You’re okay. I got you.”
The tenderness in her touch almost broke you; it was more kindness than you’d been shown in years.
Vi circled the spot at the top of your pussy that made you see stars, her fingertips gently moving over you, eliciting soft and sweet moans from your lips. Your eyes drifted closed as your hips moved on her fingers.
And then Caitlyn leant in close, her gloved fingers curling under your chin to tilt your head toward her. She didn’t kiss you that time. Instead, she pressed her lips to your ear, whispering words soft enough that only you could hear them.
“You’re doing so well,” she murmured, her cool voice like silk. “You’re beautiful when you let go like this. Let her take care of you. We’ll take care of you now.”
Vi hummed her agreement, kissing along your shoulder, her fingers working you tenderly, as though she had all the time in the world. “That’s right, doll,” she growled softly. “You deserve this. Every bit of it. Let me hear you.”
You gasped again, trembling between them as Caitlyn’s words kept coming, a quiet counterpoint to the way Vi’s fingers worked you higher and higher.
And all your husband could do was sit there, silent, powerless, forced to watch as they claimed you right there between them.
It didn’t take long for you to writhe on Vi’s hand, your pussy clenching on nothing as a soft orgasm rolled through you. Your chest heaved as you panted, both women whispering praise in your ears as they held you through it.
“You liked that, baby?” Vi teased in your ear. “Came apart for me so fast. Did it feel good?”
“I…” you gasped when her fingers only slowed down a little, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
They both looked at you curiously.
Caitlyn asked for the both of them. “Have you not experienced that before, darling?”
You shook your head.
Vi’s eyes widened. “Never? Not once?”
You shook your head again. “No.”
The butch glared at your husband over her shoulder. “What the fuck have you been doing with her?” She looked back at you. “How long have you been married?”
“Eight years,” you answered, sipping the whiskey Caitlyn handed to you.
“So, in eight fuckin’ years, he’s never once made you fall apart like that?”
You frowned, feeling oddly ashamed. “Was he supposed to? Did I do it wrong?”
Vi groaned into your neck, pressing reassuring kisses to your skin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re perfect. It’s him that’s been doing it wrong.”
“Not that that will be a concern for much longer,” Caitlyn threatened. “Let’s head upstairs, darling.”
She elegantly slid out of the booth, holding out her hand for you. You took it, even as you looked back to see Sev pull your husband out the other end, dragging him to his feet as Vi went out that side. She grabbed his upper arm, twisting it behind him as she and Sev frog-marched him after you and Caitlyn.
The club’s music and chatter faded as Caitlyn wrapped an arm possessively around your waist, guiding you through a door at the end of the upper walkway, down a plain concrete corridor, and through another door at the end. Vi and Sev followed close behind, dragging your husband along between them even as he tried to resist.
You arrived in a softly-lit, richly decorated office. The scent of leather and expensive whiskey hung in the air. A wide, low, maroon leather sofa sat around a coffee table and expensive rug, matching armchairs accompanying it.
Caitlyn led you to a drinks cabinet against a wall, keeping you distracted whilst Vi and Sev secured your husband to a cheap metal chair opposite the sofa.
Caitlyn asked you gently what drink you’d prefer, letting you smell the aroma of a sweet smoky bourbon as the two women made quick work of tying Tony’s wrists and ankles to the chair, ignoring his sputtering protests. He strained against the ropes uselessly, frantically looking around the room for some sort of escape.
There would be none.
Vi gave their bodyguard a nod. “Thanks, ‘Vika.”
She nodded and left the room, standing guard outside.
You and Caitlyn sipped some of the bourbon together, before she stroked your cheek. “Darling, why don’t you go freshen up in the bathroom?”
Vi was behind you, her calloused palms sliding over your hips tenderly. “We just need a quick word with this sack o’ shit.”
You glanced at him nervously. “What are you going to do to him?”
“I think you should focus on what we’re going to do to you,” Caitlyn smirked charmingly, pecking your lips. “Go on.”
Vi nudged you towards a door, nodding encouragingly even when you hesitated to close it behind you.
The moment you did, their body language changed.
Caitlyn’s back straightened and her shoulders braced back, making herself even taller. Vi rolled her neck and shoulders back, clicking her knuckles. Turning on Tony, she approached him slowly.
He shook his head beseechingly. “Vi, Vi, we don’t…We don’t have to do this! I’ll get the money, I promise!”
She shook her head, coming down to his level. “This ain’t about the money anymore, and you know it.”
Caitlyn approached, unbuckling her belt from her trousers. “Besides, we already have ways to get our money back.”
“Look, I’ll-I’ll go away. I’ll get a fake name, and I’ll go far away. I won’t ever hurt no-one else, I promise!”
Caitlyn walked behind him and passed her belt around his neck, lifting him and the chair. Vi’s hands on his knees forced him back down, putting maximum pressure on his neck from the belt. He couldn’t even gasp, nor choke; not a single sound left his throat as his face turned red and he struggled.
After a few seconds, Caitlyn let go. He dropped back down in the chair, coughing and spluttering as he did, desperately dragging in air to his lungs.
They let him breathe a few times, before Caitlyn tightened the belt and lifted again. Vi forced the chair back down, choking him again. They said nothing as they strangled him, watching his face gradually turn pink, then red, then a shade of purple.
Just as his eyes started to roll back, they stopped. Vi slapped his face until he breathed again, patting his shoulder good-naturedly.
“There you go, buddy,” she said sarcastically. “Don’t pass out. We’re not finished here.”
Cait loosely wrapped the belt around his neck, not restricting his breathing, just leaving it there. For later.
You knocked on the bathroom door from the inside. “Caitlyn? Vi? Should I come out now?”
They smiled to each other, their mood lifted once more.
“Come on out, baby,” Vi called happily.
You came back into the room nervously. You hadn’t heard everything that happened, but you’d heard enough. You smoothed your hands down your dress, walking over to them timidly.
Caitlyn smiled at you genuinely, a gloved hand trailing slowly up your arm. “That dress doesn’t do you justice,” she murmured thoughtfully, her cool blue gaze raking over you.
Vi grinned, steering you toward the sofa. “C’mere, sweetheart,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “Let’s get you comfortable.”
You let them move you, half in a daze, half on fire already from what they’d done to you downstairs. Vi sat down first, sprawling back with that lazy, hungry grin, and pulled you onto her lap, her front to your back.
“You see this, big guy?” she called across the room to your husband, who was straining against the ropes. “This is what she deserves. Not your sorry excuse for a man’s hands on her.”
Caitlyn crossed the room slowly, her stiletto heels clicking on the floor, her eyes locked on you. She slid her jacket from her shoulders in one smooth motion, draping it over the armchair next to the sofa. She knelt elegantly in front of you both.
“You’re trembling,” she noted softly, her gloved fingers brushing your thighs. “Don’t be frightened. You’re safe here. You’re wanted. We only want what you want to offer. If you want us to stop, just say stop.”
Vi nudged your chin to look at her. “Do you understand, sweetheart?”
You nodded.
“Say it for us.”
You swallowed. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?” she pressed.
“I-I can say no. And you’ll stop.”
Vi smiled back at you. “Good girl.”
Caitlyn’s hands gently pushed your dress up, and then froze. “Darling…What’s this?” she asked, voice turning cold.
You looked down in alarm, then your heart started racing.
Her fingers stroked over the angry bruise on your inner thigh, her face set like stone. The round mark was several inches across, a horrible deep purple.
“Um…That’s…”
“Did he do that to you?” Vi asked gently, even as she had to force herself not to kill him there and then.
You bit your lip, and nodded.
“When?”
“A few nights ago.”
“Why?”
Your eyes filled with tears. “He wanted sex. I didn’t want.”
Their hands clenched on you. Caitlyn had to look away so you couldn’t see how murderous her eye became, and Vi buried her face in your hair, gritting her teeth.
“Are there more?” Caitlyn asked softly.
You nodded.
“Can you show us, baby? So we don’t hurt you?”
Caitlyn helped you stand and Vi unzipped the back of your dress. Before she’d even finished, she saw another one. On the left side of your back was another bruise, older than the first. As you shimmied your dress down, Caitlyn saw finger-marks on both breasts; someone had grabbed you, hard. Vi had to breathe deeply when she saw the belt marks across your buttocks.
“How many times, Tony?” she asked harshly, the backs of her fingers gently stroking over the clear lines.
“Vi…” he tried to begin.
“How many!” Vi erupted, immediately regretting it when you whimpered in fright. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” she quickly whispered in your ear, pressing apologetic kisses to your shoulder.
“Twenty,” you answered for him. “I asked him if he’d made this month’s mortgage payment.”
“Are you in pain, sweetheart?” Caitlyn asked, gently touching your chin. “I have medicine-”
You shook your head. “No, no, I’m alright. They’re healing.”
She gave you a hard look, sceptical.
“Really,” you asserted. “I’m alright, Caitlyn. I promise.”
“Do you still want this?” she asked, fully prepared to stop.
But you nodded your head. “Yes. Yes, I want this.”
She let herself smile back at you. “Sit back down with Vi.”
Vi sat on the couch again, gently pulling you into her lap, kissing your shoulder again.
Caitlyn knelt between Vi’s spread legs, touching your closed knees gently. “Has anyone ever kissed you down there, sweetheart?”
You flushed red. “N-No. Do people do that?”
They both chuckled.
“Oh yes, darling,” Caitlyn promised, stroking her hands up your thighs. “It will feel intense for you, for the first time, but it’ll be wonderful. Do you want to try it?”
You swallowed your nerves down and nodded.
Vi slipped her hands between your thighs. “Open wide for her, baby.” You blushed again but let the two of them spread your legs, Vi gently cupping your breasts as a reward, being careful of your bruises.
“You’re perfect, darling,” Caitlyn gushed, softly running her fingertips over your shaved skin. She leant down and slowly, gently, tenderly, pressed small kisses over your mound, just enough to let you get used to her touch.
You gasped every time she did so, your hips jolting a little against her. Vi kept her hands moving over you, never letting them settle. Stroking your hips, skimming your sides, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. She whispered praise in your ear, making you shiver every time.
Caitlyn gave your clit its first kiss. You sighed loudly, your head dropping back onto Vi’s shoulder. You whined on the second kiss, and you groaned on the third. When she gently sucked it into her mouth, your eyes shot open.
“Gods!” you cursed, clenching your hands at your sides, unsure what to do with them.
“Hold her hair,” Vi instructed, nudging your hands towards Caitlyn’s head. “Just don’t mess up her bun; you’ll never hear the end of it,” she teased.
You shakily lifted your hands and rested them on Caitlyn’s head, earning a pleased hum from her mouth, sending vibrations through you. She licked up and down your slit, gently exploring your lips, returning to your clit every few seconds, building you up.
Your breath quickly started to come in choppy pants, your chest heaving under Vi’s hands as the feeling from downstairs started building again.
“It’s…It’s happening again,” you moaned, your hips moving against Caitlyn’s head.
“You’re coming?” Vi asked gently.
“I-I think so?” you looked down at Caitlyn, your breath catching when your eyes met hers. Looking at her as she licked your centre sent you over the edge, and you moaned loudly. “I’m coming,” you gasped, your head dropping back as you moaned, your core leaking juices into Caitlyn’s eager mouth, making her moan against you again.
They held you as your hips rolled and bucked, eventually calming down and relaxing into Vi’s lap. She kissed your neck and shoulder throughout, murmuring praise and comfort in your ear. Caitlyn slowly moved her mouth off your centre, placing kisses around your hips and thighs.
“Was that alright, darling?” she asked softly.
You almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.
You were already breathless as you sat sideways on Vi’s lap, your head tipped back as her fingers worked you open, unrelenting. Caitlyn sat poised at your side, her gloved hand stroking along your thigh, whispering little praises to you as you shivered and whimpered for them.
Across the room, Tony strained against the ropes, his face dark with fury and humiliation. He finally snapped, his voice sharp, cracking through the heavy quiet.
“Stop! Just stop it!” he barked. “She’s faking it! No woman enjoys it that much! Nobody sounds like that unless they’re putting on a show.”
You froze, shame washing over you for just a second, but then Vi’s laugh cut through the air, low and dangerous, and Caitlyn’s cold, velvety chuckle followed right behind.
Vi nuzzled into your neck, her breath hot as her fingers kept moving, quick and steady, making you squirm despite yourself. “Oh, that’s rich,” she snorted, her grin pressed against your skin. “That’s what you tell yourself to sleep at night, huh? That it’s her fault you never made her feel like this?”
Caitlyn gave a soft, elegant laugh as she stood, removing her gloves. “How utterly pitiful,” she sneered coolly, her sharp eye cutting to him. “A man who doesn’t even know what it sounds like when a woman is truly enjoying herself.”
Without warning, she shoved her gloves into his mouth, moving her belt up to keep them there, looping it around and buckling it behind his head.
“Now, don’t disturb us again.”
Vi pressed a kiss just under your ear, chuckling darkly as you trembled for her. “Keep watching, pal,” she drawled, her fingers curling just right to draw another desperate sound from your lips. “She’s not faking now. This is real. This is what you wouldn’t give her.”
Your husband’s face was crimson with rage, but he couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but sit there and watch as they coaxed another gasp out of you, another shudder, another broken little moan that only made their mocking smiles sharper.
Vi’s laugh rumbled against your back as she shot him one last wicked grin.
“Guess you just weren’t man enough,” she said simply, before turning her attention back to you completely.
And you stopped caring what he thought entirely, because their hands and voices made you forget he even existed.
You trembled, body slack under Caitlyn as her fingers worked you, her calm precision in perfect counterpoint to Vi’s roughness. They’d kept you between them for what felt like hours already, coaxing every sound and shiver from you, filling the room with their low praise and wicked murmurs.
But this time, when Caitlyn’s fingers pressed deeper and your hips flinched back just slightly, she noticed. She always noticed.
Her voice was soft, though no less commanding. “Are you alright, darling? Are you getting sore?”
You swallowed and shook your head, though your voice betrayed you. “I can…I can take it,” you whispered, almost pleading, even as you winced from tenderness. “Please don’t stop…”
Vi laughed softly against your neck, her lips grazing your skin. “Oh, baby…You’re a fighter, huh? You’d let us wreck you completely before you said ‘enough,’ wouldn’t you?”
Your little whimper made Caitlyn’s lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.
Vi glanced up at her. “I’ve got an idea,” she murmured. Without another word, she stood, striding over to the drinks cabinet against the wall, and returned carrying the silver ice bucket in one hand.
The cubes inside clinked as she set it on the low table in front of the sofa. She grabbed a cube in her palm, already slick with meltwater.
“Do you trust us, sweetheart?” Vi asked.
You nodded desperately, ready to take whatever they wanted to give.
“Spread your legs wider for us.”
They coaxed your thighs further apart, Cait gently pinning a thigh between her and the back of the sofa, Vi holding your other back with her right hand.
Vi started first. Her chilled fingertips traced a melting cube over your inner thighs, then directly over your swollen, tender vulva. The shock of cold made you cry out and jerk, but their bodies kept you in place.
“Good girl,” Caitlyn whispered reverently against your ear, and then her long, elegant fingers dipped into the bucket too, plucking out another cube. “Does that feel better, baby?”
Between the two of them, they worked you over slowly and deliberately. The shocking chill of the ice sliding over your clit, tracing teasing circles, then gliding lower over your folds and up your slit, melting rivulets trickling down your skin. Every time you gasped and writhed, they soothed you with soft murmurs and firm hands holding you still.
“See how good this feels?” Vi purred, watching you melt under their touch as the ice melted on your heated skin. “Better already, huh?”
You whimpered as Caitlyn gently eased a single cube inside you, the cold making you shiver violently, and then Vi added another, then another. Carefully, slowly, Caitlyn slid a finger back inside you, moving it in circles to help the icy little shapes soothe your soreness from the inside.
“That’s it,” Caitlyn praised, her lips brushing over your temple. “We’ll take care of you. You just let us.”
Vi’s grin was sharp as she watched you arch and gasp, your body strung tight between them again even as the chill settled deep in your core.
“We’re gonna keep you feeling good all night long, sugar,” she murmured, kissing the side of your neck as Caitlyn’s fingers started to move again, now softer, deliberate, working with the cold inside you.
And as you moaned and writhed between them, you felt nothing of the pain anymore, only the wicked, endless pleasure of belonging to them.
After you’d come again on Caitlyn’s fingers, and then again on Vi’s, Caitlyn rose from the couch, easing your thigh back down from where she’d kept it pinned. Vi held your hair, turned your head towards her, and kissed you passionately, slipping her tongue against yours.
Caitlyn walked over to her desk, unlocked the top drawer, and reached inside. Coming back over to you, she knelt next to you, stroking your cheek when Vi released you.
“I’d like to ask you something, darling,” she said, her voice calm but quieter now. “And I want you to understand: the choice is entirely yours. Whatever you say, we will respect it.”
Your breath hitched as she held up a tangle of leather straps with a glass phallus attached.
But her expression wasn’t cruel. There was no mockery in her sharp blue eye as she held up the glass for you to examine.
“Would this be all right for you, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her tone deliberate but gentle, knowing how heavy the question would be to you. “If you’d rather not, if it brings you any pain, any memories you don’t want to relive – you can say no. And we’ll put it away. We can keep going without it, or we can stop here if you’ve had enough.”
You stared at it for a long moment, your stomach twisting, but not from fear. Not this time.
Vi leaned in, nuzzling into your neck as she murmured, “We ain’t him or any of the others, sweetheart. We’ll only use it to make you feel good. You deserve to know what it can feel like in the right hands. But only if you want to.”
Your lips parted, your voice quiet but clear when you finally whispered,
“Yes. Please.”
A slow, approving smile curved Caitlyn’s mouth as she straightened to her full height.
“Good girl,” she praised, fastening the straps over her tailored trousers.
Vi kissed your neck proudly, her grin hot against your cheek as she purred. “So proud of you, you're so brave.”
Caitlyn adjusted the straps at her hips with smooth, practiced movements, buckling the leather snugly before she sat back on the couch. She leaned against the cushions, her long legs parted slightly, the harness gleaming in the low light from the chandelier.
Her sharp gaze softened as it settled on you.
“Come here, darling,” she murmured, patting her thighs. “This way you can control it.”
Your fingers trembled faintly as Vi helped you shift. She planted a tender kiss against your cheek, her hands firm on your waist as she guided you forward onto Caitlyn’s lap.
Caitlyn nodded faintly, her hand resting lightly on your knee as you moved closer. “You’re in control now,” she added quietly, her tone measured but kind.
You swallowed hard as you climbed onto her lap, straddling her thighs, your knees sinking into the leather cushions on either side of her hips. The strap was cool and smooth against the inside of your thigh as you settled yourself, your hands instinctively clutching her shoulders for balance.
She didn’t grab at you, didn’t rush you; she simply let you breathe, her hands sliding up your sides, her thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles over your ribs.
“Take your time,” she murmured, her voice steady, her eyes locked on yours. “You decide how this goes; you can stop whenever you want.”
That little bit of courage lit in your chest then, and you nodded faintly, drawing a proud little smile from Caitlyn. Her hands held you steady as you shifted your hips, feeling the tip press and slide against you, waiting until you were ready.
“That’s it,” Caitlyn whispered, her tone low and velvety, her eye never leaving yours. “You’re perfect, darling. Take what you need. Take all you deserve.”
You sank down slowly, gasping as the toy stretched you. But not cruelly, not painfully. Not like the past. Caitlyn’s hands stayed steady at your hips, letting you set the pace entirely, while Vi kissed and whispered praise at your back, her fingers brushing through your hair.
And across the room, the man who’d hurt you, belittled you, sold you, was forced to watch as they remade you into something cherished.
“Good girl,” Caitlyn praised softly when your hips finally met hers, her voice kind and proud as you moaned and whined. “That’s it. You’re doing so well for us.”
Vi’s grin pressed against your neck, her teeth grazing lightly as she added, “Bet he never made you sound this pretty, huh?”
You let out a breathless little laugh through your tears, and for the first time in years, you felt whole.
Caitlyn touched your cheek, gently wiping away tears with her thumb. “Are you alright, darling? Too much?”
You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt,” you breathed in relief, a happy smile creeping onto your face.
They both softened against you.
“It never should have.”
You moved in Caitlyn’s lap, slowly at first, testing your own pace, your own depth. Each time you sank down on her, their hands steadied you with that calm, unshakable control they both carried in everything they did. Caitlyn’s eye never left yours, and every time you gasped or whimpered softly, her lips would curve in the faintest smile, her voice low and soothing.
“That’s it, darling. Look at you, so brave. You're completely perfect, every inch of you.”
Vi was behind you the whole time, her chest warm against your back as she pressed kisses to your shoulders, your neck, your jawline. Her hands roamed lazily, one on your stomach, one brushing up to your breast, and she kept whispering in your ear between kisses.
“You feel that? That’s what you were made for, baby girl, bein’ worshiped like this. You’re gorgeous.”
You lost track of time in their praise, in the way Caitlyn’s fingers flexed against your hips every time you took her deeper, in the way Vi’s teeth grazed your ear when you whimpered her name.
But after a while, your thighs began to shake, your movements faltering as your strength gave out. You tried to keep going, biting your lip, but Caitlyn’s hands stilled you with gentle firmness.
“Shh, darling,” she whispered, her thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin as she leant in, kissing you softly. “No need to tire yourself out. You’ve done beautifully.”
They both eased you back onto your back, the strap never leaving you, their strong hands supporting you as they shifted you down onto the cool couch cushions. You lay back, flushed and trembling, as Caitlyn adjusted herself above you.
Vi crouched at your side, her hand stroking your hair back, murmuring sweet nothings.
Caitlyn hovered over you now, your knees bracketing her hips, her body stretching over yours. The sight of her above you – collected, powerful, and yet so tender – sent another shiver down your spine.
She cupped your cheek in one hand, her thumb brushing away the dampness there.
“We’ll take care of you now,” she promised softly. “Just lie back and let us show you how it should have been all along.”
Vi’s hand squeezed yours, her grin warm and full of pride as Caitlyn pressed her hips forward, gently filling you again, slow and deliberate.
“That’s it, sugar,” Vi murmured, her lips at your temple as you moaned softly. “Let her take care of you. You’re safe.”
Caitlyn’s hips rolled smoothly, her eyes locked on yours as she whispered every word like a vow. “No more pain. No more fear. Only pleasure. Only us.”
And between the two of them – Vi’s mouth at your ear and neck, Caitlyn’s hand holding yours – you truly believed it.
Caitlyn moved above you now, her body poised and commanding yet so unbearably gentle as she worked you with long, deliberate strokes. Her breath was even, her expression serene but darkened with quiet hunger as she watched you writhe beneath her.
Vi’s fingers threaded through your hair, her other hand stroking your cheek, murmuring praise against your temple. “Look at you, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re perfect like this. Ours. All ours.”
But then something shifted in you – a flicker of defiance sparking deep in your chest. You swallowed, your breaths shallow and shaky, and then you turned your head.
And looked right at him.
Across the room, still tied to the chair, your husband froze when your eyes found his. His face was twisted with rage, shame, disbelief – but he couldn’t look away.
You held his gaze as Caitlyn’s hips rolled into you, steady and relentless, drawing sounds from your lips you’d never known you could make.
Vi noticed first, grinning when she saw where your attention had gone. “That’s it, baby girl,” she whispered, her voice hot against your ear. “You make him watch. Make him see what it looks like when someone actually gives a damn about you. Let him see what he threw away.”
Caitlyn’s sharp blue eye flicked briefly toward him as well, then back down to you with a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. “Good girl,” she murmured approvingly, her pace quickening, her hands firm on your hips. “Let him see you come apart for me.”
Your fingers dug into the cushions, your gaze locked with his even as your body trembled, your lips parting in a soft, broken moan when Caitlyn drove you higher and higher. You refused to look away.
You wanted him to see.
He’d watched men fuck you before, with tears in your eyes then, but they were always tears of pain and shame. You wanted him to see the tears in your eyes now; tears of release this time, of pleasure so overwhelming it made you sob.
Caitlyn’s voice was low and velvety, coaxing you through it. “That’s it, just like that, darling. Show him what it looks like when someone actually knows how to touch you.”
And when it finally crested – when the wave broke and your back arched beneath her, your body clenching around her with a ragged cry – you kept your eyes on his. You watched his face as you came for her, as Caitlyn groaned softly above you and let herself follow you over the edge, her hands tightening on your hips.
You collapsed back against the cushions, chest heaving, still staring at him as his head finally dropped, his fury and shame no longer enough to meet your gaze.
Vi chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to your damp cheek. “That’s our girl,” she purred smugly. “Took his power right outta his hands and never even broke a sweat.”
Caitlyn stayed above you, brushing her lips to your ear as she whispered, “That’s the last thing he’ll ever see you do. And it’s all the proof he needs that you were never his to ruin.”
And you believed her. Completely.
The office windows glowed, pale orange light seeping in from the waking city outside. The sun was rising.
You lay curled on Vi’s lap, Caitlyn’s jacket draped over you, dazed and boneless as your head rested against her neck. Caitlyn sat on one side, cool and pristine despite the long night, her hand stroking gently over your hair. Vi’s free hand stroked your shin, squeezing gently, her head resting on yours as she breathed slow and steady.
Across the room, Tony was still tied to the chair, slack-jawed, silent now, his face ashen and his shirt clinging to him with sweat.
It was quiet now. Still.
Vi shifted slightly beneath you and glanced at Caitlyn. “You want me to…?” she muttered, tilting her chin toward your husband’s slumped, glaring form still tied to the chair.
Caitlyn shook her head with a faint smile. “No. You take her home. She’s not to see any more of this.”
She pressed another kiss to your temple before standing up. “Sevika,” she called, her voice cool and commanding.
The heavy metal door opened, and Sevika stepped inside, a hulking presence in her dark suit. She cast one look at you in Vi’s arms, then her eyes cut to the chair. The faint curl of her lip said she’d been expecting this.
“You rang?” she drawled.
Caitlyn gestured idly toward the man. “Start laying down the tarps,” she instructed, rolling up her shirt sleeves.
“On it.” Sevika strode into the room. Opening a cabinet, she pulled out several folded plastic sheets, spreading them smoothly across the hardwood floor, her boots echoing softly as she worked.
Vi shifted you a little, easing your limbs back into the soft slip dress they’d removed earlier, tugging the straps over your shoulders with care. “C’mon, sweetheart,” she murmured as you blinked groggily, “let’s get you home. You’ve done more than enough tonight.”
Her arms slid under your knees and your back, scooping you up with effortless strength. You curled into her chest, your cheek pressed against the crook of her neck.
You barely registered Sevika speaking low into the phone on the desk behind you as Vi carried you toward the door.
“…Same rates for all the parts?” Sevika asked. “Delivery in a few hours. Nah, don’t worry. Package’ll still be breathing when you get it. …Yeah. Yeah, doc. See you soon.”
Vi just smirked darkly at Caitlyn over her shoulder as she left to take you home. Not to the place you'd lived in before. Your new home. With them.
Caitlyn was already at her desk, laying out a neat row of gleaming tools that caught the dim light: pliers, knives, pincers, hammers…
Picking up the pliers, she made her way over to Tony as he started begging behind the gag, shaking his head as he cried.
“Save your tears, Tony; we've got a long way to go before your horrid life is at an end. You’re not worth the bullet it would take to kill you or the cement to weigh you down in the river,” Caitlyn murmured, her tone flat and clinical. “But you won't go to waste. There are parts of you that still have value...Heart, lungs, kidneys, liver.”
Tony's eyes widened and he started bawling.
“That's the doc’s job, though. We've got hours yet,” she clicked the pliers menacingly.
“No one hurts what’s ours.”
The sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, warm and golden on your bare skin. You blinked slowly as you woke, still drowsy, still cocooned in silken sheets that always smelled faintly of Caitlyn’s expensive perfume and Vi’s cigarette smoke.
The bed was enormous, soft enough to swallow you whole, as you lay on your stomach, one of Vi’s arms draped over your waist, possessive even sleep. Caitlyn was already awake, of course – she sat in a chair by the window, long legs crossed, a book resting in her lap.
She looked up when you stirred, and a small smile curled her lips. “Good morning, darling,” she said softly, her voice like velvet in the quiet of the room.
You couldn’t help but smile back, even though your throat felt tight. You still weren’t used to this: waking up warm and safe, instead of cold and afraid. Waking up without bruises. Waking up without him.
You didn’t know what they did to him. Only that they got their money back.
Vi shifted behind you with a sleepy groan, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Mmm. She’s up,” she muttered, her voice rough and low. “’Bout time. Was starting to miss that pretty smile.”
You laughed faintly, ducking your head as your cheeks heated. Vi’s arm tightened around you, pulling you back against her chest, and Caitlyn set her book aside to stand and join you both on the bed.
“Still tired?” Caitlyn asked gently as she sat on the edge of the mattress, her cool fingers brushing a lock of hair from your cheek.
“Just…Thinking,” you admitted quietly.
Vi grunted, shifting up to rest her chin on your shoulder, her hand splaying low on your stomach. “Uh-oh,” she teased lightly. “Don’t do that. You’re not allowed to think too hard about anything anymore. You’re a kept woman, remember?”
Caitlyn smirked faintly, though her sharp eye softened as she looked at you. “She’s right,” Caitlyn said simply, her fingers traced down your jaw. “You don’t need to think about him. Or any of it. That life is over, darling. You’re ours now.”
The past few months had been a blur of silk and leather, of whispered promises and passionate kisses, of expensive clothes and quiet nights in their arms.
You only knew you didn't wake up afraid anymore. And you never would again.
Synopsis - Smoke is obsessed with his woman. That’s it. That’s all.
Warnings - SMUT, switch Smoke, switch OC, cursing, little bit of angst, healthy obsession.
One shot (maybe)
MINORS DNI
-
They would say that Smoke wasn’t a nice man. He spoke too little, sometimes not at all. And that he never smiled.
The ladies in Miami fawned over him and his brother but Stack payed them no mind and Smoke didn’t even know they existed.
Truth be told, Smoke had forgetting that other woman walked this earth a long time ago when he first met Olivia.
His little Olive.
They met back when he was living in New York. There was a coffee shop right at the corner of his street. One morning he decided to step in, the previous nights events had kept him up and he was feeling sluggish.
“Good Morning sir, how are you on this lovely morning?” She was beautiful and for the first time in a long time, Smoke felt stuck. She had a pixie cut at the time, perfect cinnamon brown swirls surrounded her head. She had on a pink sundress, hugging her body in all the right places. She had a tummy and thick thighs that damn near had Smoke salivating. Her voice was soft and deep, almost sultry without even trying. She smelled of peaches and fresh flowers. It was intoxicating.
“Sir?”
“Yeah. Just plain black coffee, please.”
“No problem.” She smiled at him and he almost forgot how to breathe. His eyes followed her as she prepared his order. Her body moving swiftly and comfortable throughout the little cafe.
She handed him his coffee and a croissant. “I ain’t order this.”
“I know but it’s on the house. You look like you’re a busy man, you can’t go on being busy on an empty stomach.” Her giggle tickled his ears as she rang him up for the coffee. He payed with a $20 bill and told her to keep the change despite her protest.
The next day he was back. Once she spotted him, she flashed him that smile that he couldn’t stop thinking about. “Good Morning sir, are we doing plain black coffee again today?” He nodded, afraid that if he tried to speak he’d stutter or worse, no words would come out.
She gave him his coffee and the croissant.
“Bye bye, busy man.” That’s what she started calling him since he was always in a suit, even on the weekends.
The routine continued and sometimes she’d switch the croissant to something else, like a banana or a danish.
“You give everybody else these pastries? Or I’m just one of the lucky ones?” Olivia blushed, avoiding his piercing stare.
“No sir, just the ones who look like they too caught up with everything else, but themselves.” She slightly gasped. “I mean, no disrespect. I’m sure you take great care of yourself, I just- I don’t know.”
Smoke smirked slightly, finding her flushed face and behavior so endearing. “It’s alright honey. Thank you. Preciate you.” He tipped his head slightly before walking out and Olivia couldn’t help but watch the muscles on his back move underneath the semi tight suit jacket.
He was attractive and she might’ve had a little crush on him. She looked forward to seeing him every morning, not having any idea that he was feeling the same.
Olivia would spend extra time getting ready. Triple checking that her hair was perfect, that she wore that perfume that kept him lingering, that her skin was glowy and moisturized and that she wore pink. He always stared a little harder when she wore pink. Lucky for her, that was her favorite color.
One morning he didn’t show up. Something deep within Olivia stirred.
Worry.
She was worried about a man whose name she didn’t even know. The next morning she was met with more worry, and it stayed with her until the following week. Then, on a random Wednesday at 8 in the morning, he showed up. Slightly bruised upper lip, scar on his cheek and body stiff. Stiffer than it usually is.
“G-good morning sir. Black coffee?” She was trying hard not to ogle at the man, not to ask question, but something was pulling her to him. To hold him and nurse him back to health.
“Yes, please” She nodded and turned her back to him to work on his order. “You ain’t smile today… Something wrong?” Olivia turned around to face him, big brown eyes looking at him. Her cheeks burned from the way he looked at her, like he was actually hurt that she didn’t smile at him.
“I- no, nothings wrong.” Her lips pull up slightly. His eyebrows furrow as he steps closer to the counter, close enough to smell the familiar notes of peaches and flowers and the cocoa butter seeped into her skin. “What is it?”
Olivia played with her fingers, trying her hardest to avoid eye contact. “It’s…stupid. I just- I don’t know. You just hadn’t shown up in a week and I guess … I got worried? It’s so silly… I don’t even know your name.” She speaks in a hushed tone, embarrassed that she even admitted that.
Smoke gently places two of his fingers under her chin, lifting her head so that he could see her. Really see her.
In the few weeks that he had been going to the little coffee shop, Smoke never really payed attention to anyone or anything else in there. The cafe was usually empty, the TV in the back played reruns of ‘The Office’, the coffee machine hummed loudly as it brewed another batch, the lights were soft and comforting and the air smelled of pastries. And yet, Olivia was the only thing Smoke could focus on. She always was. Truth be told, if you’d ask him what color was the building, he wouldn’t have an answer for you. But he could probably tell you that Olivia has a habit of biting the corner of her lip when she’s focusing on something. Or how sometimes she’ll pull her lips into her mouth and a dimple would appear on her left cheek.
“I’m sorry. I ain’t mean to worry you.” Olivias breath hitched not just from the contact but from how low his voice got, like he ain’t use to saying sorry.
“Oh no, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just being silly. You don’t owe me anything.” She let out a nervous giggle but Smoke just shook his head.
“I worried your pretty little head and for that, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” Olivia was still floating from his words as he payed for the coffee and grabbed the donut she had taken out for him.
“It’s Elijah.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My name is Elijah.” Olivia smiled, slightly biting her lip.
“Elijah.” She tested it out and a shiver ran down Smokes back. He had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning. She just sounded so…sweet.
“Olivia.” Her voice was too low for him to hear and so with a slight scrunch of his face, he says. “Huh? Olive?”
The laugh that came out of the small woman was loud and straight from the gut. Smoke just watched her in awe. If it was anything he could choose to hear on repeat for the rest of his life, it would be that.
“No, busy man. I said Olivia, but I think Olive is cute too.” He chuckled lightly and nodded his head. Mind still swirling.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Olive.” With that he walked out and the next day brung in flowers, roses to be exact.
And after that, not a day went by where Smoke didn’t make sure that Olivia didn’t worry about him again.
-
Now six years later, the two were married and recently had moved to Miami into a nice big house that Smoke had gotten built for them. It was a four bedroom mansion with a pool and movie theater room. Smoke made sure to add extra closet space for Olivia, as well as a makeup room for to get ready in.
He was so protective of her, gave her anything and everything she wanted without her ever having to ask twice. She rarely ever had to ask once. Smoke just knew her well enough to know what she likes. He’d come home from his business trips with new designer bags, shoes, jewelry and sometimes just stacks of money. All for her. And he never asked for anything in return.
Her favorite gift of all, was him. She loved when he came back home to her. She never cared for the materialistic things, she just wanted to be wrapped around her man.
And god what a man he was. 6 feet of pure muscles and chocolate skin. Thick and strong in all the right places. Deep baritone voice that could make you melt or better yet, kneel.
Since they first started dating, Olivia has never had to lift a finger or pay a bill. He took care of all of it. Not only that, but he’d listen to her talk about nonsense for hours. Watch her favorite reality TV shows with her, read the books she was interested in and even would sit with her during her long hair appointments.
The man was just obsessed with her. He quite literally worshipped the ground she walked on. He’d do anything just as long as it meant he got to be in her presence.
-
Olivia happily danced around the kitchen as she listened to Beyonce’s loudest album (you know the one), while making steak with baked potatoes and asparagus. Smoke was coming home from work soon and she wanted to have dinner ready for him. She was a great cook and loved to use her talent to spoil her man since he loves to eat…
She quickly plated the food just as she heard the garage door open, grabbed a bottle of jack black and poured some in a cup over ice and then grabbed his blunt and gently placed it near his drink.
“Baby?” His rough voice called out to her and she nearly sprinted. She jumped in his arms and he effortlessly picked her up, placing his hands on her ass as her legs found his waist.
“Mmm, hi busy man. I missed you.” She placed her lips on top of his. Groaning into her mouth, Smoke deepened the kiss until the two were tongue tied.
“I made you dinner.” Olivia mumbled as she placed kisses on his face.
A smiled appeared on Smokes face as he walked them to the kitchen, placing her on the dinner table before grabbing the blunt that was waiting for him.
Taking a pull, Smoke then steps back to admire Olivia, he did this every time he came home after a long day. Today she was wearing a long pink robe with feathers on it and he could see the sliver of a silk baby pink nightgown underneath. Her hair was out and curled, framing her face that was covered in light make up.
He hummed in content before leaning in and pressing another kiss to her lips. “Beautiful, baby.” Olivia giggled softly, her cheeks reddening.
She always got shy around him.
Elijah sat down, blunt hanging from his lips as he eyed his plate. “You not eating with me princess?” She gave him a small nod as she sits across from him, her own plate still warm and waiting for her.
She knew that he loved spending as much time with her as he could, which meant breakfast and dinner were always spent together. As they began to eat, Olivia broke down her day to him in as much detail as possible, he needed to know everything, down to the shoes she decided to wear that day. Once she finished Smoke suddenly looked up at Olivia in confusion. “Wait, wasn’t today your book club meeting thing? You didn’t go?”
Olivias body stiffened slightly and he immediately noticed because he notices everything about her. “No, it got cancelled.” Not being able to meet his eyes, she got up and started loading the dishwasher.
“You lying to me Olivia?” Her heart dropped slightly as she heard the scrape of his chair. In just two strides Smoke was behind her, his hand wraps around her jaw, gently bringing her face towards him. “You don’t lie to me. So why you starting now?”
“I- it’s just. I- I don’t-”
“Spit it out, princess.” Sighing deeply, she gets on her tippy toes, placing a kiss to his jaw and then his lips. “The ladies… They didn’t want me in the club… They kicked me out.”
Olivia could practically feel the anger starting to take over his whole body. “And why the fuck would they do that?” He takes a step back, the frown on his face deepening by the second.
She shook her head.“It was nothing papa. They’re all just mean girls who have nothing better to do than to gossip.”
-
Two days ago, Olivia ran in the house squealing like a mad woman. She ran up the stairs and to the master bedroom where Smoke was taking his nap. Not caring that the man was 17 dreams in, she straddled his lap and slapped his chest.
“Shit, Olive.” He groaned, eyes fluttering open as he placed his hands on her hips. “What happened ?”
“I went to the bookstore and there was a flyer for a book club that the neighbors are hosting. I signed up for it and the first meeting is on Friday!”
Smoke smiled as he watched how giddy she was. Since they had moved, Olivia had felt a bit lonely with him being gone most of the day and all her friends and family being back in New York. He knew this was her opportunity to meet people. “I’m happy for you princess. What time is the meeting for?”
“It’s at 3PM and it’s not too far from here. I can wal-”
“Nah. I’ll have someone drop you off.” Olivia rolled her eyes and sighed.
“I’ll be fine papa, it’s like a ten minute walk. We’re not too far.”
“Do you know what could happen in ten minutes?” She leaned down to kiss his chest, a warm smile making its way to her face.
“You’re so dramatic. I’ll be okay. Promise.”
“Better be.” He mumbled tiredly before wrapping his arms around her and moving her body to lay next to his.
Friday had came faster than she anticipated, she woke up early that morning, had breakfast with Smoke and then showered. Olivia took the time to pick out her outfit which consisted of a pink maxi bodycon skirt that hugged all her curves and a white camisole. She did light makeup and prepped and moisturized her brown curls. By the time she was done, it was already 2:45. Grabbing her platform sandals, her LV tote and her phone, she made her way to her neighbors house.
Olivia got there 5 minutes early, nervously chewing on her lip as she waited for the door to open. She was met with a stiff face and a botched BBL that stared at her like Olivia had some nerve showing up at her house.
“Hi. Um, my names Olivia. I just moved here not too long ago, I live down the road. I’m here for the book club.”
A blonde and the lady who opened the door looked her up and down with what could only be described as disgust.
“Sorry but ya can’t join.” Olivia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “How come?”
“Listen Olivia, girl. We’ve been hearing some things about you. Well, more so who you lay with at night.” With a tilt of her head, Olivia gripped the straps of her tote to ground herself.
“You mean my husband?”
“Yeah… Him.”
“Okay… and what about my husband have you heard?” Blonde and botched give each other a look before turning their attention back to the woman who was itching to smack the smirks off of their faces.
“It’s really none of our business but we heard that your husband and his little twin brother be doing some shady business... Like they kill people for a living.” Botched responded in a hushed tone.
“Honestly I thought it was just rumors but… I always see them coming back late at night, windows tinted in their cars, sometimes coming back with different clothes than what they left with. It’s real weird.” Blonde shrugs like she just solved the world’s hardest equation.
“You watch everybody else’s husbands like that or just mine?” Olivias body burned in anger.
Botched rolled her eyes. “Listen girl. I’m just saying, the people are talking and it wont be long before the police start digging. We just don’t wanna get caught in the crossfire. We got kids to worry about. You understand, right?”
Olivia nodded slowly before turning on her heel and heading back home. Her eyes burned from embarrassment and anger. Once she got inside, she allowed herself to cry, then quickly fixed her makeup, changed into her robe and started working on dinner.
-
Smoke was quiet as he heard Olivia explain what happened. She bit her lip as she looked at him, his expression stoic. They had moved to the couch where she was straddling him, fingers playing in his beard.
“Want me to kill em?” She laughs loudly as she shakes her head. “No baby. You do enough killing already. Just leave it alone, it’s fine. I don’t care anymore.” Smoke could tell that the interaction was still bothering her and it tugged at his heart.
“You sure you don’t want me to do nun? Could make it look like an accident.” His favorite sound escapes her lips once again.
“No, crazy. Come on, let’s get ready for bed.” Smoke followed her up the stairs and to their shared room. They showered and got ready together before lying down.
The next morning, Smoke had stayed home and though Olivia was very happy about that, something about his energy just wasn’t right. He was always quiet and moved around the house in silence but something just felt off. She kept asking him if he was okay and he always told her that he was fine but she knew her man.
And he definitely wasn’t fine.
They spent the day cuddling, watching TV and eating and by the time the sun had set and the kitchen was cleaned, Olivia just couldn’t hold it anymore.
Smoke was sitting in their backyard, smoking his blunt as soft jazz played from the speakers when Olivia decided to join him. She stood behind him and rubbed her hands down his chest, giving him a kiss on his neck before walking around to face him.
“Elijah.” His eyebrow raised as he blew smoke out of his nose. “Yeah princess?”
She straddles his lap and places a kiss on his lips. “Talk to me, papa. What’s wrong?” Smoke closed his eyes momentarily before opening them up and looking down at Olivias thighs that were currently suffocating his legs.
“I just… I feel … I feel like I fucked your life up.” Olivia frowns as she grabs his face, forcing him to look at her.
“How could you have possibly fucked my life up?”
“I’m a hit man Olivia, I don’t have a normal job that you could brag to your friends about. You can’t tell your family what I do. I moved your whole life here to Miami and you can’t even make friends because of who I am.” He shakes his head, eyes looking anywhere but at her. “I’m sorry.”
Olivia’s eyes water as she watches her man crumble. For the first time since she’s met him, Smoke was actually being vulnerable. “Elijah. Do you know that I love you so much? Baby I don’t care about what you do as long as you come home to me.” She kisses his forehead. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks about you or if no one wants to be my friend. As long as I have you, that’s all that matters to me.”
His eyes were wide but soft. Olivia kissed down his face and towards his neck, lightly sucking on the sensitive skin right below his ear. Smoke groaned and tightened his grip around her ass. “I love you Elijah, I chose you. I chose this life with you and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her hands slide down his chest and under his shirt. His skin was warm and smooth.
“I love you too.” Olivia knew him more than he knew himself. She felt his chest rising and falling. The way his breathing slightly stuttered as her finger slipped past his nipples.
“Can I show you how much I love you?” Smoke’s eyes spoke volumes, the vulnerability still loud and present. His face showed how tired he was, carrying the weight of his emotions heavy on his shoulders. He slowly nodded, hands tightening around Olivia.
“I need to hear you baby boy.” She whispered into his ear. His body shook, he loved when she called him that.
“Yes… Please.” His voice was rough, vibrating against her lips that were back on his neck. Her hands slowly moved down to top of his sweatpants where she played with the waistband.
“So polite, baby.” Smoke was slowly loosing it, watching as she moves from his lap. She bites her bottom lip as she pushes his sweatpants down to his ankles along with his boxers. His dick already hard and leaking, sprung up, resting on his abdomen.
Olivia moans, mouth salivating at the sight. She leans down to press a kiss to his tip, giggling as his body twitched from the contact. “Olivia” He grunts out as her tongue twirls around the head before she spits on it.
Leaning back, Olivia slowly walked around Smoke, standing behind him. She runs the pads of her fingers up both of his arms feeling the goosebump forming. “Princess.” Smoke was on the verge of breaking. “Stop teasing me.”
“Where are your manners, baby boy? Hm?” She moved closer to him, her hands trailed down his body until they reached his dick that had seemed to get harder.
“Please, mama.” Olivia nearly moaned at the sound of his voice. He sounded so soft. He was begging.
Her hands wrapped around him, slowly stroking up and down, watching in awe as more pre-cum came out of him like he just couldn’t hold himself together.
“Mmm, you’re so needy today, papa. This is what you wanted huh?” Smoke had his eyes shut tight as she continued the slow pace, moans slipping past his lips. “Talk to me. Let mama hear you.”
He whimpered as her hands started moving faster, “Y-yes princess.” His breathing was coming out faster and heavier. Smoke turned his head to burry it in Olivias neck. He panted against her ear as his hips started thrusting upward trying to meet her strokes.
“You’re such a good boy.” Her voice was sultry and Smoke nearly came from hearing it. His entire body was shaking as he gripped the chair handles. Knuckles turning white from how hard he was holding them.
“I-I am?” Olivia sped up, listening to Smoke whine and moan against her neck.
“Yes papa, you’re so good. Look at how good you’re being for me right now.” Smoke bites down on his lip hard, body slowly arching as he felt his orgasm approaching.
“Baby… F-fuck.” He felt like he was in heaven. His eyes kept rolling to the back of his head every time Olivia added a bit more pressure.
“You gonna cum for me? Hm?” Smoke was loud against her neck, he just couldn’t contain himself.
“Y-yes. Can I cum mama?” Olivia kept pumping her hands up and down, watching him slowly crumble. He was so warm against her hands, so big and so thick. She felt a pool forming between her legs, she loved to watch him submit to her. She could watch him for hours and never get tired.
“Please baby. C-can I cum?” Smoke begged at his body tightened. He gritted his teeth, trying his best to hold back until Olivia gave him permission.
“Go ahead papa. Cum for me.” He trembled as streams of his cum squirt out rapidly, landing on Olivia’s hands and down his thighs.
“Fuuuucckkkkk.” He moaned, head still buried in her neck. Olivia giggled before leaning down to press a kiss on his forehead before walking back around. He watched her with narrow eyes, chest rapidly moving up and down, mouth slightly ajar and sweat forming near his eyebrows. Olivia licked his juices from her hands before grabbing a throw pillow from one of the lounge chairs.
She kneels down in front of him and Smoke stiffens as her hands crawl over his thighs. His dick already getting hard again. “Wait Olivia, hold up baby.”
Olivia lowers her head, opening her mouth and fitting as much of him as she could. Smoke growls, his hands moving to grip Olivias hair. She gags against his length causing him to twitch. He was so sensitive, barely getting a second to recover from his orgasm.
Olivia was messy. Sucking, licking and spitting all over him while her eyes remained on him the whole time.
“Look at me papa. I want you to watch me make you cum again.” Smoke felt like he was going crazy. His body wouldn’t stop vibrating, the grip on her hair tightened as he slowly peeled his eyes open. She was being sloppy, taking him deeper every time she went down. Her hands moved to play with his balls and Smoke moaned loudly as his head fell back.
“I’m gonna cum mama.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Olivia continued to treat him like her favorite lollipop, not stopping even when he looked like he could pass out at any second.
“Olivia! Fuck!” Smoke yelled as he shot his cum down her throat. Olivia swallowed every bit of it, moaning at the taste.
“So fucking good daddy.” She pressed another kiss to his tip, watching as he softened up. She stood up and grabbed his face, kissing him deeply. “Stay right here.” She walked back in the house, grabbing a small towel from the guest bathroom before going back to Smoke.
She cleaned him up and pulled his boxers and sweatpants back up, then she grabbed the forgotten blunt, lit it up and took a hit before placing it in between his lips.
okay i had a paige x reader request idea! The tiktok prank where it’s like hanging up and not saying ‘i love you too’ while on the phone with your significant other!
another idea could also be, being on the phone with the s/o in the room and calling them your ‘friend’ lol!
Loveeee this! Might do the 2nd idea another time
Not Saying It Back Prank
Pairing: Paige x wife! Reader
Fluff
Short drabble
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
POV: 1st person (wife!reader)
It started as a joke. A harmless little TikTok prank.
Except, I might’ve underestimated just how sensitive my 6'0" wife really is when it comes to the three magic words.
Paige was at the training facility, and I was home with our daughter Parker, who was currently sitting on the floor with her Barbie dolls and a juice pouch, completely unaware that I was about to start something.
“Alright,” I whispered to my phone camera, grinning, “I’m about to call my wife and hang up without saying ‘I love you too.’ Y’all pray for me.”
Parker glanced up. “Are you talkin’ to yourself again?”
“Shhh, baby. This is for TikTok. Wanna help me prank Mama?”
She lit up instantly. “YEAH!”
I put my phone on speaker and hit Paige’s name. She picked up on the third ring, slightly out of breath.
“Hey, pretty girl,” she said, that raspy voice already making me smile. “What’s up?”
“Just checking on you,” I replied sweetly. “How’s practice?”
“Exhausting,” she groaned. “Coach had us running fives back to back. I thought I was gonna see the light.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“I’m married to you. Of course I am,” she said proudly.
I covered my mouth to hide my laugh. Paige was such a simp. It was ridiculous.
And I loved her for it.
“Well, I just wanted to say hi. I’ll let you get back to it. Bye, babe.”
“Okay, I love you,” she said easily.
I paused for half a second—then ended the call.
Parker giggled and told me to "shhh"
I was biting my lip, trying so hard not to laugh. "Just wait.”
It took ten seconds before my phone rang again. Paige’s contact photo popped up—her holding a sleepy Parker on her chest, both of them drooling on our couch.
I answered with a casual, “Hello?”
“Did the call drop or somethin’?” she asked, very carefully.
“Nope,” I said, pretending to be busy wiping the kitchen counter. “I just hung up.”
There was a pause.
“...You didn’t say it back,” she said, voice dropping.
“Say what?”
Another pause. Longer.
“Wow.”
I lost it. I was full-on laughing into the sink while Parker held her mouth like she was in trouble.
“Is this a joke?” Paige asked. “Am I being pranked? Because I swear to God—”
“It’s just a TikTok, babe!” I said through my laughter. “I love you!”
“No, no, don’t try to say it now!” she huffed. “You hung up like I was a damn telemarketer. ‘Okay, bye.’
I was wheezing.
“Mama's mad,” Parker whispered, wide-eyed.
“Oh, I’m not mad,” Paige replied, clearly still on speaker. “I’m hurt. Deeply. My chest is tight.”
“Paige,” I chuckled. “You’re being so dramatic.”
“Don't talk to me. I’ve already made arrangements.”
“For what?”
“My funeral. Since clearly, I don’t matter anymore.”
“OH MY GOD.”
“I’ll be remembered as the wife who said ‘I love you’ and got a dial tone in return.”
I laughed so hard I dropped the sponge. “You are so annoying.”
“And you are mean,” she said, suddenly getting soft. “You better say it back right now or I’m pulling up. In my sweaty-ass jersey. With the whole team.”
“Not the whole team—”
“Yup. Gonna have Aaliyah and KK on each side like security guards. I’ll bang on that front door."
I finally broke. “Okay, okay, okay! I love you. I love you so much, babe. Forever. You’re my queen. My universe.”
“Mhmm.”
“My tall, beautiful, stubborn wife.”
“You forgot talented and sexy,” she mumbled.
I snorted. “My talented and sexy wife. Satisfied?”
There was a dramatic sigh on the other end. “Yeah, I guess I’ll live.”
Parker finally spoke up again. “Mama, you’re funny when you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad, baby,” Paige said. “I just got betrayed. By your mom.”
“PAIGE!”
She laughed and I could hear a basketball bounce in the background. “Alright, let me finish this last drill before I really drive home just to fight you.”
“Come home and kiss me instead.”
“I will. But you’re not getting cuddles unless you make Parker say it too.”
Parker looked up, grinning. “I love you!”
“Awwwww, I love you, bug. Okay, now tell Mommy she’s in trouble.”
Parker repeated it perfectly. “Mommy, you’re in trouble.”
“I’m never pranking either of you again,” I groaned.
Paige laughed. “Too late. I already got my revenge plan.”
idk if you’ve seen the trend about like saying my husbands full name in front of his family/friends but if you could do that with a paige x reader that would be amazing!!!!! btw i love your work so much all of your fics are amazing but especially your prank ones🫶🏼
Government Name Prank ♡
YES!! It's so cute and thank you babes for reading 💕
Short drabble
Pairing: Paige x wife! Reader
Fluff+suggestive speech
~Been gatekeeping alot of the prank series in my drafts from y'all.. Thinking of spoiling you guys with a couple of them today🤔
“PAIGE MADISON BUECKERS!”
You said it loud enough for the entire backyard to hear. The sudden sharpness of her full name sliced through the background hum of conversation, laughter, and the sound of Parker chasing her cousin with a bubble gun.
Everyone turned to look — everyone. Her mom blinked from behind her sweet tea. Azzi nearly choked on her chips. And Paige? Paige froze like a deer caught mid-step.
She turned slowly, eyebrows lifting, suspicious but amused. “I know you didn’t just government-name me at my own family cookout.”
You stood casually by the drink table, hands on your hips, sipping your lemonade like you hadn’t just embarrassed your wife in front of thirty people.
“Oh, I did,” you said sweetly. “Paige Madison Bueckers, would you mind telling me why Parker has been running around telling everyone you said she could have a pet lizard? A blue-tongued skink, to be exact?”
Paige blinked, wide-eyed and instantly defensive. “I said she could look at them in PetSmart! That’s not the same thing!”
“You said — and I quote — ‘We’ll see,’” you replied with mock seriousness. “Which, to a five-year-old, is a legally binding contract.”
Parker popped up beside her at that exact moment, cheeks flushed and curls bouncing. “Mama said yes, and she pinkie promised!”
“I did not pinkie promise—” Paige started, then sighed dramatically, flinging an arm over her forehead like she was in a soap opera. “This is betrayal. In front of the entire Bueckers family? Wow.”
Azzi, cackling now, mumbled between bites, “Y’all better work that out before Parker brings home a whole reptile rescue.”
“Don’t encourage her,” Paige shot back, shaking her head with a laugh.
You walked over and leaned into her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Don’t even expect nothing from me tonight if you’re out here making lizard promises.”
Paige looked down at you, narrowing her eyes in mock warning. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“I know I’m cute. That’s why I’m allowed to say ‘Paige Madison Bueckers’ in public.”
She leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Say it again when we get home and see what happens.”
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x singer! female Reader
POV: First Person (Reader’s)
🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤
The house was quiet again.
Too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind either...the kind that rings in your ears, that presses in when the people who fill a place are gone. I sat curled on the couch in my oversized hoodie, legs pulled up, watching the steam curl from the untouched tea on the table in front of me. My phone buzzed again, probably Lani or Malik from my team. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I hadn’t slept, barely eaten. I was just... moving. Performing. Smiling. Pretending.
Tour was supposed to be a dream. Sold-out arenas. Fans screaming my name. Outfits planned down to the inch. But every day away from them felt like I was losing more of myself. My chest ached every time I woke up alone. Paige and Azzi, my girls, my people,— were off chasing their own dreams, playing away games, schedules overlapping for the first time in forever.
They called every night. Without fail. Sometimes from the locker room, sometimes from hotel beds half-asleep, jerseys still on. Paige would call me pretty with that soft, lazy smile she did when she missed me. Azzi always asked, "You good, baby?" with this quiet knowing like she could read between my lies.
And I’d say, “I’m fine.” Every time. Because what else could I say?
“I’m falling apart without you”?
Three Days Ago
“Bug,” Paige murmured over FaceTime. “You sure you’re okay? You look tired.”
I adjusted the angle of my phone, trying to hide how hollow my eyes were in the hotel lighting.
“Just rehearsed a lot today,” I smiled. “It’s good. I’m good. You got the win?”
Azzi chimed in from her side of the bed, her cheeks flushed from postgame heat. “We did. Barely. You should’ve seen Paige, though she was pissed.”
“I wasn’t pissed,” Paige argued, throwing a sock at Azzi offscreen. “I was passionate.”
I laughed — actually laughed because I could see it all. Paige pacing the court, dramatic hands, annoyed at refs. “You're a menace,” I teased.
Paige grinned, eyes softening. “You look so beautiful when you laugh, pretty.”
That made my heart squeeze. “You guys are gonna make me cry.”
Azzi sat up a little. “Baby… we’ll be back soon. Just a few more days, alright? We miss you so much.”
I nodded, lips twitching. “I miss you both more.”
Tonight — 2 Hours Before Collapse
I should’ve known I didn’t have it in me.
The energy backstage was electric, but my limbs felt like they were made of wet sand. I hadn’t eaten anything besides a protein bar, and even that felt heavy in my stomach. Malik had been hovering, like he knew something was off, but I kept waving him off.
“Let’s go!” someone shouted, and the crowd roared as the lights dropped. Fog billowed. Music started.
I smiled. I had to. It was muscle memory now.
The first three songs were a blur. I hit my notes. I danced. I reached for fans’ hands in the pit. But by the fourth, the room spun. I blinked hard, tried to push through the bridge, but my knees buckled mid-line. Someone screamed. My mic clattered.
Everything went dark.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.
Bright lights. Cold sheets. Beeping monitors.
Lani was beside me, looking like she hadn’t stopped crying in hours.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, squeezing my hand. “Jesus, baby girl, you scared the hell out of us.”
“What... happened?”
“You passed out mid-song. They rushed you here. You were dehydrated, overworked. The doctor said you were completely burnt out.”
Shame burned in my chest. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I know, sweetie. We should’ve seen it. We should’ve done more.”
I turned my head away. I didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of her.
An hour later, I posted a short video to my fans:
“Hey guys,” I said softly, my voice raspy. “I’m okay. I promise. Just… ran myself a little too hard. I know a lot of you were at the show tonight and saw what happened. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve all of me, and I’ll be back out there soon — stronger. Take care of yourselves the way I should’ve taken care of me. I love you.”
Paige & Azzi — Hotel Room
Azzi was scrolling through her phone when she froze.
“Paige,” she said, sharp. “Look at this.”
Paige glanced over, then snatched the phone, eyes widening. “No. No way.”
There it was, a video of me collapsing on stage. The comments were frantic. Fans begging for updates. A repost of my apology video already blowing up.
And no one had told them.
Azzi stood, grabbing her bag. “I’m booking a flight.”
“We have a game tomorrow.”
“I don’t care. Paige, she passed out in front of thousands of people and didn’t tell us she wasn’t okay. We’re leaving.”
Paige was already dialing someone. “She could’ve hit her head. What if it had been worse? Why the hell didn’t her team call us?”
They were on the next red-eye.
A Day Later – My Penthouse
I’d been discharged with strict orders to rest. Lani and my assistant stocked the place with soup, medicine, soft blankets. But the silence was back. Worse now.
I missed them so bad it hurt to breathe.
I hadn’t told them. I knew they’d find out. But something in me had been so scared — scared they’d be disappointed, or worse, mad that I wasn’t strong enough. I curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over my shoulders and drifted off, heart aching.
I didn’t hear the door unlock.
Didn’t hear the footsteps.
But I felt them — warm hands brushing my hair back.
“hi pretty,” Paige whispered.
My eyes flew open. “Paige?”
Azzi was right beside her, kneeling at the edge of the couch. “We’re here, baby.”
Tears blurred my vision. “I—I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice tight. “Because we found out through a fucking Instagram page.”
I shrank into the cushions. “I didn’t want to worry you—”
“No,” Azzi said gently but firmly, cupping my face. “You don’t get to carry all that alone, pretty. Not when you have us.”
I cracked. Completely.
Tears poured down my face as I clutched them both. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I just… I didn’t want to seem weak.”
Paige pulled me onto her lap, holding me like I was fragile glass. “Baby, you are the strongest person I know. But even strong people break if they don’t rest. You don’t have to do it all.”
Azzi sat behind me on the couch, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her chin on my shoulder. “We’re gonna take care of you now, okay?”
Later That Night
We ended up in bed, all three of us tangled under the covers.
Paige was tracing circles on my stomach while Azzi massaged my scalp gently.
“You haven’t been eating,” Azzi murmured. “We saw the photos.”
“I’ve just been... overwhelmed.”
“You should’ve told us, bug,” Paige said, voice quiet. “I would’ve dropped everything. You are everything.”
I turned in their arms, curling tighter between them. “Can you just... stay for a while?”
“As long as you want,” Azzi promised. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The Next Morning
I woke up to soft kisses along my jaw.
“Hi, pretty,” Paige murmured. “You slept almost 12 hours.”
I stretched slowly, my muscles aching. “Didn’t realize I was that tired.”
Azzi kissed my shoulder. “You were. And you still need rest.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But I’m glad I’m not alone anymore.”
“You’ll never be alone again,” Paige said. “Not if we have anything to say about it.”
Pairing: Rio x Parker (OC, face claim: Jessica Alba)
POV: Parker, 1st Person
Word Count: ~12k
(Part 1 of a multi-part fic)
*smut warning
_________________________________________
You ever get that feeling right before a storm hits? Sky's too quiet, too still. Like it's watching you back.
That was the kind of week I’d had.
Beth called me Tuesday morning. She had that tone in her voice, the one that meant shit was already spinning and I was getting pulled in whether I liked it or not.
“You good to help with something for Rio?” she asked casually.
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see it. “Do I have a choice, or is this one of those friendly suggestions?”
She laughed. “It’s one of those ‘he’ll know if you say no’ situations.”
I already knew I was in. Not for Beth. Not even for the damn job. But… for him.
Rio.
He had a way of creeping into my mind like cigarette smoke in clothes. Permanent. Lingering. I’d tried not to care what he thought of me, I was new blood to him, another favor wrapped in lipstick. But sometimes when he looked at me, really looked, it felt like he saw right through the facade. Like he knew I’d been broken before and didn’t think less of me for it.
Didn’t mean I trusted him. Or anybody, really.
_______
Rio showed up to the print shop unannounced Thursday night. Black tee, chain glinting under the dim light, arms crossed like he owned the goddamn air in the room. Beth, Ruby, Annie, and I were already sitting around the table pretending to have our shit together.
“ladies,” he greeted smoothly, eyes skimming all of us before landing on me a beat longer.
He nodded once. “Got a little favor I need done.”
Beth cleared her throat. “What kind of favor?”
Rio smirked. “The kind where y’all show up, say a few words, and walk away with what I need. No drama. Just vibes.”
“Since when does anything we do come with just vibes?” I muttered.
His eyes flicked to me again. “You volunteering, lil bit?”
I should’ve said no. But instead I stood, grabbing my coat. “Who we talking to?”
He gave me a look I couldn’t read. “Name’s Carter. Owns a chop shop off Westlake. Thinks he don’t gotta pay what he owes. He’ll listen to you, though.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”
“Because you don’t flinch,” he said simply. “And he likes pretty faces.”
Beth shot me a look that screamed are you sure, but I was already halfway out the door.
_________
Carter didn’t like my tone. Or maybe he didn’t like that I didn’t come alone.
I had Ruby in the car, parked around the corner in case anything went sideways. I walked into the garage like I’d done it a thousand times, even though my stomach was tight with unease.
Carter was greasy in every way — hands, smile, energy. He sized me up and smirked like he’d already decided I wasn’t walking out with shit.
“You think because you’re cute, I’m gonna hand Rio his cut?” he asked, stepping too close.
“I think because you’re late,” I said, voice sharp, “and because Rio’s already being patient, you should stop trying your luck.”
That’s when he hit me.
Open palm, across the face — hard. I stumbled, caught myself against a steel table, and didn’t cry out. But I felt the crack of something else — memory — tearing open in my chest.
Bryce used to hit me like that when I talked back.
“Still think I should pay?” Carter spat.
I turned slowly. My cheek was hot, stinging. “You’re gonna wish you didn’t touch me.”
He laughed. “Bitch, please—”
I drove my knee into his gut, then cracked him across the temple with a wrench off the table. He didn’t go down, but he staggered. Ruby laid on the horn outside.
I didn’t wait. I ran.
_________
I didn’t show up to the next meeting. I couldn’t.
The side of my face was bruised, ribcage aching from where Carter had kicked me on my way out. I didn’t want the girls asking questions. Didn’t want Rio seeing me like this.
Too bad the universe didn’t give a damn about what I wanted.
That night, around 10:30, my front door creaked open.
I sat up on the couch in nothing but shorts and a faded hoodie, half a beer in my hand and an ice pack on my side.
“Who the hell—”
And there he was.
Rio.
Leaning in the doorway, casual as anything, but his jaw was clenched. His eyes dropped to the bruises on my face, and the air changed.
His voice was low. Rough. “Who fucked you up, mama?”
I straightened up, trying to shrug it off. “It’s nothing.”
He stepped closer. I flinched — not on purpose, just instinct. But he noticed. His face shifted.
“Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t pull away from me.”
“I’m fine,” I lied again, pulling the hoodie tighter.
“You ain’t fine. You’re bruised the fuck up and hiding out like I wouldn’t notice.”
I met his eyes, defiant and raw. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I screwed up? That I should’ve seen it coming? It’s done.”
Rio moved closer, then sank down to crouch in front of me. One hand reached out, slow. He brushed his thumb under my eye where it was dark purple.
His voice dropped. “He hit you more than once?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
He stood. Pacing now. Jaw tight.
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.”
I stood up too fast, wincing. “No you’re not.”
He turned on me, close again. “The fuck I’m not?”
“Because I don’t need you to handle it like I’m weak,” I snapped, tears burning behind my voice. “I’m not some scared girl—”
“I know that,” he said, quiet. “That’s why I’m here.”
The silence between us got heavy. He looked at me like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how.
Then his hand was on my waist.
Gentle.
Careful not to touch where it hurt.
“I don’t like seeing you like this, lil bit.”
I breathed out, shaky. “You think I do?”
He leaned in, lips brushing my temple. Then my cheekbone. Then lower.
His breath against my neck made my knees weak.
“You gonna let me kiss you, mama?” he asked against my skin.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
He kissed my neck first. Slow. Hot. Then my lips.
It was everything we hadn’t said. All the tension. The danger. The heat.
He backed me up against the wall, hand sliding under my hoodie to touch the skin at my waist, careful of my ribs. I groaned against his mouth.
His voice was husky, close to my ear. “Tell me if I need to stop.”
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t stop.”
His mouth traveled down my throat as he pulled the hoodie over my head, fingers brushing the curve of my sides. I hissed slightly at the contact on my bruised rib, and he paused.
“You good?” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I panted. “Just—gentle.”
“I got you, lil bit.”
He kissed his way down my stomach, fingers hooking in my shorts and sliding them down slowly. When his tongue brushed the inside of my thigh, I gasped.
“Fuck, Rio...”
He chuckled low. “You sound so sweet when you moan, mama.”
His tongue found my clit, teasing circles at first, then firmer. One hand held my hip while the other slid up my thigh. My head fell back against the wall, fingers buried in his curls as I rocked against his mouth.
When I came, it hit hard. shaking, breathless, legs trembling. He stood after, licking his lips like he’d devoured me whole.
“You taste like trouble,” he muttered, before kissing me again, deep and filthy.
Then he spun me gently toward the couch, lifting my leg around his hip.
He slid inside me slow, thick and deep, and the stretch had me gasping into his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, whispering, “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby... fuck.”
He moved slow at first. Controlled. Making me feel every inch. Then his rhythm shifted, harder, deeper. His hand on my throat wasn’t tight just enough to ground me.
Our moans echoed in the apartment, tangled with the creak of the couch and the slap of skin. He bit my shoulder as he came, groaning into my neck, arms wrapped around me tight like he couldn’t let go.
Afterward, he pulled out slow, kissed my cheek, then disappeared into my kitchen. When he returned, he was holding the ice pack I’d dropped.
“Put this on your ribs, mama,” he said, voice rough.
He didn’t wait for me to answer. Just handed it over, then grabbed his jacket from the chair.
I watched him move like nothing had happened. But when he got to the door, he paused. Looked back.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then he left without a word.
Leaving me sore, aching, and more confused than ever.
----------
I woke up sore in places I didn’t expect — ribs, thighs, throat. The dull ache between my legs reminded me I hadn’t just imagined last night.
Rio.
His mouth. His voice. His hands that held me like I might break and fuck me like he wanted to own every part of me.
I sat up slow, the blanket falling around my waist. My hoodie was still bunched near the couch. My shorts were inside-out on the floor. I looked around for him, but the apartment was empty. Of course it was.
That man could set your soul on fire and then disappear like smoke.
I stared at the melting ice pack on the table, the one he handed me without a word after pulling every moan from my body. I should’ve known better. Should’ve never let it get that far. But when he kissed me, when he touched me… it didn’t feel like a game.
It felt real.
And that scared the hell out of me.
___________
By 11AM, I had a fresh bruise blooming on my ribcage, and the cheek Carter slapped was tender to the touch. I hadn’t told the girls what really went down. I figured Beth would guilt-trip herself, Ruby would cry, and Annie would go looking for the guy with a bat and no plan.
No thanks.
I cleaned up, pulled on some leggings and a tank, and iced my ribs again on the couch, flipping channels like that’d distract me from replaying Rio’s voice in my head.
“You gonna let me kiss you, mama?”
Jesus.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
That man was dangerous — not just in the he’ll kill a man for crossing him way. But in the he sees shit I don’t want seen way. I’d spent years building walls after Bryce. And somehow, in one night, Rio had cracked them without even trying.
My phone buzzed.
Beth: “Where were you this morning?? Rio asked about you.”
I stared at the screen.
He asked about me?
Before I could text back, there was a knock on my door.
Then silence.
Then the handle turned.
I didn’t even get a chance to move before he walked in like he paid rent.
“Seriously?” I said, standing quickly, wincing slightly at the pull in my side. “You gotta start knocking like a normal human.”
Rio closed the door behind him, leaning against it like he wasn’t the reason my stomach was doing flips.
“You didn’t show up,” he said, eyes dragging down my body. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.”
“I texted Beth.”
“I don’t trust Beth.”
I crossed my arms, trying not to flinch. “Well, I’m alive. You can go now.”
He didn’t move.
His eyes flicked to the ice pack on the coffee table. “You did what I asked?”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
“You see a doctor?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not made of glass, Rio.”
His jaw clenched. “Didn’t say you were. But you ain't bulletproof either, lil bit.”
He walked toward me. My breath hitched.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I muttered.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m yours.”
Silence.
He stepped even closer. “Maybe you are.”
That shut me up.
He brushed his fingers along my jaw, turning my face gently toward the light. “He marked you up real good, huh?”
“I got a few hits in too.”
He smirked. “Atta girl.”
His hand slid down to my waist, and I inhaled sharply as his thumb grazed my side.
“You sore?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“You want me to stop?”
I hesitated. “No.”
The tension between us was back, thick and hot and heavy like steam in a closed room. I felt it in my throat, in the way my body leaned closer when I knew better.
“You always show up unannounced?” I asked softly.
He gave a crooked smile. “Only when I can’t stop thinking about someone.”
My heart thudded too loud in my chest.
“Is that what this is?” I whispered. “You thinking about me?”
He dipped his head, lips brushing mine. “Can’t get you outta my head, mama.”
The kiss was softer this time. Slower.
Less heat, more weight.
Like he wasn’t trying to fuck me senseless — just… feel me. Be close. It caught me off guard more than the first time. My hands slid into his shirt, palms flat against his chest. His heart was beating as fast as mine.
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. “You don’t gotta be tough with me.”
I blinked, suddenly too exposed. “I don’t know how not to be.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
He leaned in again, but a knock at the door made both of us jump.
I tensed.
“You expecting someone?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“No.”
He stepped to the door, checked the peephole, then opened it a crack.
Beth’s voice came through. “Uh — is Parker here?”
Rio pulled it open fully, standing there like a damn wall between her and me.
Beth’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Hi…”
I stepped out from behind him, trying to act casual. “Beth. Hey.”
She looked between us, then at my face, then down at Rio’s hand still on my waist.
“Oh my God,” she said flatly. “You slept with him.”
I sighed. “Don’t start.”
Beth stepped inside. “I won’t, but we’ve got a problem.”
_______
Turns out Carter wasn’t done.
Beth explained quickly, he’d gone off-script, blaming the girls for some shipment Rio had nothing to do with. Said we threatened him. That we owed him now.
Rio’s face went stone cold.
“I told you not to touch him,” he said quietly to me.
“I didn’t,” I snapped. “Until he hit me.”
He turned to Beth. “Where is he?”
Beth hesitated. “I don’t know. But I can find out.”
Rio gave me one last look, that unreadable, dangerous calm...then left the apartment.
Didn’t kiss me. Didn’t say goodbye.
Just left.
After Beth left too, I cleaned up again, moving slower this time. Every part of me ached, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside my chest. That feeling like I’d just crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.
Because sleeping with Rio? That wasn’t casual. Not for me.
And I didn’t know what it meant yet — if anything.
But when I looked at the bruises on my body and remembered the way he touched me like I was more than just some pawn in his game…
𖥠 content warnings: top!ellie x sub!reader, porn w no plot, gunplay (r!receiving, consensual, unloaded, treated as a kink object), oral fixation (licking/sucking gun), AFAB!reader, cursing, pet names, spit kink, mild choking, degradation + praise, overstimulation, power dynamics, brat taming, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖
it starts, like it always does, with you mouthing off.
ellie’s at the edge of the bed, legs spread, perched in a chair that’s more throne than furniture. the window’s cracked open behind her. the clouds blur into the moonlight.
she’s cleaning her gun again—not for protection, not for purpose, but for the meditative rhythm of it. something ancient in her hands, like a priest with a chalice.
and you—bratty, barely clothed in a paper-thin tank and those sleep shorts she loathes and loves at the same time— are sprawled across the sheets, soft skin glowing under the bedside lamp.
“gonna spend more time with that thing than me tonight?”
your voice is honey-laced venom. flirtatious, syrupy, barbed. she hears the dare in it. she always does.
ellie doesn’t answer right away. she slides the barrel back into place. presses the magazine in, safety flicks on with a soft click. there’s a smile on her lips that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. the kind that says she’s deciding whether to be sweet. or cruel.
“you jealous, baby?”
that voice. low and warm and mocking, but still so tender it hurts.
“maybe.” you stretch, belly tight, spine arching in a way that’s downright pornographic. “it’s prettier than me.”
her head lifts. one eyebrow raises. her gaze cuts you in half.
“nothing’s prettier than you.”
you roll your eyes.
and that’s it. the eye-roll, the little sigh, the careless way you flop onto your back like you’re bored. like she doesn’t have her trigger finger twitching. like she doesn’t wake up every morning already wet just from the thought of shutting you up.
she sets the gun down.
softly.
like it's not the most dangerous thing in the room.
“come here.”
there’s a change in the air. you feel it like a shift in pressure. her voice is velvet-wrapped steel—low, calm, lethal. not angry, but simmering. inevitable.
“ellie,” you murmur, but you’re already moving.
“no,” she says again. “come. here.”
she’s spread out in that chair like she owns even the air you're breathing. tattooed arm draped over her thigh. pupils blown wide. the slow smirk of someone who’s been waiting all day for an excuse.
“you got a lot to say tonight,” she murmurs when you get close. “real mouthy for someone who couldn’t stop begging ten minutes ago.”
“wasn’t begging,” you whisper, breathless. fake confident.
she tilts her head. hums low in her throat.
“nah. you were whining.”
her hand curls around your wrist and tugs you into her lap. you’re not even sure how you end up there — her fingers are hot against your skin, her thigh spreads you open instinctively. she kisses you once, deep and slow, like she’s claiming her prize. then she leans back.
“take your clothes off.”
you blink.
her voice is soft, but the command in it cuts like glass.
“why?”
she smiles.
and picks the gun back up.
“ellie—”
“relax.” her voice is velvet now, coaxing, almost sweet. “you trust me?”
you nod. instantly.
“you like being a brat, huh?” she murmurs. “you like pushing me.”
your heart’s in your throat. “maybe.”
“you want me to show you who you fucking belong to?”
a shaky breath. a nod.
and when you comply, you do it slow. ceremoniously. like you’re undressing for god — or something much, much worse. your fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, peeling them down your thighs with shaky grace. your breath hitches at the chill in the room, the way it grazes over your freshly bare skin. you kick them aside, standing exposed from the waist down — but ellie’s still watching. still waiting.
your hands reach for the hem of your tank. soft cotton, now clinging with sweat. you pull it up, slow enough to feel her eyes follow the motion. over your ribs, your chest, your shoulders. when it finally leaves your body, you’re stripped to nothing — and that’s when it hits.
you feel it.
the weight of her stare. like a spotlight. like heat crawling over every inch of you. ellie’s not just looking, she’s devouring. the kind of look that makes you feel like prey, like art, like her favorite sin all at once. it makes your skin burn. your pulse skip. your thighs press together on instinct, already aching.
she doesn’t speak.
she just spins the gun in her hand with the ease of long practice—as if she was born with it, the ritual of cleaning and handling the only thing that steadies her. it twirls in her palm once, twice, catching the light as it flips , and then lands barrel-down in her open hand. her thumb brushes the safety. her fingers curl around the grip.
she’s still watching you.
you’re completely bare. she’s fully clothed. legs spread, eyes dark. the contrast makes you feel tiny. and impossibly turned on.
"you look like a dream,” she murmurs, her gaze pinning you in place like a knife to the throat. there’s a smirk playing on her lips — cocky, slow-burning — but her eyes are pure fire.
she spins the gun in her hand again and lets the barrel rest on her open palm.
“spit.”
“ellie—”
“spit on it.”
she doesn’t blink. and you —shaking now, lips parted— obey.
saliva hits the black metal, slick and hot. it glides down the barrel in the most obsene, wicked way imaginable.
ellie groans, quiet. pleased.
“fuck. good girl.”
she uses her thumb to smear it in. sensual, fucking indulgent.
“turn around.”
and you do. breath hitched. you straddle her lap with your back to her chest, thighs spread wide, cunt wet and aching. every inch of you is electric.
she nudges the barrel between your legs. just a tease. the steel is cold and slippery now, coated in spit and tension.
“still think she’s prettier than you?”
“n-no.”
“you gonna behave now?”
“i’ll try.”
she laughs against your neck.
“cute. too bad i don’t want ‘try.’ i want a 'yes'.”
and then she presses the barrel inside you.
your body jolts like it’s been shocked, the cold metal punching the breath from your lungs. it’s an unnatural stretch, one you've never felt before — not wide, but so precise. so smooth. it doesn’t flex. it doesn’t give. it fills you with the weight of power, the absolute certainty that you are being claimed, not fucked. your muscles clench instinctively, helplessly. the coolness burns as it warms inside you, the safety ridge dragging ever-so-slightly against your entrance, sending jolts up your spine.
ellie’s eyes are locked on your face, watching the transformation. the way your expression flickers from shock to lust to devotion.
she pushes in deeper, not rough, just deliberate. your thighs quiver around her lap. your cunt is already dripping, coating the slick metal in heat and want.
“jesus,” you gasp, nearly choking on it.
ellie grins, her voice a dark ribbon in your ear.
“nah, baby. not him.”
she begins to move. slow, sinful thrusts. the steel slides in and out, obscene and perfect. your slick is making it glide now, every drag sending aftershocks through your belly. it’s mechanical and intimate all at once. humiliating and holy. you’re spread wide on her lap, completely open, held still by her arm wrapped tight around your waist.
“this what you wanted?” she whispers. “you like being used like this?”
you moan. “yes—”
“like my little toy? like a wet fuckin’ hole?”
“yes—yes—”
your hips are rocking now, chasing it. chasing her.
“needy thing,” she breathes. “so fucking desperate. you gonna come like this? on my gun?”
“please, ellie—please—”
she lets out a groan. fucks it into you a little deeper. her free hand wraps around your throat, pulling you upright against her chest. your head falls back and your breath breaks.
“you hear yourself?” she murmurs. “you gonna remember this next time you wanna mouth off.”
she fucks you harder, a little rough now. precise. measured. like she knows every angle of your body, built it with her calloused hands just to use it like this.
you’re shaking.
“say it,” she growls.
“i’m yours,” you sob.
“again.”
“i’m yours—i’m yours—”
and then it hits you — a high so sharp it feels like lightning cracking down your spine. your body spasms. thighs clamp, back arches, a broken sob escaping your lips as you shatter. it’s not just release — it’s surrender. full-body, soul-deep, trembling surrender. you’re crying, and you don’t even realize it. your voice breaks open in a moan that borders on a whimper, like the pleasure was too much for you to carry.
ellie doesn’t stop. she fucks you through it — slow, possessive thrusts, making you feel every inch of the steel inside you, every twitch of your cunt around it, every aftershock that ripples through your core. her mouth is hot on your neck, mouthing filth against your skin like prayers.
“that’s it, baby,” she breathes. “that’s my girl. coming on my fucking gun like you were made for it.”
your body slumps against her, boneless. still twitching. still clenching around nothing when she finally eases the barrel out of you. the drag is slow —so slow— and the loss leaves you whimpering, your cunt fluttering around emptiness, dripping with slick and spit and the remnants of your orgasm.
ellie looks down at you like she’s just unearthed a masterpiece.
“fuck,” she mutters, reverent. “look at this mess.”
your thighs are soaked. your stomach rising and falling like you’ve run for your life. your cheeks are damp, lips parted, eyes barely focused.
she slides the gun slowly along your stomach, your chest, your neck, painting your release on your skin like a signature. deliberate, crude, worshipful.
then she leans in and presses a kiss to your neck — soft, warm, tender in the aftermath.
“mine,” she murmurs.
you nod, dazed. dizzy. your body’s humming. you don’t think you could move if you tried.
and then —slow as a ritual— she lifts the gun to her mouth.
you watch, hypnotized, as her tongue parts her lips. she licks a long, filthy stripe up the length of the barrel, tasting your slick like it’s a holy thing, worshipping the altar of your body even after she’s already made you come undone. her eyes flutter shut for half a second, lashes trembling. she hums low in her throat, a sound that vibrates through your chest like a second orgasm blooming.
and then she parts her lips wider — and takes the barrel into her mouth.
your breath catches. your knees almost give out.
she doesn’t break eye contact. not once.
it slides past her tongue, slow and obscene. her lips wrap around the metal like it’s your cunt she’s sucking. she moans around it, and it’s not just a show—it’s real, messy, shameless want. her spit mixes with your slick, glistening at the corners of her mouth. the sight is nothing short of devastating. your stomach twists.
her free hand slides between your legs, presses two fingers inside you without warning.
you cry out, overstimulated, needy.
“shit.” she says around the barrel, pulling it out with a soft wet pop. “sweetest fucking thing in the world.”
she sets it aside like it’s holy. it’s much more sacred now that it’s been inside you.
then she grips your chin. firm but gentle. tilts your face back so your eyes meet hers — pupils blown, lashes damp, lips trembling.
࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ PURE. FILTH. IM SHOKED WITH MYSELF. THE PARTS OF A GUN TAB IS STARING AT ME. AND JUDGING. huge HUGE HUGE love and tysm to my gorg mootie who sent this amazing request before i even started collide—you live in my brain rent free forever bby!
i might play around with a few more fics + requests before launching the next big series i’ve been outlining (👀), so stay tuned babes. ily all dearly ♡
credits for divider: @kodaswrld <3 – images from pinterest - edited by me
summary dallas!paige x hispanic!reader spicy game with paige. masterlist.
warnings not really smut but suggestive sexual thoughts. hickeys, finger sucking
celestial notes thought of this after seeing a tiktok. chapter 3 of taste of love will be released tmr! i promise!
“yeah, you make me go
love me, love me now, love me, love me good
don’t need nobody else when it feels this good
ain’t nobody around, do it like you should.” twice - make me go
her keys jangled from her hands as she walked through the door, paige was carrying a target bag. “babe!” she shouted.
you placed the curling iron down. “in here!“ you yelled, loud enough hopefully for her to hear. paige had an off day, and she wanted to spend it with you since they were occasional. you both didn’t want to go anywhere, just wanted to spend time in your apartment together and soak up each other’s presence.
paige playing her first rookie season was chaotic. multiple games a week, flying to and from different cities, her being jet lagged, and she didn’t have enough time to see you or spend with you. however, you grateful for this one day of rest she got.
you heard footsteps coming from the hallway, her valentino cologne tingling by. paige paused and leaned on the doorway, “whats the occasion?” paige whistled, admiring you.
you smirked, “you.” paige gave a peck on your lips as you curled another piece of you hair. you noticed the bag in her hand. “what’cha get?”
she paused, opening the bag and pulling out a box, showing it off like a prized possession. “found this game, wanna try it later tonight?”
you placed down a can of hairspray and grabbed the box. “rizzy games? really?” you rolled your eyes, unsurprised. this was definitely a game paige would pick out, as she called herself the “ultimate rizzler.”
you studied the box carefully, pointing your finger to read out the small text. “a spicy date game for…” you rolled your eyes, handing her back the box towards her chest.
she smiled, pointing to herself “what can i say? its something thats in you, not on you.”
“you’re so corny!” you teased, pushing her away from you.
paige moved closer, hands on your waist, practically feeling her breathing on your skin. “you know you love it.” she said, kissing your cheek afterwards.
-
after dinner, you sat down on the carpet, leaning against the coffee table. paige placed her empty dish in the sink. “you always make the best fucking food, i swear.” you smiled from her compliment, glancing at her from across the living room. “i’m glad you liked it.”
paige bent down to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of tequila. this tex-mex was really rubbing off on her ever since she got drafted. “since when do you know tequila?” you joked.
paige smiled. “since i was at the store. also this game requires drinking, if you don’t want to we don’t ha-.”
you cut her off immediately. “babe, i am always up for reconnecting with my people. dame la botella.”
growing up hispanic, drinking was not a surprise. it was at every family gathering or party. you sometimes occasionally snuck sips before 21.
she was puzzled, her eyebrows shooting up as she was grabbing shot glasses. you reached your hand out. “give me the bottle. didn’t you take spanish in high school?”
she sat walked to the coffee table and sat down, carrying the card game under her arm, tequilla in one hand, shot glasses in another. “that was like 8-9 years ago.” paige spoke, handing you the tequila.
“it should ring a bell by now with me occasionally talk to you.” you opened the bottle and poured some in your glass, then in paige’s. you both grabbed the glasss, saying cheers as they clanked together, gulping yours down like it was nothing.
you looked at paige, seeing her face after drinking it all. “how was it?”
her face puckered. “it was okay, props to you for having this growing up.” you laughed. “you get used to it paige.”
“alright.” paige spoke, rubbing her hands together. she grabbed the back of the box, reading the directions. “shuffle the cards and place the cards face down in the center. on your turn draw your card…blah blah blah.”
“that wasn’t helpful.” you joked. paige didn’t like instructions most of the time.
she rolled her eyes. “such a princess. basically pick a card, say it out loud and do what it says. the more intense the card is the more points its worth, first to 29 points wins.”
“why 29?” you asked.
paige shrugged. “i don’t know, its just what the game says.”
you grabbed the cards out of the box and shuffled them on the table as paige watched you in awe. there was the reason why you always were the shuffler in games. “rock paper scissors who goes first.”
she got her hands ready. “out of 3?”
you smiled, picking rock as she chose scissors. “okay i win!” you grabbed a card from the deck.
“try not to smooch 1 inch away from your partner for 60 seconds. fail? sip simp.” you grabbed your phone and put a time on for a minute. “ready?”
“born ready.” paige shot back.
you and paige both moved closer to each other, face to face. you looked at her blue ocean eyes, instantly dilating from the look of you. you can see a wave of blush hitting her cheeks. “its my challenge and you’re the one flustered over me.” you teased.
“well how can i stop myself when this view in front of me is all mine?” paige’s eyes darted to your lips, and you noticed. before you crashed onto hers, the timer rang. +1 for you. “you’re impossible” you told paige.
“i guess you can say you’re fallin’, hard.” paige spoke, attempting to be nonchalant. she grabbed a card from the deck. paige started smiling, you knew this was bad.
“blindfold your partner and sneak a kiss somewhere they wouldn’t expect.”
“but what if i expect it everywhere?” you questioned. paige laughed, covering your eyes with her hands. she whispered in your ear, “someone’s a little too confident.”
paige grabbed the neckline of your top, moving it towards your shoulders. she placed a kiss on the side of your neck, then more upwards towards your jaw. once she started, she couldn’t stop. paige started sucking and biting, strings of saliva connecting from her lips to you neck. a soft moan escaped you as she placed a hickey on you neck, claiming you were hers.
she uncovered your eyes, a grin escaping her. “expecting that?”
you heartbeat became faster. “no.”
“good.” +2 for paige. you grabbed another card. “‘what’s something your partner does thats lowkey a turn-on but not meant to be?’ oh definitely when you’re mad.”
she sat straight up. “really?”
you nodded. “its hot, coming from you.”
“next time i’m mad, i’m coming to you. i’m surprised no one has drank yet.” it was paige’s turn. “‘do a squat with your partner on your back.” paige stood up in a flash. “easy.”
paige reached for your hand to bring you up. you sat down on paige’s shoulders, then she started to squat down. “paige if you drop me i’m gonna kill you!” you shouted
“i got you. baby you’re like 100 pounds. i could do this all day.” you hands found her hair, trying to purposefully mess it up. she put you down and sat down once again. “how many do i have?” she asked, handing you her cards.
you analyzed the points at the bottom. “3.”
“only that many?” she asked, confused.
“well, if you get pink its 3 and if you get purple its 4.” you gave her back her cards, picking a card now that it was your turn.
“suck your partners fingers seductively.” you started smiling, then looked at paige.
paige looked ready. “you’re not gonna drink for this you, are you?”
you grabbed her wrist. “nope.” she placed her fingers in your mouth. you licked all around, placing a thick coat of spit. paige’s body became hot. your head bobbled, sucking her fingers like she ordered you to do before. you both were enjoying this deep down, getting turned on by the minute.
once you finished, her fingers released from your mouth. she turned to look at you with lust, placing her fingers in her mouth and licking off your flavor. “god you’re fucking killing me here.”
paige reached out and grabbed a card. “‘drink if you want to have sex right now.’ man give me the fucking bottle.”
she drank her shot then looked at you for approval. it was the look that made your legs feel like jello. you both smiled, as if you could read each others minds of what you both wanted in that moment, pleasure.
she grabbed your wrist with anticipation and headed upstairs towards the bedroom with one thing in mind, making you feel good.
The video starts with you crouched behind the kitchen island, camera propped up and angled toward the front door. You're whispering excitedly into the mic, grinning like a little kid who just stole from the cookie jar.
"Okay y’all," I whisper into the camera, trying to keep my voice low so our daughter doesn’t give it away too early. "So, Paige is on her way home from a media shoot right now, and today we're pulling the ultimate prank. I got Parker in on it too—"
Cut to Parker, our 5-year-old, sitting on the barstool with her little pink Crocs swinging off her feet. Her curly ponytail bounces as she giggles and holds up two tiny thumbs.
“She’s gonna tell Paige that she missed ‘mommy’s friend’ who was here earlier today,” I grin devilishly. “And that we were cuddling like how mommy and mama cuddle.”
Parker giggles again and nods eagerly like she’s been practicing a line for Broadway.
"Y’all, Paige is gonna LOSE it—she’s so protective, especially with Parker. I’m gonna act super calm, like I have no idea what she’s talking about. Just wait. She’s supposed to be home any minute, so let’s gooo.”
Cue the soft click of the door unlocking.
---
The front door swings open and in walks Paige, fresh from a shoot. She’s got her UConn hoodie half-zipped, camera bag over one shoulder, and that familiar ‘I’m-tired-but-will-smile-for-you’ look on her face.
“Hellooo?” she calls out, toeing off her sneakers. “Where’s my girls at?”
I glance toward Parker and mouth, ‘go!’
Parker dashes toward Paige and throws her arms around her legs. “Mama!”
Paige scoops her up like clockwork. “Heyyy baby girl! You miss me?”
Parker nods, curls bouncing. “Yeah! You missed mommy’s friend though! She was here and they were cuddling on the couch like you and mommy do!”
Cue silence.
Paige stiffens just enough that I notice. Her head turns toward me, eyes narrowing slightly as she tries to piece it together.
“What friend?” she asks with a soft laugh, still balancing Parker on her hip. “Who came over?”
Parker beams. “I dunno her name! But she was pretty. They were real close! Like this—” Parker presses her cheek to Paige’s shoulder dramatically.
Paige gently sets her down. “Why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, baby? Mommy will come in to tuck you in later.”
Parker skips off. “Okay! Love you!”
Paige turns slowly to me, eyebrows already scrunched together in concern.
“…What friend was Parker talking about?”
I play dumb, continuing to pour juice into a glass.
“Huh?”
She crosses the kitchen. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Parker just said you had some friend over, and y’all were cuddling like we do? What is she talking about?”
I sip the juice.
“I think she was just being silly. Probably a cartoon or something,” I shrug, placing the cup in the sink.
“Babe,” Paige’s tone is more serious now. “That didn’t sound like pretend. Did someone come over today?”
I casually pick up my phone and scroll like she didn’t just ask me a very direct question.
Paige’s nostrils flare. “Are you ignoring me right now?”
“Hm?” I don’t even glance up.
Now she’s standing right in front of me, hands planted firmly on the counter.
“You know how I feel about having someone around Parker without telling me first. So, did someone come over?”
“Nope,” I say, still scrolling. “Nothing happened.”
Paige’s eyes narrow. She pulls her bottom lip into her teeth, breathing slowly. That’s how I know she’s trying not to snap. She's not yelling—but she’s definitely mad.
“So Parker just made all that up?” she asks tightly.
“Looks like it.”
Ok she's officially scary looking.
“She said y’all were cuddling,” Paige presses. “That’s not a detail you imagine unless you see something.”
I finally glance up with fake innocence. “Maybe she saw it in a movie?”
Her jaw clenches, and I know I’m on thin ice.
“Don’t play with me right now,” she says low. “I just got home and the first thing I hear is that my wife was snuggled up on the couch with a ‘pretty friend’ while I was gone. I’m trying really hard not to make this a thing because Parker’s still awake. But you’re gonna have to explain it...right now.”
Just as I’m about to “forget” how to respond, Parker runs out from the hallway clutching her toy bunny.
“Mama, can I have some juice too?”
Paige steps back and nods, but her eyes never leave mine.
“Yeah, baby. Sit at the island, I’ll pour you some.”
---
I hand Parker her juice and take a seat across the counter. Paige leans back against the fridge, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but tight.
“You’re seriously not gonna tell me what’s going on?” she says under her breath.
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh.
Parker sips her juice loudly. “Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
She lowers her cup. “You should tell mama. It’s not nice to make her all tight-face.”
Paige lets out a soft chuckle but doesn't look away from me.
“Oh, I’m tight-faced?” she repeats, raising a brow.
Parker nods. “Like when I spilled syrup on your laptop.”
That earns a tiny laugh out of me.
Paige finally huffs and leans across the island. “Look. I love you. But I don’t like feeling like I’m being lied to in front of our daughter.”
I finally crack.
“…Okay, okay, wait. Let me show you something.”
I reach up to the cabinet and pull out the camera, spinning it toward her.
“Smile, you just got caught lacking again!”
Paige blinks.
Then stares at the red blinking “REC” light.
Then at Parker.
Then at me.
“…Are you kidding me right now?” Her voice breaks with disbelief, followed by a slow, stunned laugh.
I grin.
“You should’ve seen your face. You were about to interrogate me like I was on the witness stand.”
Paige sighs with relief, dragging a hand over her face as she exhales.
“I swear I was one second away from calling your mom like, ‘You better come get her.’”
Parker claps her hands. “We got youuu, Mama!”
Paige walks over and scoops Parker up, kissing her cheek with a laugh. “You little actress. I was about to go full hulk mode.”
“I practiced my lines!” Parker beams proudly.
Paige turns to me with a smirk, still holding Parker on her hip.
“You had her rehearsing? Wow. Betrayed by both my girls in the same day.”
I lean into the counter with a grin. “Don’t act like you’re not lowkey impressed.”
“Oh, I’m plotting revenge as we speak.”
We laugh. The tension’s gone now—replaced with that buzz Paige and I always get when we prank each other. Except this time, I can tell something else lingers in her eyes. A little heat. A little challenge.
She lowers Parker down gently. “Alright munchkin, it’s bedtime for real now. Go brush and I’ll read you two stories, okay?”
“Okay!” Parker skips off again.
As soon as she's out of sight, Paige slowly rounds the counter and cages me in between her arms.
“You,” she murmurs, voice a little deeper now. “Are so lucky that was a prank. Because the way I was ready to question your every move this week?”
I swallow, her closeness already doing things to me.
“Forgive me?”
Her lips hover just above mine.
“I dunno…” she teases, brushing her nose against mine. “Might need a little…convincing.”
“Like what?”
Her hand traces my waist slowly, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Wait ‘til Parker’s asleep and find out.”
I grin at the camera.
“Well, y’all, this has been another successful prank—Paige’s blood pressure might’ve gone up, but the views are gonna be worth it.”
Paige tilts her head. “You better hope the comments still got your back when I get my get back.”
“They always do,” I wink.
We blow a kiss to the camera together. Paige smirks at me one last time before flicking off the recording.
---
The red light fades. Paige’s hands don’t.
She leans in closer, eyes gleaming. “You really had Parker lying for you?”
The moment you stepped onto that stage in your blood-red silk and jet-stoned corset, they stopped breathing.
It wasn’t like Paige and Azzi needed to breathe, of course...they were centuries past that point. But watching you twirl under the sultry velvet lights, teasing the edge of your thigh-high stockings with your gloved fingers, they forgot about everything else: the blood, the boredom, the slow decay of time.
You didn’t even look their way as you danced, as if their piercing eyes in the back booth of the club didn’t matter. As if their power, their legacy, their entire cursed eternity couldn’t shake your focus.
That was the moment they knew you had to be theirs.
☽ THE OBSESSION ☾
Azzi was the first to move.
Always quieter, always more patient — she started attending every show. Same seat. Same time. Always a single red rose left backstage with your name scrawled in looping, elegant calligraphy.
Paige? Paige wasn’t so subtle.
She didn’t leave roses. She left messages. A single gold necklace tucked into your purse one night, etched with a symbol you didn’t recognize. A whisper behind your ear after your dance: You’re the most dangerous thing in this room, sweetheart.
You’d turned around, heart racing — and no one was there.
They didn’t try to hide that they were following you. Not really. Not when they’d be leaning against your building’s brick wall when you left the club. Not when you’d catch one of them watching you from across the market square at dusk, dressed in black, eyes glowing just faintly in the moonlight.
Azzi’s smiles were gentle. Paige’s stares were dangerous.
But neither ever crossed the line.
Not until you let them.
☽ WHEN YOU LET THEM IN ☾
“I know you’re watching me,” you whispered one night — after a particularly sensual routine, still flushed from the rush of performance. You were alone in the alley behind the club. “You always are.”
The silence stretched.
Then: “And yet, you don’t run.” Paige’s voice. Low. Velvet-wrapped steel. She stepped out of the shadows.
Behind her, Azzi appeared as if she’d been waiting in the dark for centuries. Her eyes searched your face with something soft. Something eternal.
“I think you like it,” Paige added, stepping closer.
Your heart kicked.
“I think I might,” you whispered.
And that’s when everything changed.
☽ THEIR GIRL ☾
Once you let them in, you never paid for another thing again.
New gowns showed up at your door every week, tailored to perfection — silk, velvet, sheer mesh that made you blush. Your favorite foods, imported wine, fresh fruit, foreign chocolates. Azzi made you a playlist of music from every decade she’d lived through. Paige bought the entire building you lived in — and let you discover that detail only when she casually handed you a key with a smirk.
“You’re not just some fling,” Paige growled one night as she pinned you gently against the wall. “You’re ours. Our queen.”
Azzi kissed your collarbone then, soft as starlight. “We don’t share what we claim,” she murmured.
And gods help anyone who tried.
☽ THE WARNING SIGNS ☾
The town knew. They knew who Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd were.
The immortal kind. The ancient kind. Beautiful and bloody. Their names were never spoken above a whisper. And you — the one they followed, the one they watched — became untouchable.
Most respected the unspoken line.
But not all.
The club’s new manager thought he could corner you backstage. He didn’t get to touch you — Paige had her hand wrapped around his throat before he even reached you. Lifted him off the ground like he was weightless.
Her fangs brushed his jaw.
“I’ve killed gods for less,” she whispered into his ear, voice ice-cold. “What makes you think you’re worth sparing?”
Azzi didn’t say anything. She just looked him in the eyes with a tilt of her head… and he pissed himself before collapsing.
You didn’t ask what they did with him.
You didn’t need to.
☽ IN PRIVATE ☾
Their kisses were everything.
Azzi’s lips were warm, slow — like honey dripping down your throat. Paige? Paige kissed you like she was still starving after a thousand years. She always gripped your waist too tight, always pulled your hair just enough to make your breath hitch.
They loved touching your throat.
Azzi would cradle your jaw, brushing her thumb over your pulse, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the shell of your ear. Paige would graze her teeth down your neck, not enough to break skin — just enough to make your legs shake.
“You don’t even know what you do to us,” Azzi would whisper between kisses, her hand sliding beneath your skirt as you writhed beneath her.
“Oh, she knows,” Paige would growl, from behind, her hands caging you in, pressing kisses down your spine. “Our sweet little temptation.”
You were always sandwiched between them.
Always worshipped.
Always theirs.
☽ BLOODLUST ☾
Sometimes, Paige would let her fangs drag just a little too long over your skin.
Sometimes, Azzi would hold your hips still and just breathe in the scent of your neck, like she was drowning in it.
“You’re sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted,” Paige admitted once, voice rough, kneeling between your legs. “I could sink my teeth in and still never get enough.”
Azzi’s fangs grazed your thigh, her voice softer. “But we won’t. We won’t hurt you.”
And they didn’t. They never broke skin.
But they bit. Slowly. Sensually. Playfully.
You learned to love the pressure. To crave it. Your body would arch into them when their teeth found your pulse point — legs tightening around Paige’s waist, fingers clawing at Azzi’s back as her mouth worked lower.
You learned their hunger. Their restraint.
And how good it felt to be on the edge of danger without falling.
☽ QUEEN OF NIGHT ☾
They dressed you like royalty — draped in black lace, blood-red jewels, thigh-slit gowns with nothing beneath. Whenever you walked through town on their arms, no one dared meet your gaze. You were the vampires chosen one. The center of their undead universe.
You liked the power. You liked them.
But more than that, you loved how they looked at you — like the centuries they’d spent searching for something worth dying for had finally led to you.
“You’re not just ours,” Azzi whispered once as she ran a clawed finger down your bare back, “we’re yours too.”
Paige leaned in from behind, lips brushing your neck. “And we like it that way.”
☽ THE BEDROOM ☾
Some nights were soft.
Azzi would undress you piece by piece, kissing every inch of revealed skin. Paige would just watch, eyes glowing faintly, stroking your thigh until you whimpered.
Other nights?
Paige would throw you on the bed like she couldn’t wait another second. Azzi would pin your wrists while Paige kissed her way down your ribs. They’d tease you for hours — biting softly, tasting you everywhere, never quite giving in.
“You wanna beg, baby?” Paige would murmur into your ear, her breath hot. “We like it when you beg.”
And gods, you did. You begged.
For their touch. For their teeth. For their fangs.
You barely made it through the front door before Paige had you pinned to it.
Her hands were rough, impatient — gripping your thighs and lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around her waist instinctively, your breath catching as her mouth slammed against yours. Hot. Bruising. Hungry.
Azzi was behind you in a second, peeling off your coat, soft lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“You were teasing us on stage tonight,” she whispered, voice silk over fire. “You knew we were watching.”
You gasped as Paige ground against your center through your panties, already soaked. “Is that true, baby?” Paige growled against your neck, her fangs grazing just enough to make your thighs tremble.
“I… maybe,” you whispered, dizzy from the scent of them. “I wanted you to see.”
Paige let out a dark chuckle, low in her throat. “Oh, we saw.”
Azzi kissed down the curve of your shoulder. “Now we get to play.”
They took you to the bedroom — or rather, Paige carried you there, not even bothering to take the stairs slowly. She threw you on the bed like she owned it — like she owned you.
“Clothes off,” Paige ordered, already stripping her shirt over her head, lean muscle rippling. Her eyes glowed gold. “Now.”
Your hands trembled, but you obeyed — pulling your top off, your skirt next, baring yourself to their hungry stares.
Azzi reached you first, crawling onto the bed with the grace of a predator. She leaned down, kissing between your breasts, dragging her tongue teasingly along your skin. Her hand slid between your legs, fingers stroking over your soaked panties.
“Look at you,” she whispered, fingers pressing just enough to make you arch. “So wet for us. So pretty.”
You whimpered as she slid your panties down and lowered her mouth — and then Paige was behind you again, kissing the back of your neck, her fingers gripping your jaw.
“You wanna be good for us, baby?” Paige asked, her voice rough, her teeth dragging along your pulse point.
“Yes—” you gasped, “please…”
Azzi moaned against your heat, tongue dipping between your folds. Her tongue was slow. Expert. Relentless. She held your hips down as you writhed, whimpers falling from your lips like prayer.
Paige leaned in, one hand cupping your breast, the other tilting your face toward hers. She kissed you hard, muffling your cries as Azzi sucked your clit with devastating precision.
“You taste divine,” Azzi purred from between your thighs. “Like sin.”
Paige’s fingers were suddenly sliding in from behind — slow at first, then curling just right. You screamed into her kiss, thighs trembling, back arching off the bed.
They took you apart like a ritual. Azzi’s mouth never left your pussy, her lips glossy, her tongue worshiping you. Paige’s fingers were deep and ruthless, coaxing a second orgasm before the first even faded.
“Paige—Azzi—I—fuck—”
You came undone with a cry, body shuddering as Paige bit down gently on your neck — not enough to pierce, just enough to leave a mark. Her fangs grazed your skin like a promise.
“Good girl,” Paige growled, licking the spot she bit, her voice soaked in possessive pride.
Azzi climbed up to kiss you — slow, deep, her lips tasting of you. Her thighs straddled yours, and you felt her heat against your stomach.
“You want more?” Azzi asked softly, brushing your hair back as Paige moved behind you again.
Your answer was a breathless nod.
“Then let us ruin you,” Paige whispered, and they did — again, and again, until you forgot your name and remembered only theirs.
☽ ETERNITY ☾
You never asked what they planned for the future.
But one night, as you lay tangled between them, Paige pressed a cold ring to your finger — carved in ancient symbols you couldn’t read.
Azzi kissed the back of your hand.
“When the time is right,” she whispered, “we’ll ask you to stay forever.”
Paige added, “But only if you want it.”
You didn’t answer right away.
But the way your lips found Azzi’s throat, the way your nails dragged down Paige’s chest, the way you moaned for them when their teeth grazed your skin again and again…
(Genre: Slow burn, spicy, emotional, romantic, power dynamics, secret affair)
Paige is the youngest, hottest, most driven President the nation’s seen. You’re the assistant who swore you wouldn’t fall for her. You were dead wrong.
_________________________________________
1. The Slow Burn
Headcanons:
Paige Bueckers wasn’t supposed to be soft. At least not in the office. But she always looked at you like she was memorizing your face.
The attraction was quiet at first...subtle glances over her laptop, soft chuckles at your witty comebacks, a hand brushing your lower back to guide you out of crowded meetings.
You caught her looking at you too long during a cabinet meeting once. She never denied it.
She started requesting you for every trip, every closed-door meeting. “Only trust you,” she’d say, but her voice always held something more.
You started dressing just a little sharper, lipstick just a little bolder. You weren’t trying to seduce the President. That would be reckless. And thrilling.
♡♡♡: You handed her the finalized press statement, fingers brushing as you placed it on her desk. Paige didn’t move. Her icy blue eyes stayed locked on yours.
“You know I notice everything you do, right?” she said softly, voice laced with meaning.
Your breath hitched. “I just do my job, Miss President.”
Paige tilted her head, a slow smirk blooming. “That’s what makes it so dangerous.”
2. The First Kiss in the Oval Office
Headcanons:
It happened late. The office was empty. You’d just argued over her pushing herself too hard, she’d snapped, then softened instantly.
You were standing too close. Heated. Frustrated. Paige leaned in like it was instinct.
Her hand was on your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like she’d wanted to do it for months.
The kiss was soft, desperate, and deepened quickly. Papers fell. You ended up on her desk. Buttons undone.
She stopped it...eventually. Barely. “Not like this,” she murmured, forehead against yours. “You deserve more than a late-night Oval Office scandal… but God, you taste so good.”
♡♡♡: “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” Paige whispered, hands trembling where they gripped your hips.
You leaned in, lips brushing hers. “You’re the most powerful woman in the world. You really think I’m the one in control?”
3. Sneaking Around
Headcanons:
You both swore it would only be once. That was a lie.
Paige started pulling you into private rooms: coat closets, underground tunnels, even the press storage hallway.
She couldn’t keep her hands off you. She’d press a kiss to the back of your neck while pretending to hand you papers in public.
At cabinet meetings, her foot would nudge yours under the table. Her voice would drop an octave when she said your name.
She was obsessed with you in secret: sneaking selfies you didn’t know she took, reading your calendar just to see when she could “bump into you.”
♡♡♡: You were organizing briefing notes when you felt her behind you. Her hands slid slowly up your waist, lips finding the base of your neck.
“We have six minutes before the press arrives,” she murmured, spinning you around. “Tell me that’s enough time.”
Your lips met like fire meeting gasoline.
4. Behind Closed Doors
Headcanons:
Paige was soft, but dominant. Always in control—but for your pleasure.
She’d whisper “mine” against your skin, leave love bites where no one could see, then kiss them like an apology.
She liked making you beg with just her voice. “You want me, pretty? Say it.”
Office chairs, Air Force One bathrooms, and even her private dressing room saw things no security camera could ever show.
She always kissed you after. Tucked your blouse back in. Straightened your necklace. “Still the most professional assistant I’ve ever had,” she’d tease.
♡♡♡: “Paige,” you moaned as her hands gripped your thighs.
She looked up at you from between your legs, eyes dark. “What did I say about calling me that in here?”
“…Madam President,” you corrected breathlessly.
“Good girl.”
5. The Leak
Headcanons:
A photo leaked: Paige’s hand slipping around your waist as you exited her car.
News outlets ran wild with it. “Scandal in the White House: Is the President Sleeping with Her Assistant?”
You tried to quit, crying in her office while she sat silently in disbelief.
Paige got up, took your hands, and kissed them one by one.
“You think I’d let the only person who makes me feel human walk away over gossip?”
She kissed you—slowly, softly. Then pulled you into her lap, stroking your back until your breathing calmed.
“Let them talk. I’m not hiding you anymore.”
♡♡♡: “I’m ruining your career,” you whispered, voice shaking.
Paige cupped your face. “No. You’re reminding me why I fight. And I’d rather lose every voter than lose you.”
6. Going Public
Headcanons:
The next press conference, Paige walked in with you at her side. No hiding.
When asked, she said, “Yes. She’s the love of my life. That’s all I’ll say about it.”
Her approval rating soared. The nation loved “Wifeygate.”
You stopped sneaking around. Now she held your hand at events, brushed your cheek at fundraisers, and kissed you in the Rose Garden like you were royalty.
You moved into the White House. She’d bring you coffee in bed, whisper “Good morning, pretty,” before kissing your shoulder.
She still pulled you into closets...but now just to make you blush.
♡♡♡: At a gala, a senator leaned in too close. Paige stepped between you, hand firm on your lower back.
“She’s taken,” she said with a sharp smile. “And she belongs to me.”
7. Everyday Life
Headcanons:
She left post-it notes on your mirror: “Take it easy today, pretty.” / “Dinner after you’re done being the hottest assistant alive?”
She called you “mama” whenever you were on the phone with her staff. “Mama’s in charge now,” she’d smirk.
You helped her rehearse speeches in bed. She'd get distracted halfway through, kissing your thigh like it was part of the address.
Every time she introduced you, she used a different pet name. “My wifey,” “My baby,” “My favorite diplomat.”
She never stopped looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in a room full of power.
♡♡♡: You were fixing her tie before a debate when she whispered, “You know, if I win tonight… I get to take you back to our room and thank you properly.”
You smiled. “And if you lose?”
She smirked. “Then I’ll just have to beg.”
8. A Soft Night
The moonlight lit the White House balcony as Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her chest, her hands warm against your stomach.
“Think the world’s still mad at us?” you asked.
Paige kissed your temple. “Let them be. I got what I really wanted.”
You turned to face her, your fingers resting over her heart. “What’s that, Madam President?”
She smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You. Always you.”
💙 Paige Bueckers x Female Teammate!Reader Headcanons
(ft. UConn Team Shenanigans)
(Not proofread)
🥺 Protective Paige Mode™
Paige is usually calm and goofy, but the second someone fouls you too hard or gets in your face during practice or a game?
> "Back off, that’s my girl."
She’ll walk up slowly, real chill, and stare until the message is received.
You once got shoved hard going for a layup and Paige didn't even let the ref finish their call before she was checking if you were okay.
> "You good? Need me to handle her?"
Teammates joke that when you fall, Paige gets to you before the trainers.
---
📱 TikTok Addict x TikTok Hater
You are obsessed with TikTok. Paige? Not so much.
But she somehow ends up in all your videos... reluctantly.
You’ll catch her coming out the locker room and be like,
> “Okay babe do this dance with me, just the first part.”
Paige: “Baby I got on slides and no rhythm, don’t do this to me.”
One time you did a TikTok where she had to lip sync Megan Thee Stallion and she gave up halfway through and said:
> “Nah I can’t be sexy on camera like that, mama, my mom gon’ see this.”
Aaliyah, Nika, and Ice Brady are your hype squad. They love watching Paige get roped in.
> Aaliyah: "PAIGE did you just do the body roll?? Who ARE you??"
Paige: "I was held at gun point."
---
💘 Nickname Central
Paige lives off the nicknames. You never hear her say your government name unless it’s something serious.
> "Pass me the water, pretty."
"Yo babe, you left your slides in my locker again."
"You seen my charger, mama? You always take mine."
She’ll casually call you “baby” in front of the team and then act confused when they’re teasing.
> Nika: “Oop, baby??”
Paige: “What? I got a baby. Y’all just mad.”
---
🏀 Practice & Locker Room Moments
During scrimmages, Paige will purposely switch teams if you’re dominating too much just to guard you.
> "Nah nah, I got her. No one else touch her. This is personal now."
You once smacked her butt after hitting a shot on her and she dramatically flopped like she was fouled, yelling:
> “Ref! Domestic!”
Paige leaves little notes in your locker on game days like:
> “Go off, pretty. I got rebound duty today if you start missing.”
---
🛋 Lazy Days and Social Media Chaos
Y’all do “get ready with me” TikToks before team events. Paige is in the background struggling to pick an outfit while yelling:
> “Babe, do I wear the hoodie or the other hoodie?”
You: “Neither. You’re wearing the sweater I picked.”
If you post a photo where she thinks you look too good, she’s in the comments:
> “Delete this rn before they start in the comments.”
And then texts: “You tryna make me fight air?? 😤”
---
💤 Post-Game Snuggles
After games, Paige likes to lie on your chest while you scroll on your phone. She pretends she hates the TikToks but lowkey enjoys watching you laugh.
> “You’re cute when you laugh, baby. Don’t change the vid yet.”
---
🏀 Jealous Paige at Practice
The gym echoed with sneakers squeaking and laughter as practice scrimmage started heating up. You’d been matched up against Jaylin, one of the newer players on the team, and let’s just say… she was being a little too friendly.
You hit a nice step-back three right in her face, and Jaylin smiled, holding her hands up.
“Okayyy, I see you,” she said, tapping your waist lightly. “We got a shooter on our hands.”
You laughed, brushing it off, not noticing the way Paige paused mid-dribble on the other side of the court.
She blinked. Once. Twice.
“Yo Nika,” she said slowly, still watching Jaylin, “Switch with me real quick.”
“Why?”
“I’ma guard Y/N.”
“But I’m—”
“Nika.”
“…Got it.”
You raised an eyebrow as Paige jogged over, sliding in front of you with that calm-but-lowkey-murderous expression she gets when she’s annoyed.
“Hi babe,” you grinned, dribbling toward her.
“Hey pretty,” she said, stealing the ball clean. “You flirtin’ today or just hoopin’?”
You snorted. “What?”
“Just wondering,” Paige replied, way too casually, passing the ball behind her back to Aaliyah. “You and Jaylin got some chemistry I ain’t know about?”
You stepped closer, grinning. “Ohhh, is someone jealous?”
“Jealous?” she tilted her head with a smirk. “Nah, I just think people need to keep their hands to themselves unless they paying rent.”
Aaliyah hollered from the sideline.
“NOT THE RENT LINE.”
Jaylin raised her hands. “My bad, Bueckers! I was just playin’.”
