pairing paige bueckers x fem!reader
description it’s your best friend adriana’s 24th birthday party in dallas, and of course you’re there by her side to celebrate. historically, when you and adriana party, the both of you go all out, so why would this situation be any different? tonight, you get plastered as usual. adriana’s boyfriend is there with her so you know she’ll get home okay, but she doesn’t trust uber. adriana asks paige to drive you home— she barely drank. paige doesn’t know you well, but being the saint she is, paige agrees to chauffeur you. when the both of you arrive at your house, you’ve sobered up quite a bit and you know exactly what you want.
includes 18+ smut, drunken sex, drinking (obvi), sex with a stranger, breast play, cunnilingus, paige wearing her strap outside, rough sex, dirty talk, paige being a little protective and nurturing, partying, strippers, i wrote paige sucking toes, you’re kinda a brat, teasing, begging, overstim, dacryphilia,
a/n btw i've never been to a big club, so like i hope this isn't too inaccurate i'm from a small town and all we have is bars!! also i apologize for my inconsistent layouts 🙁 just trying to find my style. this is somewhat based on "house tour" by sabrina carpenter. i’m actually like highkey worried this is TOO long
Since you met Adriana in your freshman year of college, the both of you have been attached at the hip. You’ve been together through failed exams, breakups, sleeping through alarms, and the best days ever. The both of you were so close to the point that you could bring one another home for family gatherings around the holidays.
This year there was another holiday you’d be spending together, but it wasn’t the kind you’d be spending with family.
December 13th is Adriana’s 24th birthday, which is a huge deal already and she swears it’d be even bigger if it were her golden birthday. Adri says her 13th birthday didn’t exactly “count” given that she was thirteen and didn’t know what Casamigos or Kinky shooters were yet.
This year, she wanted to go up. You didn’t entirely understand why she picked her 24th birthday to do this, but as her best friend you were supportive. Meaning: you helped her decide on a venue, outfit, hairstyle, makeup, the whole nine yards. The both of you had the mindset of “go big or go home.”
After all, you’d never turn down the opportunity to celebrate your best friend. You knew she had a long list of invitees including athletes, musicians, actors— anyone in the public eye that Adriana thought would be fun to party with.
You knew ahead of time that Dallas had a phenomenal clubbing scene and that a venue wouldn’t be hard to find. Ultimately, Adriana decided on Cobalt. You’d never been to this particular club before, but you also weren’t opposed. There was good food, good music, seating, and strippers (your favorite).
Adriana’s party is set to begin at 11:00 P.M. It’s 9:30 and the both of you are pre-gaming at your house while you get ready together. There’s music playing from your Bose speaker atop your dresser and the vibe is right. The playlist alone is transferring confidence to you. You sway along to it though you’re standing still as you beat your face in the bathroom.
You feel undeniably sexy in a dress that you know is way too short and way too tight by every societal standard you’ve heard whispered in passing, but you can’t say you care because you feel damn good. The dress hugs your body like it was made with you in mind, clinging to every inch of your curves. It catches the light in a way that makes you look like you’re glowing instead of standing underneath your ceiling fan.
There’s a candle lit that smells that nightlife vomited in your bedroom and the flame flickers faintly. Empty shot glasses are lined up like little trophies near the edge of your desk. There’s a half open bottle next to it accompanied by some cranberry juice.
You adjust your dress for a third time even if you know it won’t get any longer. You tilt your head, observing your frame at every angle. There’s a buzz you feel that’s not even from the alcohol.
You’re brought out of your thoughts by Adri calling your name, asking for your help with curling her hair. Her voice cuts through the base of the music. “Can you come here for a second? Me and this iron are about to fight and I’m going to lose.”
You laugh to yourself and drop your beauty blender on the counter top. You cross the threshold to the bedroom and are instantly released from the stuffiness of the bathroom, still warm with steam from your previous shower.
Adri’s waiting for you with a towel around her shoulders, hair half clipped-up and half falling down her back in long, dark waves.
The iron hums in her hand and she looks at you with that pitiful look in her eyes, asking for help wordlessly. “I swear, my arms are tired and I’m not even halfway done.”
You chuckle and take the iron from her. You hold your hand up to it just to check the heat. She sits at your vanity. You section through her hair like tradition, and the silky strands nearly slip through your fingers.
You begin to curl while Adri rambles. “I invited a few WNBA players.”
Humming, you respond. “Who? Anybody but Sophie Cunnigham, hopefully.”
Adri snorts and her reflection in the mirror rolls her eyes, “yeah, duh. A few of the Wings players. I’m really only close with their star rookie, but I thought "the more the merrier,” y’know?”
That sounds exactly like Adriana. She’d always been a socialite and extremely warm and welcoming which made her an excellent sports reporter. That’s part of the reason why she had the connections she did. She was charismatic and could get anyone to talk to her and feel comfortable. Honestly, you kinda think that if she wasn’t as extroverted as she was, the both of you wouldn’t be so close. It was like in college she decided she wanted to be friends with you and then never quit on the idea.
You’re not shy, but half as bold as Adri is even when sober. She could walk in knowing nobody and leave with a list of phone numbers.
You twist another curl free and let it fall against her shoulder, watching it bounce in the mirror.
“Maybe you’ll meet someone,” she tags on.
Instantaneously, you kiss your teeth. “Sure.”
Adri catches the tone immediately and raises her eyebrows. Her lips tug into a half-smile and you know she’s about to poke the bear.
You clamp the iron around another section, the quiet hiss filling the space for a second before you answer. “Who in their right mind goes looking for love in the club? I’m not stupid, Adri.”
“You say that, but every time we go out, someone tries to talk to you, and you just ignore them.” She counters. “You pretend you don’t notice.”
“I don’t pretend.” That’s a lie.
“Mmhmm,” she hums. Adri leans back a little and nudges your hip with her shoulder. “You’re a lost cause.
You laugh under your breath, but that’s not the only thing there. You know there’s truth in what Adriana is saying. The mirror catches your eyes for a split second, and you drop them before Adri can read them.
You let the curl drop, fingers lightly shaping as it cools. “It’s not that I don't want to meet someone,” you admit, quieter now. “I just don’t think it’s going to happen because some random night decided to be magical.”
Adri’s expression shifts, just a touch—less teasing, more thoughtful. “Sometimes random nights are exactly when things happen.”
You shrug, reaching for the next section of hair. “Or sometimes they’re just… nights.”
There’s a heavy silence between the two of you and you want to pinch yourself. It’s your best friend’s birthday and you’re being a Debby Downer.
Quickly, you lighten up your tone. “Besides, I just don’t have time for that. You know I’m trying to be the next Naomi Campbell.”
Adri bursts out laughing, the sound bright and immediate, like you flipped a switch. “Oh, please.”
“I’m serious,” you insist, lifting your chin like you’re already walking a runway. “I’ve got a schedule. Castings, fittings, dramatic slow-motion exits from rooms. Romance doesn’t fit into my brand.”
She adjusts slightly on the chair and eyes you up and down in the mirror. “I mean,” she says, dragging out the words, “you already have the legs for it.”
You giggle, nearly dropping the curling iron.
After helping Adri zip up the back of her dress and giving yourself a once over in the mirror, the both of you are ready to leave. You look like someone straight out of a music video and sent to bless reality with fantasy.
Her boyfriend, Ismael, is the DD for the night and the both of you secluded him to the living room for the entire time that the both of you got ready. He scrolled dutifully through his phone while waiting for the two of you. You can hear the low murmur of the TV through the door, some late-night sports recap that he’s half-watching.
Adriana swings your bedroom door open for her grand entrance.
“We’re done!” She announces, already halfway down the hall.
She struts over to Ismael and practically launches her at him, arms wrapping around his neck as he laughs and catches her without missing a beat. Her heels lift off of the floor for a second as she clings to him, dress riding up a touch in the process.
“Miss me?” She asks, slightly too loud.
“It’s been, like. forty minutes,” he says, grinning anyway.
You lean against the doorframe, watching them with an amused smile. It's safe to say the alcohol has already started to hit her—she’s all over him, swaying slightly where she stands, forehead pressed to his as she talks animatedly about how “this is going to be the best birthday ever.”
Ismael glances at you over her shoulder, eyes saying help me even though he’s clearly enjoying every second of it.
“You good to drive?” you ask, grabbing your jacket off the hook.
“Yeah,” he laughs. “I signed up for this. You have to let a baddie be a baddie.”
Adri finally pulls back just enough to point at you dramatically. "Don't let her fool you. She's the wild one tonight.”
You snort, stepping closer. “In your dreams.”
The three of you head out together, the front door clicking shut behind you as the night wraps around your shoulders.
You slide into the back, the seat cool against your legs as you shut the door. The bass from whatever Adri queues up immediately fills the car, low and thumping, making the windows vibrate just a little. Ismael pulls away from the curb, headlights cutting through the quiet street as houses blur past in soft, dark shapes.
The car rolls to a stop outside the club, bass already bleeding through the walls and into the sidewalk like a second heartbeat. Neon signage hums overhead, casting everything in pinks and blues that make the night feel unreal, like you’ve stepped into a scene instead of a place.
You glance down at the mini Rolex on your wrist—11:15. fifteen minutes late. at least you’re fashionably late.
Ismael hops out first, jogs around the car, and opens Adri’s door with a little bow that makes her laugh as she takes his hand and steps out. You slide out of the back, heels clicking against the pavement, the cool night air brushing over bare skin and sending a small shiver up your spine.
Your dress has ridden up again during the drive, clinging high on your thighs. You tug at it out of habit, then stop. This time, you let it settle exactly where it wants to be.
Adri immediately finds your side, arm looping through yours like it belongs there, and starts dragging you toward the entrance before you can even take in the crowd. The line is already a mess of glittering outfits, cigarette smoke, and laughter, people leaning into each other under the glow of the marquee.
The bouncers spot her before you’re even close.
“Birthday girl!” one of them calls out, grinning wide. “Happy birthday, Adri.”
She beams, soaking it up, blowing them a kiss like she’s walking a red carpet instead of stepping up to a velvet rope. “Thank you, thank you. Love you guys.”
Their eyes flick to you, quick but curious, and one of them nods in recognition. “Good to see you again.”
Adri squeezes your arm triumphantly as they lift the rope and wave you both through. The door swings open, and a wall of sound and light crashes over you—strobe flashes, bodies moving in sync, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and anticipation.
You and Adri are met by a wall of sound the second you step fully inside—screams of celebration cutting through the music, hands already reaching for her, voices overlapping.
“Happy birthday, Adriana!"
She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she’s overwhelmed, then immediately starts laughing, spinning in place as people swarm her. Hugs come from every direction, kisses to her cheeks, someone shoving a drink into her hand before she can even process what’s happening.
You hang back just half a step, letting the moment belong to her, watching her glow under the flashing lights. The club is a blur of movement. The bass vibrates up through the floor and into your legs.
“This is insane,” Adri yells over her shoulder to you, eyes bright, hair already starting to frizz at the edges from the heat of the crowd. She grabs your wrist and pulls you back into her orbit. “See? Best birthday ever.”
Your eyes settle on the strippers, each one a study in allure. One of them spins low on a polished pole, her back arched, muscles taut as she twists, long curly hair fanning out like a shadowy halo. The sequins on her outfit catch the strobe lights, glittering with every sharp movement.
Another hooks a leg over the pole, flipping upside down effortlessly, toes pointed, abs flexing with precision. Her heels scrape the pole just enough to make the small metallic clink audible over the music. Her neon outfit glows under the UV lights, bright pink against her skin, almost blinding in its intensity.
On the other side, a third dancer moves slower, more fluid, swaying her hips. Her hair is platinum blonde, tumbling down past her shoulders, and she leans back against the pole, head thrown, giving the crowd a smile that’s equal parts tease and command.
The sensuality is hypnotic, and you can’t help but watch a moment longer than you thought you would.
You clear your throat as Adri pulls you in deeper. Ismael lingers for both of your safety. Adri’s waving at people left and right, accepting hugs, and directing gifts to a table on the north wall of Cobalt.
At this moment, all you can think is: you’re still too sober.
She freezes mid-laugh, head tilting toward you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “The bar?” She echoes, clearly amused, like the idea of stopping for a second is laughable.
“Yes, the bar!” you insist, tugging gently on her arm. “I need a drink.”
She lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes in that exaggerated way that somehow still looks playful. “Fine,” she concedes, looping her arm through yours again.
You and Adri finally shoulder through the crowd toward the bar, elbows brushing strangers, heels clicking against the sticky floor, and just as you think you might finally get a drink, she stops dead in her tracks.
“Oh my God—Paige Bueckers!” Adri gasps, eyes lighting up like a kid who just spotted their favorite celebrity in the wild. She's practically vibrating with excitement, dragging you forward before you can even brace yourself.
“Oh! You have to meet her!” Adri announces, practically dragging you along, tugging you toward Paige with all the subtlety of a fire alarm. You catch a glimpse of Paige, relaxed and smiling, effortlessly aware of the energy around her, and immediately feel your irritation flare.
Paige’s wearing a red and white sweater cut in the style of a muscle tee, showing off her muscles. You feel your mouth dry up at the sight. Her hair is curled lightly and a pair of tan pants rest on her hips. She’s dressed in the perfect mix of masculine and feminine and her cologne wafts in front of your face. She’s tall and rocks confidence like a cloak of armor so easily.
Adri is too drunk, too excited, to notice your expression. she thrusts your hand toward Paige. “This is my best friend—she’s amazing, you’ll love her!”
You plaster on a polite smile, but Paige catches the tiny edge in your eyes and can’t help but chuckle softly to herself. It's subtle, almost hidden behind a quick glance, but it makes you feel instantly smaller.
Paige leans in to give Adri a side hug, perfectly casual. “Happy birthday, Adri,” she says, her voice smooth, warm, and easy. Then she daps up Ismael with one hand, acknowledging him with that effortless confidence she has.
Paige’s piercing blue eyes never leave yours as their hands meet. You’re caught off guard, but also refuse to back down, so you hold eye contact. Her head is tilted and catches the strobe lights. She looks down at you with a slight smirk, her bottom lip caught between your teeth.
You then hold your hand out and introduce yourself.
She grips your hand firmly, “Paige.”
There’s a flash of amusement in her eye before she tilts her head back to glance at Adri. “Don’t party too hard, Adri.”
Adri freezes mid-laugh, glancing over her shoulder, clearly caught off guard by the tone. “Oh, I know how to pace myself,” she says, grinning, trying to match Paige's cool composure but failing to hide the excitement that’s still bubbling through her.
You stand slightly to the side, hand still in Paige's, watching the subtle interplay.
Finally, you pull your hand away from hers, letting your nails graze Paige’s palm, sending shocks up her spine.
Adri, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering in that small exchange, continues chatting, eyes flicking rapidly between you and Paige. “you know my bestie, though, right?” she says, voice bubbly, oblivious to the undercurrent.
Paige nods, eyes narrowing. “I’ve seen her on an Instagram story or two of yours.” She nods like she’s filing that bit of information away.
Adri claps her hands together, delighted. “See? I told you! She's cool. Totally cool.”
You shift, still looking Paige over.
“You should buy her a drink!” Adri chimes, nudging Paige.
Your face drops, a mix of disbelief and panic, “no, no, no, she doesn’t need to do that. I can buy for myself.” Your pulse quickens with the feeling of being put on the spot.
Paige chuckles softly, that smirk tugging at her lips again, clearly amused by your reaction. “I’m not opposed to a drink,” she says smoothly, eyes flicking back to yours for just a second longer.
You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.” Your eyes fall to the ground. Suddenly everything else is more interesting.
Paige nods, letting your denial roll off her shoulders. “It’s your night Adri— live it up!” Her voice is light and playful. She glances briefly at you before squeezing Adri’s shoulder and diving into the crowd.
You watch her leave as Adri is pulled into the embrace of more people and begin your trek toward the bar alone.
You’ve had 3 drinks now and you’re feeling it.
The bass thumps through your chest in a steady rhythm that matches the quickening pulse in your veins, your skin prickling with warmth and energy.
Your movements are looser now, less precise—heels clicking a little less sharply, shoulders dropping, a small sway in your hips as you navigate through the crowd.
You and Adri are nearly falling all over one another when the clock strikes midnight and it’s time to sing Happy Birthday and cut the huge cake that she had catered.
It’s a showstopper—three tiers, dripping in glossy chocolate ganache, with glittering candles scattered across the top like tiny stars. The crowd is buzzing, people pressing in for photos, their phones capturing the moment.
Everyone’s gathered around the cake and you just so happen to notice Paige standing directly across from you. Your eyes catch again. She’s standing next to JJ— another Wings player you’d been introduced to.
“Everyone, sing!” Adri shouts over the crowd, voice cracking with excitement. The room erupts, voices overlapping in harmony. You lift your glass, watching as Paige does the same and gives a slight nod.
Adri clutches the knife and digs in, exposing the many layers of the cake. She cuts her own slice and you dip your finger into the icing before swiping it against her nose.
“Hey!” She squeals before getting you back.
By 2:00, the both of you are out of it and long gone. You’re stumbling on air. Everything feels fuzzy and weird.
Adri and Ismael are clearly busy and have been grinding in the corner for the last half hour.
You grimace and keep your head turned to avoid looking.
The club’s started to clear out and the hype is dying down. You’ve taken your last sip and alcohol and the staff is getting ready to clean up.
You sink into a nearby barstool to collect yourself. The air is warm, sticky, scented with perfume, spilled liquor, and faint chocolate from the cake earlier. You take a deep, unsteady breath.
Your head rests against the counter as your eyes flicker.
Adri stumbles over with Ismael at her side. She’s extremely loud in your ear, though she thinks she’s quiet. “Ismael and I want to go back to his place,” she says to you.
You glance up at her, urging her to continue.
“And well… you don’t want to be around for that. But, I can have Paige drop you off at home. I trust her,” Adri affirms.
You blink at her, half amused, half exasperated, trying to process the rapid-fire logic of your best friend.
“You’re leaving me with her?” You ask, voice a little shaky—not entirely from the drinks.
Adri throws an arm around your shoulders, leaning into you. “Yes! She's perfect. competent. trustworthy. probably will even let you sleep on the way home. Now c’mon, let’s go find her.”
You groan, but a small part of you is oddly curious—and maybe a little apprehensive.
Lugging your weight feels unbearable, but you do it anyway as Adri leads you to Paige, who’s stacking plastic cups to be thrown away.
“Paige! I need you to take Y/N home.” Adri yells, pitching her voice loud enough to cut through the thump of the fading music. She wobbles slightly as she gestures at you, and you stumble on your own feet, letting her steady you with an arm around your shoulders.
Paige glances up, a small look of mild annoyance on her face. She straightens and set the stack of cups aside. Her face holds a small, amused smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she assesses you—stumbling slightly, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed from the night.
With the way she’s looking, you’re expecting her to say no, but she doesn’t.
She exhales through her nose, a quiet, almost fond sound, and nods once. “Yeah,” she says simply. “I’ve got her.”
You groan softly, leaning against Adri’s side for support, feeling both relieved and apprehensive. Paige chuckles again, that smirk lingering, eyes flicking briefly back to you.
Adri cheers like she just won something, clapping her hands together before throwing her arms around Paige in a sloppy hug. “I knew I liked you,” she declares, planting a dramatic kiss in the air near Paige's cheek before Ismael gently pulls her back.
Paige laughs, steadying herself, then turns back to you. Her voice drops a little, lower than it was before, meant just for you. “You good to walk, or am I carrying you out of here?”
You straighten instinctively, pride kicking in despite the haze. “I can walk,” you say, even if the floor still feels like it’s moving.
She raises a brow, unconvinced but entertained. “Uh-huh. we’ll see.”
You tip toe over random bottles, straws, and discarded wristbands all over the floor. You’re swaying lightly, holding your arms out to help you find your balance.
You step and your heel clips a green glass bottle. It skitters instead of staying put, rolling just enough to steal your balance. Your stomach drops as your foot slips, the world tilting sharply to one side, and a startled sound leaves your throat as you start to go down.
Before you can fully tumble, a hand catches your arm—firm, steady. Paige steps in close, her other hand bracing your back as she pulls you upright.
Your face burns in embarrassment and you clear your throat. “Sorry.”
You risk a glance up at her. She's smiling—not the smirk from earlier, but something easier, lighter. It takes a little of the sting out of your embarrassment.
“You okay now?” She asks, easing her grip but keeping close enough to catch you if you wobble again.
You straighten, testing your balance. “Yeah.”
“M,” she hums, unconvinced, then offers her arm anyway. “Humor me.”
You hesitate for half a second before looping your fingers around her sleeve. The simple contact feels steadier than the ground beneath your heels.
Paige guides you toward the exit and holds the door open for you. The both of you pause for a second as she digs into her pocket and pulls out a key fob. She hits a button twice and you hear an engine roar to life across the way.
“That’s me,” she says, jerking her chin toward it.
You squint, trying to focus on the shape of the car through the blur of streetlights and leftover adrenaline. "Of course it is,” you mumble.
Paige keeps a hand at your elbow as you walk, not gripping, just there—steady, grounding. gravel crunches under your shoes. Your balance wobbles once, and she adjusts without making a thing of it, matching your step like it’s second nature.
When you reach the car, she opens the passenger door for you. The interior light flicks on, soft and amber, and you pause, staring at it like it’s a puzzle.
“Go on,” she says gently. “it don’t bite.”
You climb in, a little clumsy, and she closes the door after you with a careful thud. A second later, she’s in the driver’s seat, engine purring instead of roaring now.
You buckle your seatbelt and fall back against the seat, your eyelids suddenly heavy.
She leans forward, fingers brushing the dial, and twists it the other way. The car hum shifts, air warming as it spills from the vents instead of biting cold. She glances over, just for a second, to make sure you’re okay.
“Don't fall asleep on me yet,” she murmurs, half-teasing, half-gentle.
You nod passively. Your feet ache and you lean down to unbuckle them. You kick them off onto the floor, stretching your feet afterward.
Paige glances over at you and then offers you an unopened water bottle resting in the cup holder. “Drink. You've had a night.”
You glance over at her, and take the bottle. You snatch it from her and slowly twist the cap off as your eyes zero in on her jawline. It catches the streetlights, and most of her makeup has basically disappeared from her face, but she still looks amazing.
Slight ministrations cause her muscles to flex.
Paige feels it—your attention, the weight of your stare. She clears her throat and adjusts her grip on the wheel, knuckles whitening for a second before she relaxes again.
“You okay over there?” She asks, voice low, almost amused.
You take a slow sip of water, buying yourself time, the corner of your mouth lifting as you nod. “Yeah,” you say, still watching her. “Just enjoying the ride.”
You’re starting to sober up a bit and rub your eyes. You’re no longer slumped in the seat and feel more aware.
You rub your eyes, blinking slowly as the fog from the alcohol begins to lift. The weight slumping your shoulders eases, and you sit up straighter, feeling the car’s seat beneath you in a way you hadn’t noticed before.
You clear your throat, finally breaking the quiet that’s settled over the car. “I heard you were rookie of the year… congratulations,” you say, voice a little soft but sincere, the words feeling heavier than you expect in the stillness.
Paige glances at you from the corner of her eye, a small, almost amused smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks,” she says, voice low, easy, like she’s trying to play it casual—but there’s pride tucked into the single word.
She flicks a glance back to the road for a second, then her eyes meet yours again. “It’s been… a wild first season. but yeah, rookie of the year.” There's a faint laugh, quiet but warm, like she’s still processing it herself.
“No doubt you deserve it though, right?” You blink, hesitating slightly, trying to find the words. “You seem… responsible,” You don’t know a lot about Paige, but you do mean what you say.
Paige glances at you, eyes narrowing just a fraction as if she’s analyzing not just your words but your tone, your intent. “Something like that.”
Eventually, the familiar shape of your house comes into view, the streetlight casting long, soft shadows across the driveway. The engine hum quiets as Paige eases the car to a stop, the tires crunching lightly on the gravel.
She glances over at you, that same small smirk lingering, hands still steady on the wheel. “Home sweet home,” she says, voice casual but carrying that subtle amusement that’s threaded through the night.
Paige reaches over, unclipping your seatbelt. “Need a hand getting out?” she asks, her tone light, casual—a careful attentiveness that keeps you from moving too fast or too clumsily.
You take a steadying breath, nodding. “Yes, please.”
Paige rounds the truck and comes over to your side, flinging the door open.
“Here we go,” she says, voice low, carrying just a hint of that teasing edge you’ve noticed all night. She leans slightly, one hand brushing the roof of the truck for balance as she waits for you to move.
You pause for a fraction of a second, heart still a little fluttery from the night’s lingering buzz. You shift, gripping the edge of the seat for support. Her eyes meet yours, steady and unflinching, as if silently promising she’s got you.
“Come on,” she reaches for her hand. “Watch your step.”
And with that, you carefully swing your legs out, letting her guide you onto solid ground.
The both of you walk up the walkway, her hand on the small of your back. When you reach the door, you tug open your clutch with shaky hands and dig out the key to your front door.
Paige watches silently, her presence just behind you, steady and patient, giving you the space you need without letting go of the quiet support her hand provides. You slip the key into the lock, twisting it with a soft click.
“Here we go,” you murmur, sliding the door open, and she steps close, letting you move past her first but staying within reach, hand lingering just enough to guide you safely inside.
You throw your clutch onto the table in your mudroom, a soft thud filling the space. You turn back to Paige as she stands just outside of the threshold. She watches you wordlessly, but you know she’s been watching nonetheless. You feel the weight of her gaze, steady and attentive like she’s cataloging each one of your details.
Your heels dangle at her right side, but she seems to have forgotten about them.
“Paige…” you start softly, your voice breaking the silence, but the sound catches in your throat as her striking blue eyes meet yours. There's curiosity, and a hint of something else.
You take a slow step closer, and she shifts slightly, just enough to mirror you, heels in hand forgotten, letting the moment stretch between you in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.
You tilt your head slightly, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you break the silence. “do you want the house tour?” you ask, voice light, teasing—but carrying just enough edge to make her raise an eyebrow.
Paige blinks, just for a fraction, before that smirk returns, slow and knowing. “House tour, huh?” she repeats.
You shrug, playful, leaning against the doorway. “I mean, you’re already standing in it… might as well see the rest, right?”
You back away from the door, letting Paige step in. She sets your heels down on the table with your clutch and lets the door shut behind herself.
Without overthinking it, you reach for Paige's hand, your fingers threading through hers. You tug gently, guiding her through the foyer.
Her steps follow yours, smooth and deliberate, matching your pace as you lead her into the living room. The lights are soft, the familiar warmth of your home wrapping around you both. The quiet is almost dizzying— every brush of skin, every glance exchanged.
Paige lets herself be pulled, hand still in yours, but her posture is relaxed, shoulders down, a smirk tugging at her lips like she’s already amused by your sudden boldness.
“And here we are,” you say softly, letting go of her hand just enough to gesture around the room, though your pulse still hums from the contact. “Welcome to the heart of the operation.”
Her eyes sweep over the living room, lingering on you just as long as they do on the space. “Not bad,” she murmurs, the tone quiet, almost approving, before letting that playful spark peek through. “Do you host a lot?”
You shake your head, “no, I’m picky about the people I have over. I like my space.”
She smiles, “so I’m special, then?” Paige reaches up, clutching her heart through her sweater.
You tilt your head, catching the playfulness in her voice. “maybe,” you reply, voice low, teasing just enough to match her energy. “you’ll have to earn your invite next time.”
Moving on, you tug her through different areas of the house. You take her through the kitchen, dining room, laundry room, and office before standing at the bottom of the stairs together.
“Last stop,” you announce with a grin, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. You leap up the first few steps easily, then continue bounding upward, letting her follow at her own pace.
Paige laughs softly behind you.
You guide her to your bedroom. Some clothes from earlier linger and you can still smell the candle you lit. You belly flop onto the bed, watching as Paige walks around the room, looking at various pieces of decor.
You watch her, noting the way her posture relaxes in the space, how she leans slightly to read a framed quote or tilts her head at a piece of art.
When she finishes her slow circuit of the room, you pat the open spot next to where you’re sprawled on the bed.
“Come on,” you murmur, voice soft but inviting. “Plop down. Make yourself comfortable.”
The mattress dips slightly under her weight and you look her over. “Did you enjoy the tour?”
Paige’s eyes dart toward your lips, nodding. “Yeah, you keep a nice place.” She’s distracted by the way your tits nearly spill out of your dress and you look at her with determination and hunger all in one.
You hum, “ready to go home, then?” You’re only teasing, but you want to know what she’ll say.
She grimaces in denial. “When you invited me in, I was hoping I would get laid. But you know that already.”
You crawl to your knees and wrap your arms around her neck, giggling. “Right.”
“And what…?” She trails off, pulling back to look you in the eye. “You want me to put you through this mattress?”
Her hands move to rest on your hips, kneading the skin as she pulls you close.
You nod slyly, your face inching closer and closer to hers.
Your lips hover near hers, just inches apart, and you can feel the heat of her skin, the slight tremor of anticipation in the way she’s holding you. Her breath brushes against your face, faintly sweet, making your pulse thrum harder.
You tilt your head slightly, daring the moment to go further, but just as your lips are about to meet, she pulls back ever so slightly. The movement is slow, teasing, deliberate—a soft smirk playing on her lips as her eyes glint with mischief.
“Not yet,” she murmurs, voice low and playful, letting the tension hang thick in the air.
Paige takes your hand in her large one and settles it between her legs; directly on her crotch. She forces you to palm her strap, feeling its length and girth through her khakis. It’s at least six inches and thick just how you like it.
“If you want that,” Paige continues. “You’re going to have to earn it. Show me you can take it.”
You nod eagerly and inch even closer to Paige like you have to be buried in her skin.
Eagerly, she takes your lips into her, hands wrapping around your neck as she pulls you close.
You gasp softly against her mouth before melting into it and straddling her lap. She tilts her head, angling the kiss deeper, and the air between you is thick with heat and tension, every movement deliberate, consuming.
Her saliva covers your lips as you lean into her. She tastes like cherry chapstick and mint, sweet but subtle and delightful. Her hands grope at your ass, the meat exposed after your dress rose all the way up. It rests at your waist now, perfectly out of the way.
She mutters into the kiss, “couldn’t stop looking at you all night, and then I got to watch you go up the stairs in this tiny ass dress.”
You swallow her moans, breathing heavily as you pull at the hairs at the nape of her neck.
“Been waiting to rip this shit off you,” she finishes. Your tongues swipe against one another and you swear you’re drunk again off of the moment alone.
She drags you down, forcing you to grind on her lap and you cry out as you feel the pressure of her strap brushing against your clit through your thong.
There’s a wet patch on her pants from where you’ve been grinding.
You break the kiss just long enough to trail your lips down to the side of Paige’s neck, teeth grazing softly at first before pressing in with more intent. Your lips move against the warm, sensitive skin, sucking and nipping in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
The soft pressure of your mouth, combined with the teasing pull of your lips, leaves a mark—a deep, dark hickey blooming across the pale curve of her neck. Paige lets out a low, involuntary moan, her hands tightening in your hair as your lips move in tandem with the teasing bites of your teeth. “Oh, fuck me.”
She captures your lips into another kiss and begins to play with the strings of your underwear, tugging at them. She pulls one back and releases it, letting it snap against your skin. You yelp at the sensation.
Her hands are relentless, exploring boldly, tugging, kneading, and pulling just enough to keep you on edge.
Paige taps your thigh, signaling you to lighten up a bit so she can pull your panties down your model-esque physique.
You oblige and she tugs them down, a web of your slick snapping as she pulls them further and further.
“You’re so wet,” she whispers into your ear. “All that for me? I got that pussy pleadin’?”
“You talk too much,” you bite, nearly growling. You didn’t enjoy being teased.
“Shut the fuck up,” Paige grits. She takes your jaw between her fingertips and forces you to look her death in the eye. “You’re gonna take what I give you, understood?”
You swallow your words and refuse to answer. Paige’s nostrils flare, but she takes it to the chin. She reaches down between your legs and her thumb begins to circle your clit at an agonizingly slow pace.
The pleasure begins to bubble in your stomach, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing you were putty in her hands. You bit your tongue, the only way you could keep your moans inside.
“It’s okay, you don’t gotta say nothing. I already know you want me.” Paige brags.
Swiftly, she flips the both of you over so that you’re pinned below her. You’re caged in by her buff arms and her body weight on your lower half.
Her thumb is still prodding her clit, eyes searching your face for any sign of a reaction. When she doesn’t get one, she stops.
You don’t whine at the loss of stimulation, but you are disappointed.
Paige drops to her knees and yanks you to the edge of the bed so that your legs hang off of it. Then, she hoists your legs onto her shoulder. Paige places slow, wet kisses up your right leg. Each press of her mouth is warm and slick, her tongue occasionally flicking out to taste you, sending shivers crawling up your spine.
You let out soft, uneven breaths, your fingers tangling in her hair, urging her closer while your knees press together instinctively.
Your pussy smells sweet from where she is and she forces your legs open with both hands, dragging her kisses up even further. She blows on your clit, the sensation causes you to writhe.
“Such a pretty pussy,” she chimes, smelling your sweet nectar. Paige kisses gingerly just above your clit, letting the warmth settle before her tongue darts out to like under the hood.
You swallow a strangled moan and let out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Paige keeps her tongue steady, swiping against your clit waggishly. She flattens it, dragging it across your sex.
You grip her hair and your toes curl behind her shoulders. You don’t want to break, but you know you will.
Paige pulls away, gathering her saliva in her mouth before spitting it out onto your slit and sucking it back up. She hollows her cheeks, forming a vacuum.
Paige sucks at your clit relentlessly before releasing what is now a mix of her spit and your juices before repeating her process.
The pleasure is too great and your chest is starting to heave. You push at her head, but there’s not really anywhere you can run. Paige thought ahead when she pulled you to the end of the bed. “Unt-un,” she grits. “Take that shit.”
Your skin prickles with goosebumps and sweating settles in your neck. You begins to rock your hips against Paige’s face and finally moan out, giving in. Your voice is raspy as you cream all over her face, the rope in your stomach finally snapping.
“Fuck!” You cry, shoving her deeper, if even possible.
Though you’ve already cum, Paige doesn’t stop. She licks tight circles on your button, overstimulating you. All you can do is writhe as your face screws tight and Paige demands another orgasm from you.
Tears well in your eyes and you start to whimper, another coil in your gut forming. “Yeah,” Paige coaxes. “You got it, pretty, give it to me.”
You cum again, back arching against the mattress. You’re loud, and so loud you’re pretty sure the neighbors know exactly what’s going on.
Paige finally pulls away, her face coated in your juices and a proud smile on her lips. She kisses behind your knee once more before rising slowly.
You catch your breath and lean back on your elbows, watching as Paige gives you a show.
She peels off her sweater, revealing a white Nike sports bra. The heat in your chest spikes, heart hammering. Her muscles flex just like in the truck, and you really wished in that moment that she’d manhandle you.
Paige watches you, almost like she’s making up what she wants to do.
You sit up all the way once you’ve caught your breath. Feeling boldly, you stick your fingers into her waistband. It’s guarded by a belt, and you glance up at Paige. “Can I have it?”
Paige nods with a heavy smirk. You loosen the brooch of her belt, tugging the end through it. You pull it all the way through the loops on her pants and throw it across the room. Your fingers fumble with the button of the khakis, your knuckles even swiping against the skin of her lower stomach.
Paige’s index and thumb finger rub your jaw while her eyes hold a fond look.
You maintain eye contact while yanking her pants down, letting them pool at her ankles. She steps out of them and Paige’s strap hits her lower stomach.
It’s purple. “Cute,” you say.
Paige rolls her eyes and pushes you by your shoulder and back down onto the bed.
Paige settles between your legs, catching the hem of your dress and dragging it up your body. It comes off over your head and she tosses it behind you. Skipping your lips, Paige kisses down your chest, swirling a bud between her lips. Her free hand tweaks the neglected nipple.
She continues kissing down, leaving a hickey on your sternum. Each kiss is wet and decisive; she knows her end goal.
Quickly, Paige grabs your ankles and hikes your legs over her shoulders again. “Thinkin’ I wanna see your pretty face while I’m in this pretty pussy.”
You nod, “take your shot.”
Paige kisses you again, tugging your curls, causing you to moan into her mouth.
Paige slides the tip of the strap between your folds, getting it wet for you. You shiver at the sensation, your cream now cool against your skin.
She pulls you closer, pressing her body fully against yours, letting the intensity of the kiss speak the words her voice doesn’t. When you least expect it, Paige thrusts in and you moan as she bottoms out. The tip of her strap hits for g-spot easily and she doesn’t even give you time to adjust as she starts moving.
Paige's hips snap back and forth, barely giving you time to breath. “You feel me right there? In your guts?”
You wail, rocking your hips against Paige’s. A squelching sound reverberated through the room, Paige’s assault on your pussy relentless. “Feels so good, P.”
Fireworks exploded at each stroke. You’d never felt anything like this before and you’d be lying if you said Paige wasn’t the best you ever had. Your hand rests on Paige’s chest, fingers slipping under her sports bra. You shove it up, exposing her breasts. Her nipples pebble both from arousal and the coolness in the air.
You knead them in your hands like dough, pinching each nipple. Paige lets out a strangled moan, her hips stuttering,
You throw your head back, “you’re so deep, oh my—”
Paige temporarily slows her strokes as she digs you out, concentrating on actually seeing her in your stomach. Your cries went up in frequency as a tingly sensation formed in your stomach.
Paige’s abs flexed as she kept her core engaged. You glanced down at where the both of you met. White, sticky cream formed webs where her groin snapped against yours. Your essence slips out of you, dripping onto the mattress. “Aw, baby,” Paige coos. “You’re making a mess all over the bed— all on my dick.”
Your thighs shook violently, each moment becoming messier and wetter.
You lean up just enough to take Paige’s nipple into your mouth. You sucked all while hearing a shaky breath escape Paige and feeling your own orgasm approaching.
“You’re digging me out so good,” you cry out, “fuck, Paige!”
Paige reaches down, thumb prodding your clit once more. You clench around her strap, chasing relief.
“Kiss me,” you demand, pulling Paige into you. You bite down on her lip, forcing her mouth open as you dive into another kiss. Your tongues clash and spit strings hang between the both of you. You suck on her tongue, milking her for all you can.
“Shit,” she grimaces. “I might cum witchu if you keep doing me like this.”
“I’m gonna cum, P, I can’t take anymore.” Your eyes screw shut.
Paige’s thrusts are sloppy and her breathing is uneven as she takes you in. “I-I know, sexy.”
She delivers three final and strong thrusts to your pussy and you cum for the third time of the night. You spill onto the strap some more as Paige helps you ride out her high and tries to cum herself.
You let her, knowing she’s getting off on her own thrusts. You gather her hair into a ponytail and pull as you breath out together, cumming in tandem.
Your body spasms dramatically, convulsing under Paige’s weight. She collapses into your shoulder, but doesn’t entirely for fear of crushing you.
The room smells like sex and when you look between Paige’s thighs, there’s a noticeable wetness there. You reach down and stick your hand inside her boxers, swiping through her folds. She jumps at the feeling and watches as you take your middle finger into your mouth and suck on it.
Paige groans, “you’re killing me here.”
You laugh, smiling to yourself.
Eventually, Paige does fully collapse on top of you, not yet pulling out.
You catch your breath together, thinking about what actually just took place.
A beat passes before you start feeling like you have to say what’s on your mind. “Is this a one-time thing?”
The question brings Paige back to life momentarily. “Nah, definitely not. You’re mine now.”
© juumecca, all rights reserved. myself or others should not be able to find my works on any other platform unless stated by myself. thank you.
