♫ ▷ track 4: wicked games | p.b
⤷ exes · drugs · makeup sex
✩ fem!reader · nsfw 18+
you didn’t expect the knock. or the second. but the third? that one shook the doorframe, it was fast, angry, and familiar.
“open the fuckin’ door,” her voice came next, muffled but sharp.
you froze, your heart jumping, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders like it could keep her out. but your feet were already moving, like they knew something your head hadn’t caught up to yet.
when you opened it, paige was standing there, hoodie pulled over her head, jaw clenched, eyes already rimmed red. from the game. from the weed. from crying. maybe all of it.
she didn’t wait. just shoved past you, straight into the apartment as if she never left.
“welcome in,” you muttered under your breath, shutting the door behind her.
“don’t start with me,” she snapped, already pacing your living room like she didn’t just bang your door down like it owed her money. “not tonight.”
you didn’t say anything. just watched her, still wrapped in your blanket like a shield, wondering how long she was gonna pretend this wasn’t about you.
after a second, her voice cracked.
“we should’ve won.”
“i know.” you had been sitting on the couch, watching her play. she moved like water when she was in her flow state, but watching her lose awakened something in you that you thought you forgot about.
“i fuckin..” she stopped herself. closed her eyes. exhaled sharp. “i shouldn’t be here.”
her hands were shaking now. just barely. but you noticed.
“you want me to roll?” you asked gently, like it was any other night that she would come over post-game.
she nodded, the motion barely there. “please.”
you moved toward the kitchen, pulled out the jar you shouldn’t still keep stocked “just in case,” and grabbed the tray.
by the time you sat on the couch, she was already there. sitting in the same spot she used to, hoodie off, face in her hands.
you rolled in silence. the kind of quiet that used to mean comfort, not distance. when you sparked it, the flame caught slow. the smoke curled out warm, you passed it to her. she took it like it was air. leaned her head back, blew out slow.
“this doesn’t fix anything,” you muttered, same tone as always.
“wasn’t tryna fix it,” she said softly. she glanced over at you, eyes heavy, lashes low.
“missed you,” she started, so low it barely made it to your ears.
you blinked. the blunt hovered between you. still giving smoke, letting the familiar aroma fill the air.
“don’t say that,” you said, not harsh but not soft either.
“why not?” she shot back, eyes on you now. too open. too raw.
“cus you only miss me when you lose.”
once the words hit her, paige sat up straighter. the way her jaw clenched told you she hated that you were somewhat right. she hated it even more that you said it out loud.
“that’s not true.”
“isn’t it?” you replied, dragging the blunt once more before setting it on the edge of the rolling tray. “you ghost me for weeks, then show up when you’re high and hurting. same hoodie, same bullshit, same look in your eyes like i’m the only thing in the world that makes sense-”
“you are,” she snapped.
your breath caught. her voice cracked again on the last word.
“you are,” she echoed, lower this time. “that’s the fuckin’ problem.”
the silence that followed was thick. not with comfort, but with familiarity. you stood up, arms crossed. “then why’d you walk away?”
she stood too.
“don’t do that,” she said, stepping closer. “don’t make it sound easy like that.”
“you made it easy. you didn’t fight. you stopped fighting for us a long time ago.”
“i fight every damn day,” she growled, stepping even closer. “on the court, off it. in my own fuckin’ head. you wanna know how it feels to give everything and still lose? to know you could be the best and it’s still not enough?”
“i do know,” you said, eyes narrowing. “because i loved you.”
she flinched, and for a second neither of you said anything. the blunt sat burning quietly between you, its smoke curling up like a ghost of every night you’d spent tangled on this same couch.
“i came here,” paige whispered. “because i didn’t know where else to go.”
“you came here,” you echoed, “because i let you.”
the moment cracked right down the middle. she reached for your wrist, not rough, but not gentle. just enough pressure to make your breath catch. she pulled you forward until you were chest to chest, nose to nose. close enough to feel her body heat transfer to yours.
“say something,” she breathed.
“what do you want me to say?”
“that you still want me,” she whispered. “that you still feel it too.”
you swallowed hard. her breath fanned your lips. her eyes searched yours like she was afraid of what she’d find. or worse, what she wouldn’t.
“i hate how easy this still feels,” you muttered, your voice shaky. “i hate how you still fit.” paige let out a bitter laugh, but it sounded more like a whimper of sadness.
“i hate how i still see you in every win. and feel you in every fuckin’ loss.”
that made your chest ache in a different kind of way. like grief. like mourning something you never got to finish. you didn’t realize how close your lips were until hers brushed yours. not quite a kiss, just a touch. a tremor. like asking a question in a language only the two of you knew.
“make me forget,” she murmured, barely audible. “just for a second.”
the kiss wasn’t sweet. it was broken, angry, messy. all teeth and breath and shaking hands. like neither of you knew how to be soft with each other anymore, but you still tried anyway.
her hands gripped at your waist. yours tangled in her blonde hair. she backed you into the couch like she’d done a thousand times before, like muscle memory.
and when she sank down with you, dragging the blanket off your shoulders and tossing it aside, you knew this wasn’t just about comfort anymore. it was about reminding you, reclaiming you, and the desire to ruin you.
“take this off,” she rasped, tugging at your shirt like it offended her. you didn’t argue, your skin was burning under her touch already, and her hands moved like she owned you. she stripped you down, slow but rough, her breath catching the moment she saw you again.
“fuck,” she muttered, almost to herself. “you’re still-”
“don’t say it,” you interrupted, but your voice cracked, because part of you needed to hear it.
“mine,” she didn’t even say it, she growled it, like the word had been stuck in her throat for weeks. “you’re fuckin’ mine.”
her hands gripped your thighs as she pushed them apart, her mouth finding your neck, your collarbone, your chest, kissing like she was mad at you. like she was mad at herself for not being here sooner.
you arched under her, breath shaky, your fingers already tangled in the fabric of her hoodie.
“take it off,” you whined. “wanna see you.”
she pulled it over her head in one rough motion, hair a mess, jaw clenched. her eyes were wild with emotion. her bra followed fast, and suddenly it was skin against skin. her hands gripped your hips, holding you down.
“nobody touches you like i do,” she murmured, dragging her fingers down to your core, slow and deliberate. “nobody fucks you like this. say it.”
you whimpered, already soaked, already trembling. “no one.”
“say my name.”
“paige,”
“again.”
“paige, fuck,”
she kissed you hard, fingers sliding between your folds like she’d been dreaming about it since the day she left. her thumb pressed circles against your clit, rough and purposeful.
“you feel that?” she breathed, voice shaking. “how wet you are for me? don’t pretend like you don’t still need me.”
you moaned into her mouth, bucking against her hand. her lips were everywhere. from your jaw, to your shoulder, to your chest, they were desperate, open mouthed, teeth grazing just enough to leave a mark.
“you miss me?” she asked, rubbing faster now, two fingers teasing at your entrance but not giving in. “miss this? miss us?”
you nodded, breathless, head falling back.
“i wanna hear it.”
“i missed you,” you gasped like a fish out of water. “missed everything- please, just need it-”
her slender fingers slipped inside you, slow but deep, and you swore the air left your lungs.
“there you go,” she whispered, thrusting steady, curling her fingers just right at the spot she knew all too well. “there’s my girl.”
your body tightened around her fingers, and she felt it. she felt the way your breath hitched, your hips started to stutter, your walls clenched like they didn’t want to let her go.
“that’s it,” she reassured you, kissing just beneath your ear. “you’re close, i can feel it.”
her fingers didn’t stop. they moved faster, curling with every thrust, brushing that one spot inside you that made your back arch off the couch. her thumb worked tight, steady circles over your clit, sending sparks down your spine.
“fuck, paige,” your voice broke, half whimper, half plea. your legs trembled, thighs squeezing around her wrist. you were unraveling in her hands, heat blooming low and sharp in your belly.
“cum for me,” she whispered, watching your face like it was the only thing in the room. “i want it. right here. let me have it.”
she didn’t have to say much before you gave in. the orgasm crashed through you like a tide. it was a full body, raw and overwhelming orgasm. your mouth fell open in a silent cry, head tipping back as your entire body pulsed around her fingers. your stomach flexed, your toes curled, your hands fisted the fabric beneath you like you were afraid you’d float away.
she kept moving through it, soft but sure, working you down with slow, grounding thrusts and soothing murmurs.
“theres my girl,” she whispered, kissing your temple as your body continued to shake against her. “you did so good for me.”
you gasped softly as the aftershocks rolled through you, every touch feeling too much and not enough. she pulled her hand back gently, fingers slick, and put them in her mouth to taste you before tucking your spent body against her chest.
you were still catching your breath. heart racing. thighs twitching with the ghost of it. but she just held you like nothing else mattered.
and just for now, it didn’t.
