#Elite Trophy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dykebehaviour · 22 days ago

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TRUST FUND

H E A R T B R E A K

ellie williams x fem!reader

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶˚.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶˚.

summary: after two years apart, you’re sent to an elite boarding school to escape your party-fueled lifestyle, only to discover your dorm roommate is ellie williams, your childhood best friend and first love. once inseparable, you two are now strangers carrying the weight of past heartbreak, family expectations, and simmering tension.

content: enemies to lovers, boarding school au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, oral r!receiving, fingering e!receiving, rich/posh lifestyle, emotional flashbacks, daddy issues, bratty/spoilt!reader, mean/stoic!ellie, hurt/comfort.

wk: 12.9k

a/n: okay this is a long one but oh how i loveeeee it. i hope you do too :)

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶˚.

the car that pulls up to saint anselm’s academy is sleek, black, and absurdly out of place among the autumn-stained gravel and wrought-iron gates. you sit inside like a trophy behind tinted glass, prada boots crossed at the ankle, one perfectly manicured hand twirling your cartier bracelet. the driver - your father’s assistant, because of course he didn’t come himself - pops the trunk and unloads your matching luggage with sterile efficiency.

“boarding school,” you murmur, glossed lips twisting. “grounded for having too much fucking fun.”

it should have been rehab. it almost was. but daddy couldn’t risk a photo of his daughter checking in at promises malibu, so instead you’re being hidden away, cleaned up, rebranded, like a messy investment portfolio.

you don’t even look up when the headmistress greets you.

you do, however, look up when the keycard slips into your palm and the words room 3c –ellie williams are spoken.

your stomach drops, glossy and full of sick nostalgia.

“wait,” you say, voice faltering for the first time in days. “she’s my roommate?”

the headmistress smiles like she’s got no idea what she’s just done.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

the room is luxurious. exposed brick walls, dark wood furniture, shelves lined with expensive books you know ellie has never read. one side is meticulously neat: black sketchpads stacked, boots lined up like soldiers, a jacket, that jacket, hung on a copper hook. the other side is empty, waiting for you to clutter it with designer chaos.

you haven’t seen ellie in two years.

not since you ghosted her that summer, the summer she told you she loved you and you said nothing back. the summer your father sat you down and told you to grow up, clean up, fix up. the summer you broke her heart and locked your own away in a velvet box with a gold clasp.

you recognise her before she says anything. she’s standing in the doorway, hands in the pockets of that same worn bomber jacket, hair a little longer, jaw a little sharper.

“you have got to be kidding me,” she mutters.

your heart jumps.

“hi, els,” you say, and you hate how soft your voice sounds. like it remembers her before you do.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

FLASHBACK - age 12

ellie’s strung up fairy lights. they’re glowing soft above your heads as you sit with your knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves swallowed in your fists, eyes blotchy and red.

“i told my mom,” you whisper. “that i like girls.”

ellie doesn’t say anything. just nudges closer, blanket pulled up to her chin. there’s the faint smell of coconut from her shampoo. you bury your face in her pillow.

“she told me not to tell my dad,” you say. “said he’d ruin it. ruin me.”

ellie’s fingers brush your wrist. “he won’t.”

“you don’t know him.”

silence again, then: “i think i like girls too.”

your heart flutters. you look over at her. “really?”

she nods. “maybe just one.”

you don’t say anything, but you fall asleep smiling.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

back in the present, she doesn’t offer you help with your luggage. just moves around you like smoke.

“i’m not switching rooms,” she says flatly, dropping onto her bed.

you snort, tossing your cashmere coat onto your unmade side. “please. you think i want to be here? sharing a room with you? what is this, poetic punishment?”

she looks up at that, eyes narrowing like a blade’s edge. “you think everything’s about you.”

“it usually is,” you snap, then instantly regret it.

ellie turns away, jaw clenched. you see the flicker of something there; hurt, maybe. recognition.

you hate that she still gets to you.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

you meet the others the next day. ellie’s circle. a misfit trio of intimidating cool.

cat - razor-sharp, composed, somehow elegant even in a hoodie.

sarah - cat-eyed, sarcastic, always holding a lollipop and probably a secret.

and dina - kind, warm, always rambling on about her boyfriend jesse, who you gather is in one of the other exclusive private schools.

they don’t warm to you right away.

“didn’t peg ellie for a girl who’d room with gossip girl,” cat says.

“i’m not,” ellie mutters.

but then you start showing up to things. dinner. lit class. a party in the old astronomy tower with strobe lights and expensive vodka smuggled in through a trust fund’s worth of connections.

dina softens first. then sarah. cat just watches you, like she’s trying to find the seams.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

FLASHBACK – age 14

ellie’s mom dies.

you find out via text. you’re in monaco with your family, your father signing some oil deal, your mother shopping herself into oblivion.

you buy a flight back on your own credit card.

ellie's front porch is dark when you arrive at her house.

ellie opens the door to her childhood bedroom with dead eyes. her hair’s a mess. her hoodie’s swallowed her whole.

you crawl into bed beside her and wrap your arms around her waist.

“i’m here,” you say. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and for a while, you aren’t.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

two weeks into your exile, you go to a party that could’ve been a gala. champagne towers. violins and bass drops. everyone in designer, everyone pretending to be broken.

you’re drunk before ellie shows up, dragging dina behind her. her eyes scan the room like she’s already tired of it.

you’re on the balcony with a girl from eton who’s feeding you lines like they’re caviar.

when ellie walks past, you shout, “hey, roomie.”

she stops.

she smirks. “that your girlfriend?”

“ex–best friend,” you say, too loud. “first heartbreak.”

ellie’s eyes flash with something murderous. she walks away without a word.

you chase her down three songs later.

“what’s your problem?” you demand.

“my problem is you acting like none of it meant anything,” she snaps.

you’re nose to nose in the back stairwell. she smells like smoke and frustration.

“you think i wanted to leave?” you say. “you think i liked pretending we didn’t happen?”

“you ghosted me,” ellie says. “like i didn’t even exist.”

and then, without thinking, you grab her by the jacket and kiss her.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

FLASHBACK – age 16

it’s summer. a beach house your families share. you’re sunburned and exhausted, tangled in ellie’s sheets after a day in the waves.

the kiss starts slow. nervous. ellie’s hand shaking on your hip.

“you sure?” she whispers.

you nod. “you?”

she doesn’t answer with words.

it’s soft. scared. honest.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

back in the stairwell, the kiss is the opposite. All teeth and tongue and years of swallowed rage.

you’re breathless by the time you shove open the dorm room door, ellie’s fingers gripping your wrist like she can’t let go now, not after everything. your back hits the wall before the door even clicks shut behind you.

it’s not sweet. not yet.

it’s desperate.

ellie crashes into you, mouths slanting together in a kiss that tastes like vodka, spit, and anger. her hands dig into your waist; yours claw at the collar of her shirt like you’re trying to rip two years of distance off her skin.

you drag her down by the front of her sweater, panting, whispering, “take it off.”

she pulls away just enough to yank it over her head, tossing it to the floor. her tank top underneath clings to her like a second skin, the lines of her arms sharp in the low light. you’re already unbuttoning your blouse, your fingers shaking as she watches you with blown pupils and a clenched jaw.

when you get it off, ellie steps in, hands skimming your ribs, thumbs slipping under your lacy black bra.

“you always wore this to parties?” she mutters, voice low, rough. “knew what you were doing?”

your lips curl into a smirk. “wanted to drive you crazy.”

she answers by kissing you again, deeper, teeth dragging your bottom lip as her hands move down - unzipping your skirt, pushing it past your hips.

it slips to the floor, and you’re standing there in nothing but your bra and a soaked pair of panties.

“god,” ellie whispers. “still such a fucking brat.”

you shove her lightly toward the bed. “then put me in my place.”

that flips a switch in her.

she backs you into the mattress, hands on your waist, and throws you down. the moment your back hits the sheets, she’s on top of you, mouthing at your jaw, your neck, biting down just enough to leave something behind.

you gasp when her hand slips between your thighs, rubbing over your panties. you’re soaked, and she groans when she feels it.

“you’ve been wet since the stairwell,” she mutters, voice gravel-thick.

“you’re so fucking cocky now,” you pant, arching into her touch.

“learned it from you.”

her fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down, slow, teasing. her eyes stay locked on yours while she peels them off and tosses them aside.

then she’s between your thighs, pushing them open with her hands, kissing the inside of your knee, the curve of your thigh, your hipbone.

“you still smell the same,” she murmurs. “missed this. missed you.”

you barely manage to whisper her name before her mouth is on you.

your head falls back, a moan ripping from your throat. she licks a slow, wet stripe up your center, then flicks her tongue against your clit in small, focused circles. you grip the sheets in one hand and her hair in the other, hips jerking at the sudden intensity.

“ellie-fuck-“

she groans into you like she’s starving for it, arms wrapped under your thighs to pin you down.

she sucks your clit into her mouth, and you see white.

“i-i’m gonna-”

“do it,” she breathes. “come for me.”

you fall apart, legs shaking, moaning her name like a prayer.

she keeps licking through it, slower now, gentler, until your hips twitch and you gasp from the overstimulation.

she pulls back, mouth glistening, lips red and slick. her eyes are so dark now they’re nearly black.

“you always come that fast?” she asks smugly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

you pull her down by her shirt and kiss her hard, tasting yourself on her lips. “only for you.”

you grab the hem of her tank top and yank it up - she lifts her arms, letting you strip it off, then her sports bra.

you trail your fingers over her chest, biting your lip. “still think i’m a brat?”

ellie smirks. “you’re about to be a wreck.”

you flip her over, straddling her hips, letting your still-sensitive pussy grind down against the toned skin of her thigh. she exhales harshly, hands on your hips.

you reach down between you both, sliding your hand over her stomach, into her boxers.

she’s wet. soaked.

“jesus,” you whisper. “you were dying for it.”

“you have no idea,” she groans, eyes fluttering shut as you slide two fingers inside her.

she arches up into you, legs spreading wider, hips rocking. her moans are guttural, breathy; desperate in a way that feels almost sacred.

you kiss her collarbone, her throat, her mouth, while you fuck her slow and deep, curling your fingers the way you remember drives her crazy.

her head tips back. “fuck-keep going, i’m close-“

“look at me,” you whisper, kissing the corner of her mouth.

she opens her eyes just as she comes, her whole body seizing under you, mouth falling open in a broken gasp. you slow your fingers, easing her through it, pressing kisses to her jaw and cheek.

she’s still trembling when you pull your hand out and collapse beside her, both of you slick with sweat and flushed to the collarbones.

she turns her head, looking at you like she’s still trying to catch her breath.

you smile, brushing a lock of damp hair from her forehead. “hi.”

ellie lets out a breathless laugh. “hey.”

you lie there, still half tangled in each other, her leg between yours, your hand resting on her stomach. the only sound is your breathing and the faint hum of rain hitting the window.

you fall asleep in her arms, skin warm, heart steady for the first time in years.

you wake up alone.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

you don’t talk for two days.

then you break first.

find her sketching under the library archways and throw your phone at her.

“block me again and i’ll key your audi.”

she looks up slowly. her sketchbook’s open; pages of you, sleeping. lips parted. hair spilled over her pillow.

“i didn’t block you,” she says.

“right.”

“i panicked.”

“so did i.”

she looks at you, eyes softer now. “why’d you really leave?”

you swallow. “because i didn’t want you to be the reason my father stopped loving me.”

silence. then ellie stands.

“i would’ve loved you either way.”

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

things change after that.

not all at once. but slowly, like a fever breaking.

you move through school with a new rhythm. ellie starts letting you in again - hands brushing yours in hallways, whispered jokes over dinner. her friends become your friends. sarah teaches you how to braid your own hair. dina makes you playlists. cat tells you secrets in exchange for yours.

you’re not just rich anymore.

you’re loved.

and this time, you won’t run from it.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

FLASHBACK – age 16

you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, still in your swimsuit under a towel, legs curled up. ellie’s pacing; slow, like she’s walking a tightrope.

“i need to say something,” she says, voice cracking a little.

you glance at her, confused. “okay…”

ellie stops, looks right at you, and for a second, she’s the girl you’ve known since you were eight. the one who made you mix cds in middle school, who held your hair when you threw up after sneaking your dad’s scotch, who kissed you for the first time in your bedroom under fairy lights when you were fourteen like she was terrified and certain all at once.

“i love you,” she says.

the words fall like a thunderclap. like someone pulled the sun out of the sky.

you blink.

“what?”

ellie’s already regretting it. “i know. i know it’s early - whatever. but i do. i’ve loved you since we were like fucking kids…probably. i mean, i didn’t know, then. but i do now.”

you don’t answer right away. you feel the blood drain from your face. something in your chest pulls tight - panic? fear? shame?

you stand abruptly, wrapping your towel tighter. “ellie…”

she stiffens. “don’t do that. don’t say my name like that.”

you take a breath. “you can’t just say that.”

“why not?” ellie’s voice rises, brittle. “we slept together. i know what that meant.”

“i don’t know what it meant.”

ellie flinches. “are you serious?”

you start pacing now, agitated, defensive. “we just-god, it was a moment, ellie. you’re making it into-“

“you cried,” ellie snaps. “you held my fucking face and told me no one ever made you feel safe before.”

you shut your eyes. “that doesn’t mean i’m ready to be in love with you.”

ellie crosses her arms tightly. “or maybe it means you’re scared of what people will think.”

you go quiet.

ellie’s voice hardens. “that’s it, isn’t it? you can fuck me behind closed doors, but god forbid anyone knows.”

you feel yourself flush, not with guilt - but rage. “do you have any idea the kind of pressure i’m under? my dad’s already suspicious. my friends-“

“your dad’s a fucking asshole,” ellie says coldly. “he’s spent your whole life trying to make you ashamed of who you are.”

“yeah, well, i can’t afford to burn everything down the way you do, ellie!”

the room goes dead silent.

ellie stares at you. her jaw clenches. “so that’s what you think of me?”

you swallow. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“no. you did.” she laughs bitterly, hurt blooming across her face. “it’s fine. i’m used to it.”

“ellie-“

she grabs her keys from the dresser. “it’s always me, huh? i’m the one who’s too much, too intense. i’m the one who loves harder.”

you want to stop her. you don’t.

she’s halfway out the door when she turns back. “you’re gonna miss me when i’m gone.”

you stare at her. frozen. scared. seething.

you say nothing.

ellie waits. one last chance.

you stay silent.

she leaves.

and two days later, when she texts you, you ignore it.

and the next week.

and the week after that.

eventually, she stops trying.

and you both go quiet for two years.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

one night, you sit in ellie’s bed together, legs tangled, her sketchbook resting on your knees.

“you ever gonna forgive me?” you ask.

she leans in, presses her mouth to your collarbone. “already did.”

you smile, fingers curling in her shirt. “good.”

because this time, you’re not going anywhere.

and neither is she.

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pinkpilledradfem · 19 days ago

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I'm so sick and tired of girls my age making jokes that pander to men. "haha it doesn't matter if I fail my exams I'll just become a stripper." Number one, you're 15. The fact that you're already thinking in such a way proves that men's views of women are so pervasive and have shaped even young people. Number two, due to this male centric world view you believe that becoming a stripper is fine, safe, normal. It isn't. The average stripper has been assaulted near to 5 times. Oftentimes they're forced to strip due to dire circumstances. Its not a choice for many, and to insinuate so is absolutely disgusting. On top of this, the rise of anti intellectualism. "I dont want to go to university! Im just a girl, i just wanna be a trophy wife!" A trophy wife with financial dependence on her probably cheating husband, who has no backup options if the marriage falls through (which it will, divorce rates in the elite are sky high) and a decade long gap in your resume. I dont care if you're joking, men truly believe that women should serve them and your "Joke" will probably make an idiot man think that you're agreeing with him. Even more benign jokes such as "Girl maths is when I buy 45 quid worth of makeup, but i used a 10 quid voucher so i actually made money" are harmful because if girl maths is so trivial, what is man maths? Is it degree level maths? Is the maths that Maryam Mirzakhani did not "Girl maths" even though it was done by a woman simply because its not inane enough?

I go to a school where many girls are intellectually bright, and yet they keep saying they want to get married at 20, or 18. I've heard some lamenting the fact its no longer legal to get married at 16. Its infuriating and depressing. They claim what they say are "Jokes" but it gets old.

#feminism #radical feminism #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radblr #gender critical #radfemblr #female solidarity #fuck the patriarchy #kam #sex based oppression

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itscalledastrategyfred · 2 months ago

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You and Me (always forever!)

Request: no but I liked the bit of takeout Times so uhm...here guys<3.

Pairing: Husband!Max Verstappen x Wife!reader

Warnings: FLUFF HAS COME AGAIN (do you guys want angst or smut idk anymore)

Summary: You stole someone's hoodie.

The hum of the Red Bull garage still clung to Max’s skin as he tugged off the top half of his race suit, sweat-damp curls clinging to his forehead, fireproofs bunching around his waist. FP2 had gone well—second fastest on the board, decent long-run pace, and a few jokes thrown across the radio with GP—but you were the only thing on his mind as he headed straight to the driver room.

And there you were.

Sitting on the couch you’d both claimed earlier, now wearing his hoodie, the navy fabric practically swallowing you whole.

Max froze in the doorway.

“You’re wearing my hoodie.”

You glanced up, mid-scroll on your phone, and grinned. “I always wear your hoodie.”

“Yeah, but you’re wearing my hoodie after FP2. That makes it elite.”

You snorted as he crossed the room in three strides, shedding his balaclava and gloves before flopping down beside you. He didn’t even hesitate—just dragged you straight into his lap like he’d needed to touch you since he stepped out of the car.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, arms wrapping tight around your waist.

“You saw me less than an hour ago.”

“I know. Too long.”

You tucked a few damp strands of blond hair back from his forehead, thumb brushing over his cheek. “You did amazing.”

“P2.”

“Still amazing.”

His smile went soft at that, eyes dropping to where your hands were fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. “I swear, it’s impossible to care about the leaderboard when I walk in and see you like this.”

You leaned in. “Like what?”

“In my hoodie. Looking like you belong in it.”

You didn’t say anything—just kissed the tip of his nose, then his cheek, then right over that little spot just below his eye that always crinkled when he smiled.

Max let his head fall back against the couch, pulling you tighter against his chest. “You know,” he murmured, “I’ve got trophies, helmets, championship rings... but this?”

“This?” you asked, half-laughing.

“This—you in my hoodie, wrapped around me, after a long day in the car? This is better than all of it.”

You sank into him, the sound of his heartbeat louder than the cooling fans humming in the background. The rest of the world—engine notes, flashing cameras, pit walls—it could wait.

Here, you had his hands warm on your back, his lips ghosting over your forehead, and that voice—his voice—soft and sleepy and only for you.

“Let’s just stay like this forever,” he whispered.

You nodded, smiling against his chest.

“Forever sounds good.”

A/N: THE LAST TWO FICS HAVE BEEN SO SHORT IM SORRY!!!

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen #oracle red bull racing #max verstappen x reader #husband!max verstappen #wife!reader #fem!reader #fluff #formula 1 fluff

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ccupcakeyss · 3 months ago

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bllk boys sex headcannons?

SAY LESS!!!

૮ 𓏵 BLLK BOYS SEX HEADCANONS 𓂂 ⠀୧

SUMMARY: bllk boys sex headcanons !!! including: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, kunigami rensuke, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, reo mikage, nagi seishiro and shidou ryusei ofcourse!

CW: graphic sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, light degradation, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, penetration (protected), overstimulation, orgasm control, power play, possessive behavior, dirty talk, filthy language, light bondage (silk ties, wrist restraints), hair pulling, marking (hickeys, bruises), aftercare themes, nipple play, semi-public teasing, lingerie kink, mirror sex, jealousy/possessiveness, rivals-to-lovers tension, lazy sex, sleepiness kink (consensual), emotionally detached sex with underlying feelings, slight choking (consensual), smutty dialogue, smut with plot, fem!reader

NOTES: first time doing headcanons, mb if out of character ..

ISAGI YOICHI

“Surprisingly filthy once the lights are off.”

• He’s got a praise kink like you wouldn’t believe. Call him a “good boy” and he’ll come undone.

• Loves face-sitting. Will hold your thighs down and just stay there like it’s his job.

• Moans. Loudly. Thinks he’s being quiet but he’s absolutely not.

• He might start off soft and loving, but give it a few rounds and he’s pounding you from behind, hand in your hair, telling you how tight you feel.

• Post-nut cuddles? Non-negotiable. He’s holding you like you’re the championship trophy.

BACHIRA MEGURU

“Chaos in the streets, freak in the sheets.”

• Into overstimulation — both ways. Will finger you until your legs are shaking, then eat you out just to see how far you can go.

• Definitely into playful bondage. Ties your wrists with his jersey, grinning the whole time.

• Calls sex “playtime” and means it. Loves experimenting, roleplay, teasing, even risky public stuff.

• Wild with his tongue. He’ll go down on you and hum just to hear you moan his name louder.

• Filthy talker. He’ll whisper how wet you are, how he can feel you clenching, and laugh when you whine.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

“Pretty boy with a sharp edge.”

• Looks like he’s delicate. He’s not. He’ll have your legs shaking with precision thrusts, hand at your throat, lips on your ear.

• Into mirror sex. Wants you to watch him ruin you. Loves hearing you beg for more.

• Huge into aftercare. Washes you gently, kisses every mark he left on your skin.

• Hair pulling? Yes, please. Let him grab your hair, pull your head back, and whisper how good you feel.

• Will edge you for hours if you let him, smirking when you cry from being denied.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

“The gentle giant who will absolutely break your back.”

• Has the stamina of a god. One round? Nah. Try four. Maybe five.

• Big into body worship. Loves how small you look underneath him. Kisses every inch of you.

• Quiet grunts, deep groans — and when he finally lets go, he growls your name.

• Pick-you-up-and-fuck-you-against-the-wall strength. And he will use it.

• Will blush like crazy when you compliment his size… but still make you scream his name in the next breath.

ITOSHI SAE

“Cold in public, nasty in private.”

• Has a serious dominance streak. You don’t cum until he says so. And you better ask politely.

• Into degradation — but classy. “You really think you deserve this cock? Prove it.”

• Finger game = elite. He’s calculated. He’ll hit your G-spot and just watch you come apart.

• Doesn’t get flustered. He’s calm, composed, and relentless while he’s inside you.

• Rarely shows emotion… until he’s close. Then he mutters your name, voice strained, breath on your neck. Killer.

ITOSHI RIN

“Quiet but dark — you bring out his wild side.”

• Intense eye contact. Wants you to look at him while he’s deep inside you, wants to see you fall apart.

• A little possessive. He doesn’t say it, but the way he marks you with hickeys? Loud and clear.

• Grinds more than thrusts — slow, deep, intentional. You’ll feel every inch.

• Gets off on you being needy for him. Texts you while he’s at training: “Touch yourself. Don’t cum until I get home.”

• Hair messy, flushed cheeks, breathing hard as he whispers, “You’re mine.” And he means it.

MICHAEL KAISER

“Cocky, flashy, and absolutely unhinged in bed.”

• Loves showing off — will make you cum over and over just to prove he can.

• Calls you “princess,” “baby,” “my good little slut” — all in the same breath.

• Loves watching himself fuck you. Mirror, phone camera, even recording from his POV. Egotist to the core.

• Into lingerie. Buys you expensive sets just so he can rip them off.

• Will pull your panties to the side, slide in, and whisper, “Tell me how perfect my cock feels.” And god, it does.

OLIVER AIKU

“Big captain energy with a freaky side.”

• Experienced. Knows exactly how to touch you, how to hold you, how to break you.

• Dirty talker deluxe. “That’s it, baby. Look at you. So cock-drunk already?”

• Gives the best aftercare — draws you a bath, massages your legs, kisses your forehead like you didn’t just get railed into next week.

• Loves when you ride him. Hands behind his head, smug smirk on his face, letting you take what you need.

• Also into threesomes. Would absolutely invite someone else in, just to watch you get devoured while he takes care of the rest.

REO MIKAGE

“Spoil me and let me spoil you.”

• He’s a giver, first and foremost. Reo gets off on making you feel spoiled, overstimulated, and ruined — but only by his hands.

• Will buy you the most luxurious lingerie and then say, “You’re not allowed to take it off. That’s my job.”

• Total power play in the sheets. He’s used to control in every part of his life — and that carries over. He’ll have you on your knees, begging for his cock, while he keeps a hand under your chin, smirking.

• Into marking you — hickeys, bites, handprints on your ass. He wants to see proof of himself on your body.

• Big on eye contact. He wants you to look him in the eyes while you cum. It’s a control thing, and a connection thing.

• Aftercare KING. Wipes you down with warm towels, feeds you chocolate-dipped strawberries, runs a bath. You’re his princess, but a filthy one.

NAGI SEISHIRO

“Too lazy to care… until he’s in the mood. Then it’s over.”

• The type to say “meh” to everything all day… but when he wants you? Game over. Lethal in bed once his switch flips.

• Big into lazy sex — letting you ride him while he lies back, groaning lowly, hands on your hips guiding you like he’s half-asleep… but his eyes are locked on you the whole time.

• But sometimes? He gets possessive out of nowhere. You’ll kiss someone on the cheek or wear something too short and suddenly he’s flipping you over, face-down, ass-up, giving you slow deep strokes while whispering, “Mine. Only mine.”

• Messy oral. Doesn’t care if his face gets drenched — in fact, he loves it. Goes down on you like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

• Moans under his breath. Soft but filthy — little curses, drawn-out groans, and “fuck, that’s so good…”

• He’ll act like he’s too tired to go again… until you beg. And then he’s flipping you onto your back and fucking you so hard the headboard slams the wall.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

“Violent, vulgar, and sinfully good at ruining you.”

• Ferally dominant. Doesn’t make love — he fucks. Rough, loud, messy, and unapologetically aggressive about it.

• Biting. Everywhere. Your neck, thighs, shoulders, ass — he marks you like he’s claiming territory. Loves when you’re covered in bruises from the night before.

• “Don’t act all shy now,” he’ll growl as he shoves his fingers into your mouth or drags his tongue up your thigh. “You knew what this was.”

• Dirty talk is constant. Shidou will moan, curse, growl, and say the filthiest shit while keeping eye contact.

• Public sex kink? Massive. He’ll finger you in a bathroom, eat you out in a locker room, and tell you to be quiet while he fucks you with people right outside.

#bllk smut #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #chigiri hyoma #kunigami rensuke #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #michael kaiser #oliver aiku #reo mikage #nagi seishiro #shidou ryusei #blue lock #smut #headcanon

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prettygirl-gabi · 3 months ago

Text

Title: Happy Tears in Tampa

Pairing: mom!Paige Bueckers x mom!Azzi Fudd x gf!mom!Reader, oc!daughter (Isla)

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: their last 40 mins on that court in the huskies jerseys, but they’ll spend a lifetime in your heart

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

I don’t think I’ve ever cried as hard over a basketball game in my life. And I’ve cried over a lot of basketball games.

But tonight… tonight was different.

“Let’s go, Paige! Come on, Azzi!” I yell, my voice cracking from the sheer force of emotion. My hands are trembling around Isla’s tiny ones, and my heart’s pounding like I’m the one who just played forty minutes.

Except I didn’t play. I stayed back in Storrs during the Elite 8. I wasn’t in Spokane when Paige dropped 71 points- both games combined and Azzi having off game shooting wise, but on defense she was a monster. I wasn’t in the stands when they beat Oklahoma and then USC to get here. But I made it to Tampa.

And I wasn’t alone.

“Isla, do you want to sit with Nana Katie and Grandpa Tim again?” I asked her at the start of the fourth, her curly puffs bouncing as she shook her head.

“Nooo, stay with Mama,” she said, cuddling into my side.

We were sitting next to Aaliyah, who flew in just to support the girls. She held Isla during the second quarter, whispering jokes that had our daughter giggling into her braids. But by the time the final few minutes rolled around, Isla wanted to stay close.

Aaliyah leaned toward me now, grinning as she nudged my elbow. “You good?”

I sniffled, nodding. “I’m so proud of them. Like, so proud.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, too,” she teased, brushing under her eyes. “This is crazy.”

And it was.

1:32 left on the clock. We were up 82 to 53.

That’s when it happened. The moment I think I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

“Foul on Azzi Fudd,” the announcer said.

I leaned forward, my hands tight around Isla’s waist. “Alright, baby, Mommy Azzi got a little handsy.”

Azzi raised a hand, shaking her head with a soft smirk as she turned to the bench.

And then, almost in perfect sequence…

“Subbing in for UConn: Qadence Samuels, Allie Ziebell, Caroline Ducharme, Aubrey Griffin…”

The crowd roared.

The tears hit.

I watched Paige, grab the towel from Allie also giving the ones who subbed in high-fives before walking over to Geno, who stood on the sidelines already tears building in his eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him so tight, and he hugged her right back.

That’s when I felt it. The heat behind my eyes, the burn in my throat. My chest caved in.

I was crying.

Not because they were losing. Not even because they were winning.

But because they did it. She did it. They did it.

Paige Bueckers. Azzi Fudd. UConn women’s basketball team. National Champions.

“Mama?” Isla asked, frowning up at me as she wiped at my cheek with her tiny fingers. “Why are you crying?”

I grabbed her little hand and kissed it. “Because I’m happy, baby. Mommy Paigey and Mommy Azzi worked really hard for this. These are happy tears.”

She looked over to the bench where Paige was wiping her own face, then at me, then at Azzi—who was grinning so hard her cheeks looked like they might burst. Azzi had her arm around Aubrey, motioning toward the stands, probably at Katie and Tim.

Then Isla smiled. “Oh… okay.”

The buzzer sounded and the arena exploded.

Final score: 82-59.

Confetti launched. The band played. The girls jumped and screamed and fell into each other’s arms.

I made my way toward the family section as the trophy ceremony started. It was chaos, but the good kind.

I spotted Amy and Bob—Paige’s parents—and their partners, along with Lauren, Ryan, and Drew, cheering their hearts out. Tim was lifting Isla’s arms, making her cheer. Katie had her hand over her mouth, completely stunned.

“MOST OUTSTANDING PLAYER OF THE TOURNAMENT… AZZI FUDD!”

I saw Azzi freeze a bit, her eyes wide before she was pulled forward. Paige clapped the loudest out of everyone, grinning from ear to ear. Sarah throwing confetti in her face as she walks to the middle of the stage they were on.

“She’s gonna sob later,” I muttered.

“Gonna?” Aaliyah teased. “Sis is already started from when she hugged Paige.”

Net-cutting time was next. Azzi before paige, next Paige climbed the ladder second to last, CD cutting her pieces, and with Geno going up last.

She looped the net around her neck, turned to the crowd with the biggest, brightest smile I’d ever seen—and scanned until she found us.

“ISLA!” she screamed, laughing.

I hoisted Isla up and waved.

When she and Azzi finally made their way to the tunnel, they paused right at the barricade. I squeezed forward as bob and everyone around us let me get to the front, holding Isla tight.

“Hi, my loves,” I breathed, voice thick with emotion.

Paige’s hair was slick with sweat under her championship hat, the net still around her neck. She was practically glowing. Azzi wasn’t much better, her eyes slightly red, but had biggest smile on the face of a winner.

Paige had reached her siblings first. Ryan got to hug her over the barricade first. Then Lauren and finally, after pulling drew into a really tight hug arms wrapped around his head, Drew reached for his handshake with Paige—an elaborate, goofy routine they’d perfected since he was little. She nailed it with the biggest grin ever.

After tapping his head back. She looked at us. Isla and I like we were her true prize. Before I could make my move fully.

Isla squirmed. “I want Mommy Paigey!”

Paige’s face lit up.

She reached over the barricade, grabbing Isla from me and hugging her to her chest. “Oh, I missed you so much, baby girl!”

Azzi leaned in, kissing my cheek, then my lips softly. “Thank you for being here,” she whispered. “She’s gonna remember this forever.”

I kissed her back. “So will I.”

“Mommy ZeeZee,” Isla said, reaching for her with one arm while clinging to Paige with the other. “I wanna go with you and Mommy Paigey!”

“Then let’s go,” Azzi said with a wink.

“Can she come too?” Paige asked, nodding toward me.

A staff member overheard and nodded. “We’ll come back for her once the press clears.”

I squeezed Paige’s hand and mouthed, I love you.

Fifteen minutes later, one of the assistants waved me down from the floor.

I was ushered through a side tunnel, weaving through wires and empty Gatorade cups. The door to the locker room opened, and I stepped in just in time to hear a chorus of singing.

“We are the champions, my frieeeends!”

Azzi was standing on the benches, Isla in her arms, Paige beside her with her arms wrapped around both of them. Sarah and Ashlynn were dancing like idiots with their hats backward, and Kk had her phone up recording the whole thing.

Geno was nowhere in sight—thank God.

“Hey! Mama’s here!” Paige called out.

“MAAAMAAA!” Isla yelled, reaching for me.

I ran to them, hugging Azzi and Paige both as they leaned down to squeeze me between them.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered.

Paige buried her face in my neck. “This means everything with you here.”

“Don’t start crying again,” Azzi joked, nudging me.

“No promises,” I said, sniffling.

“Hey, team pic with Isla!” Aubrey shouted.

Everyone gathered in. Paige held Isla. Azzi hugged me from behind. Sarah threw up a peace sign. Caroline was crying for the third time.

The flash went off. The room buzzed with love.

Isla yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Can we sleep now?”

Everyone laughed.

“Yeah, baby,” I said, kissing her head. “You earned it.”

Paige and Azzi looked at each other, then at me.

“I think we all did.”

And for the first time all week, I believed it too.

National Champions.

A family.

Happy tears. Always.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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pueckersgirl · 6 months ago

Text

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Paige Bueckers x Teammate! reader

summary — Paige finally realizing that she fell for her best friend after the win against usc :)

warnings — none, super cute

note — first post, so scared.. literally just thought of this out of nowhereee, send requests tho!!

wc — 1.9k

It’s your senior year at Uconn, your last season and opportunity to win the natty you’ve been chasing since you were a freshman. You’d worked so hard all throughout the season, determined to make it to the NCAA Championship finals.

After the season you’d had so far, things were looking great for the team. Your team worked amazingly together, on and off the court. Especially you and Paige, an unstoppable duo, which was a title you embraced.

It was the Elite Eight, a game that would decide if you made it to the Final Four or not. The game was against USC, a team just as good as your own.

They put up quite the fight, wanting the win just as bad as you. It was a close game, but with only three seconds on the clock and being up by seven, you knew you’d won.

You can hardly hear the buzzer that announces the end of the game, your teammates and Uconn fans already screaming.

You’re not even thinking when your feet automatically carry you towards Paige, throwing yourself into a hug. She’s screaming too, wrapping her arms around you while jumping excitedly.

You’d wanted this so bad, but if there was one person who wanted it more than you, it was her.

Paige has had it rough throughout her years at Uconn. She missed a good bit of her sophomore season after fracturing her tibia, and then missed all over her junior season due to tearing her ACL.

Her ACL recovery journey was not easy, you witnessed it firsthand. It took longer than the usual recovery did, but she never gave up. And this season, she jumped right back in, like she was never injured to begin with.

She was so strong, one of the millions of things you admire about her. In fact, you might have a tiny crush on the girl, who happened to be your best friend.

A tiny crush that she was completely oblivious to.

It wasn’t that you purposefully tried to show it, but you weren’t exactly discreet. The whole team had found out about it, constantly teasing you to no end. Whether it was the way you’d stare at her when she wasn’t paying attention, or the blush that would coat your cheeks when she hugged you an extra long second.

It was obvious to everyone but her. So obvious that fans had noticed and started shipping you with her. You would never tell a soul, but sometimes you’d watch ship edits, cheesing at the clips.

The edits made it look like she almost liked you back. Almost.

Others would agree that she was just as equally infatuated with you, but you couldn’t see that. Neither could Paige honestly.

She’d never taken the time to think about your friendship and how it was basically equivalent to a relationship. No, you guys were never intimate sexually but you were in almost every other way. Hell, you’d been sleeping in each other’s bed for the past six months (something Nika thought was so weird.)

Still, no lines were ever crossed the way you’d honestly hoped. So, you tiptoed on the line between but never said anything as long as she didn’t.

You realize how long you’ve been holding her, growing warm in the face when Ice sends you a look. You pull away, moving to hug the rest of your teammates and join in on the celebration dance Kk started.

You all line up to give your ‘good games’ and pats on the back to USC before returning back to the court. You watch as Paige excitedly jumps, pushing Geno around and can’t help the smile that automatically makes its way on your face.

Some interviewers pull a few players aside, Paige included, leaving you to comfort a crying Nika.

For the sake of pictures, team management passes out your shoot-around shirts to put back on along with a matching cap. You all mingle around the court, waiting for the trophy to be brought out.

To add on to the celebration, confetti was set off, which you immediately start scooping off the floor to throw at Geno.

While Paige is still getting interviewed, she spots you and Geno, smiling at your antics. She doesn’t even realize the trance she’s in until she realized she had missed the question the interviewer asked, who was looking at her with an almost knowing smile.

Paige felt like she was looking at you in a whole new light. The gravitational pull she felt towards you, the need to be close to you. She never realized how much she thought about you, or how you were the first person she looked for in a crowded room. Only now does she realize.

“Uh, what’d you say? My bad, I zoned out,” she apologizes, shaking her head and looking back to the interviewer.

The interviewer repeats her question, watching as her gaze flickers back and forth between her and you. This time though, Paige manages to answer the question before saying her thanks and returning to join the team’s celebration.

Once the trophy is brought out, the team huddles up to take pictures with it.

You sit front and center in the middle, beaming at the camera with the trophy between you and Aaliyah. Nika, who was on the other side of you, moves to make an open space for Paige, who would complain if she wasn’t beside you. To show her appreciation, she gives Nika a side hug, mumbling a small thanks in her ear.

Paige instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders, causing you to look at her and smile brighter.

Photographer’s stand in front of you, taking photo after photo. You look to the camera, feeling happier than you’d ever been.

Paige looks at the camera, for the most part, at least. Her eyes flicker to you again a few times, but she does her best to be professional.

After the team photos, photographers pull aside individual players for more photos. While you wait your turn, you stand around talking with Azzi and Caroline.

Paige returns from her individual photos, coming up behind you and grabbing your arm. She pulls you towards her, stealing you away from the current conversation you were in.

“Hi?” You say, but it comes out sounding like more of a question. Despite your confusion, you still smile up at her in a way that has her heart racing.

“You got somethin,” she mutters, reaching a hand up to your head. She carefully removes your cap, pulling at a piece of confetti tangled in your hair. “There.”

She holds up the piece of confetti to you, laughing softly. Before you can put your hat on properly, she flips it backwards and places it on your head, laughing even more.

“Paige, c’mon,” you groan, smacking her shoulder playfully. “Put it back!”

“But you look cute,” she protests, still laughing at you. “Okay, fine. Hold on real quick,” she says, pulling out her phone to, what you assumed, post on some social media platform and embarrass you.

“When did you even grab your phone?” You question her, because when did she find the time to retrieve it? She shrugs, smiling mischievously and continuing to unlock her phone.

It didn’t matter that there were plenty of photographers all around, along with cameras recording the interaction. She wanted the picture to herself.

You stare at the camera with an attempt at a blank expression, but with Paige staring at you the way she was, like she was completely and entirely in love with you? You couldn’t help cracking a small smile.

She looks at the picture for a moment, still smiling, which was causing her cheeks to hurt, before tucking her phone in the pocket of her shorts.

You continue to glare at her, waiting for her to fix your hat. She sighs, rolling her eyes before taking the hat off your head again.

This time, she flattens any stray hairs sticking out, wiping at one on your forehead. She places the hat back on your head the way it was originally, patting your cheek teasingly.

“All better, yeah?” She smirks, her gaze shifting down to your lips before back up to your eyes.

You quirk a brow at her, noticing her wandering eyes, telling her without words that you caught her. She doesn’t say anything either, raising her brows in amusement, putting her hands up in fake defense.

Before you can say anything back, you’re being called for your individual photos.

“Be back,” you turn to her, sending a sarcastic smile before turning on your feet. You don’t look back, trying to save yourself from adding to the heat on your face, but you feel her eyes on you.

“The editors are gonna have a field day with this,” Paige turns at the sound of Kk’s voice, rolling her eyes and pushing her away.

“You’re dumb,” she shakes her head, trying to play it all off. The blush on her cheeks said otherwise though.

“What? I’m keepin it real, you got caught lackin!” Kk snickers to herself, stopping when Paige sends her a ‘shut the fuck up’ look.

Finally, after all the photos, the team heads into the locker room. You were obviously tired from the game, but could still feel the adrenaline pumping from the win.

You’re packing up your bag, throwing a hoodie on over your jersey and slipping on your Uggs. The team slowly files out, leaving just you, waiting on Paige.

She decided to shower in the locker room bathroom, which you now realized you should’ve forced her to wait until you were home. You know how long it takes her to shower, yet you still agreed.

“You ready to go?” Paige emerges from the bathroom at least half an hour later. She’s dressed in a hoodie and sweats, drying her hair with a towel.

“Finally,” you sigh, standing from the bench you were sitting on with a stretch. Normally, Paige would have a snarky response, but one never comes. You look at her, confused when she sends a half-assed (and forced) smile. “Something wrong?”

“Listen, I was wondering if we could talk?” She speaks up, sitting down on the bench. You don’t hesitate to sit beside her, reaching for her hand.

“Of course,” you say reassuringly, despite the anxiety spreading throughout you. When she doesn’t say anything after a moment, you turn to her again. “Did I do something?”

“No, I just.. I realized something today and I need to tell you,” she rambles, pausing to lick her lips and finally meet your eye. “I think.. I think I’m in love with you. Not in a friend way, like-“

You don’t let her finish her sentence, using your free hand to grab her jaw and kiss her. She doesn’t kiss back immediately, caught off guard by the sudden action. But when she does realize what’s happening, she’s quick to pull you closer to her.

You kiss her until you’re out of breath, pulling back and panting like you just ran a mile. You’re not sure what to do now, looking up at her sheepishly.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” she breaks a smile, breathless herself.

“Shut up,” you shake your head, feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

“So does this mean..” Paige trails off, suddenly lacking her confidence to finish the sentence. She would hate for all that to have happened just to get rejected.

“Yeah,” you nod your head, standing up from the bench. You hold your hand out for her to take, which she immediately does. “Can we go now?”

“Let’s go home,” she breathes out, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder.

Just before you leave the locker room, she stops, grabbing your jaw to kiss you a second time.

“What’s that for?” You smile at her, tilting your head curiously.

“Just cause I can do that now,” she shrugs her shoulders, smiling proudly and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wlw post #wuh luh wuh #first post #im scared #ncaa wbb #wcbb

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cinturongazo · 10 months ago

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just got the weirdest anon for saying i didnt like happy gilmore

2 notes

⛺golferswantbeer Follow

just say you hate to see a narrative of unconventionally attractive men becoming valuable in classic aesthetically cisheteronormative elite fields. and you claim to be a communist, fucking liberal

0 notes

🐣chucklarryshipper Follow

girls don't want minimum wage girls want fun jokes and a chill hang out with a beer and to control the universe with a click and to organize a fake wedding so we can be each other's trophy husbands with tax benefits

4018 notes

🐱‍🚀c0medyangster 👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒 Follow

i kinda wish adam sandler didn't do so many comedy movies, i want a comedy movie that's just vaguely humourous but has substance, i can't handle jokes constantly being thrown at me

🦂shinel1kead1am0nd Follow

op uncut gems???

🐱‍🚀c0medyangster 👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒👒 Follow

too boring 😕 i want something more positive

5848 notes

😈clicnc-dom Follow

what if i were to hypnotize you so you don't remember me and i made you mine more than 50 times

10 notes

Based on your likes!

🐸laughingboss 🟢🔵Follow

need a hot chick with some banging long skater shorts that can handle a good fart joke

832 notes

🐸laughingboss 🟢🔵Follow

why do all the female sandlerheads dress like adam and not the multiple hot, empowered women he dates? dont they want to be empowered too?

💝dykesandler Follow

keep posting like that you'll see how many sandlergirls will fuck you

1420 notes

💝dykesandler Follow

look at what my butch found in the thrift store. you're not gonna hear from us for like a week lmao 🥴

1369 notes

👻elevatedsandlerhead Follow

i'm not an actual elevated sandlerhead appreciator i just post smut

80 notes

Since you were looking for #hubiehalloween

👻elevatedsandlerhead Follow

His to Control - Hubie x f reader

minors dni 🔞 - Content warnings below:

593 notes

🐱‍👤c1nephil3 🟢🔵👒👒👒👒👒👒Follow

Grown Ups 2 is a cheap, empty, corporate attempt to resuscitate the glory of Growns Ups (2010). The use of CGI instead of the practical effects awaited dearly by the public are a sign that anyone who enjoyed this movie is clearly not a connoisseur of the essence of the sandlerverse. too many callbacks to the original and what made it great instead of focusing on a real movie, too many forced references to the sandlerverse. characters weren't simpathetic or deep, a cliche of what hollywood expects us to laugh at. comedies should be deep and have your laugh coming from the depths of the abdomen until you're struggling to breathe. instead i struggled to not YAWN. Pathetic sequel, marks the death of cinema.

letterboxd - imdb - rotten tomatoes

8 notes

🍼 softlittlenicky Follow

𝐻𝒾… 𝐼'𝓂 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒩𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓎…. 𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝐿𝑒𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝑒𝒹𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 🍬 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎'𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓈. 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓋𝒾𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝓈? 🍭

👾fartylicious Follow

pixels, it's a nostalgia feast

🍼 softlittlenicky Follow

𝒾 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓍 𝒿𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓈 🍭 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 🤢

��peeandcock Follow

how did you get through little nicky then

🍼 softlittlenicky Follow

𝒾 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓎, 𝒾 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓅𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 🥺

42 notes

👹butchverse Follow

now why is he butch here

🧡adamsapphler Follow

would watch jack and jill if this was jack and jill. who said that

3984 notes

Based on your likes!

#i think i have all archetypes.... i hope. i cant think more jokes

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