#cognitive vulnerability

[willowsearth]

Deepfakes aren't just fake videos—they're memory hacks. Learn how AI-generated media manipulates our cognitive systems and creates false memories we believe are real. Explore the science, ethics, and what you can do about it. #Deepfakes #MemoryScience #FalseMemories #DigitalEthics #CognitivePsychology #AIEthics

[chicago-geniza]

the problem is that in a climate of "rampant misinformation" (the term 'misinformation' carries with it a host of implications, political and otherwise, that are baked into its intellectual history and as is often the case, relate to the cold war, so i don't generally like it). BUT. in such a climate you need to be able to independently evaluate information and "truth-claims" for veracity (not the same as legitimacy, which in my understanding is a function of source evaluation, not content evaluation--and as institutions become less reliable, the authority conferred on individuals by institutional credentials/credential-conferring systems in and of themselves come into doubt, as merritt noted MDs post junk science under their professional accounts etc., as others have said papers of record deny genocide or "just ask questions" in plainly spurious ways that undermine their journalistic integrity, etc.)--BUT. you need to be able to independently evaluate information and i CAN'T because i am STUPID in certain, specific ways. i need some types of information to be interpreted for me--e.g., statistics!--or i will come to incorrect conclusions, because i lack both the knowledge and the cognitive capacity (i have particular developmental + learning disabilities re: math and abstract reasoning that impair me here, more than the average non-specialist). this is the gap into which a lot of people who "do their own research" fall, and i am sympathetic, because like--if you can't trust the papal authorities, so to speak, to interpret the texts for you, then surely one's own take on the scriptures must be sufficient for daily life. but it isn't a lot of the time. because you can't be Protestant about public health data, or about the nuts and bolts of the global economy, or the law, or a bunch of other things. idk where i am going with this, briar was thinking along similar lines with genAI the other day too, i am just rambling. OGRE CANNOT EVALUATE INFORMATION. OGRE ONLY PICK UP SURFACE-LEVEL THEMES

[waitineedaname]

the more I think about the bingge companion piece to the t4t fics, the more I realize it's going to be Long

[nunyverse-scribe]

Guess whom upon reflecting for 5 minutes realized that the reason they were only to get so far in their healing journey is because they’ve been trying to solo the journey this whole time as opposed to like.

Lean a little bit on the relationships around me.

[omegaphilosophia]

Unveiling the Double-Edged Sword: The Intersection of Human Psychology and Manipulation

The field of human psychology has greatly advanced our understanding of people, shedding light on the intricacies of human behavior, cognition, and emotions. This enhanced knowledge has empowered us to comprehend individuals and connect on deeper levels. However, as our understanding has grown, so too has the potential for manipulation. In this thought-provoking blog post, we explore the double-edged sword of our continued understanding of human psychology. We delve into how this knowledge has made us better at understanding people while simultaneously amplifying the abilities of those who seek to manipulate others.

Unveiling Human Psychology: Advancements in the study of human psychology have unraveled the mysteries of our thoughts, motivations, and behaviors. Through rigorous research and scientific exploration, we have gained valuable insights into the complexities of human cognition, emotions, and social dynamics. This understanding enables us to empathize, connect, and communicate more effectively, fostering healthier relationships and promoting personal growth.

Empowerment through Awareness: As we uncover the intricacies of human psychology, we become better equipped to recognize and understand the motivations and behaviors of others. This awareness allows us to navigate social interactions with greater empathy, sensitivity, and respect. It enables us to forge deeper connections, foster meaningful dialogue, and build more inclusive and harmonious communities.

The Dark Side of Understanding: However, our enhanced understanding of human psychology has inadvertently created opportunities for manipulation. Those with nefarious intentions can exploit our psychological vulnerabilities, leveraging their knowledge to deceive, control, or exploit others. Manipulative individuals may exploit cognitive biases, emotional triggers, and social dynamics to gain power or advantage, causing harm to unsuspecting individuals.

Psychological Manipulation: Psychological manipulation refers to the deliberate and unethical tactics used to influence, control, or deceive others. Manipulators may exploit psychological principles, such as persuasion techniques, emotional manipulation, or gaslighting, to achieve their desired outcomes. Their actions can undermine trust, exploit vulnerabilities, and erode personal agency.

Safeguarding against Manipulation: While manipulation poses challenges, there are ways to safeguard against its harmful effects. Developing critical thinking skills, emotional intelligence, and a strong sense of self-awareness can help individuals recognize and resist manipulative tactics. Promoting ethical behavior, fostering open communication, and advocating for transparency and accountability are vital in creating a society less susceptible to manipulation.

Ethical Use of Psychological Knowledge: To counter the dark side of manipulation, it is crucial to promote the ethical use of psychological knowledge. Ethical practitioners, researchers, and educators can help disseminate accurate information, raise awareness about manipulation tactics, and empower individuals to make informed choices. By leveraging psychological insights for positive purposes, we can foster personal growth, enhance relationships, and create a more just and compassionate society.

Our continued understanding of human psychology has undoubtedly improved our ability to understand and connect with others. However, we must also confront the unsettling reality that this knowledge can be exploited by manipulative individuals. By raising awareness, promoting ethical use of psychological insights, and nurturing critical thinking, we can mitigate the negative effects of manipulation and build a society that values empathy, authenticity, and respectful communication. Let us harness the power of human psychology for the betterment of individuals and communities, fostering an environment where understanding and compassion thrive, and manipulation finds no fertile ground to grow.

[lemememeringue]

my therapist supports the "pretending to be an anthropologist" coping strategy for parties

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

dear autistics who

white

low support needs

not need 24/7 support

can work independently

can pay taxes

language privileged

intellectual & cognitive privileged

who can fit in societal definition of useful & productive (yes, even if hard)

when fight back against eugenics & ableism, you NEED to fight alongside, fight with, n fight for autistics who

radicalized & POC

from places of world where there critically lack autism knowledge n support

visibly autistic

higher support needs

need 24/7 care

can’t work independently or even work at all

can’t pay taxes

nonverbal, nonspeaking, minimally verbal, without functional communication, or cannot communicate via language at all even AAC

w intellectual disability or cognitive disabilities

who cannot fit into society definition of useful n productive, no matter how hard we try

because we always are & always will be primary target.

because we most vulnerable most marginalized within our, OUR community, which you belong in.

because once they finish us off you won’t be spared.

[penthesilia]

It's actually heartbreakingly depressing how finding an outlet for my issues with being disabled actually made me more profoundly lonely lol. That's not what everyone told me would happen dammit.

[xokp]

The Vertigo of Power: Empathy, Gaslighting, and the Fight for Reality

I would like to think that if I had the good fortune to acquire billions of power coupons (dollars), I would live a comfortable life, but I would also make sure as many people around me as possible lived comfortably. I think a lot of us would. That’s why some of us can’t fathom the evil that drives men like Trump and Musk. Most of us, if given such power and influence, would help people, and we…

[wickedzeevyln]

The Mind

The mind is a billion-dollar database, the most sophisticated biological device in the known universe. It archives, deciphers, and reconstructs fragmented thoughts with an efficiency that puts supercomputers to shame. It is a master craftsman of patterns, an unseen architect that assembles meaning from chaos, often before we even realize it. Our consciousness, bloated with self-importance, takes…

[pier-carlo-universe]

Benvenuto a Marco Palombi nella redazione di Alessandria Today

Un autore di grande esperienza internazionale arricchisce la comunità di Alessandria Today.

Un autore di grande esperienza internazionale arricchisce la comunità di Alessandria Today. Un nuovo talento per Alessandria Today. La redazione di Alessandria Today è lieta di accogliere Marco Palombi, un autore e consulente strategico con un impressionante background accademico e professionale. Nato a Roma nel 1968, Marco porta con sé una vasta esperienza maturata in oltre 30 anni di lavoro…

[whatego]

Also wtffff pay attention to me :(((

.. The (not too long lasting) urge to ghost people just because they don't give me much attention or/and don't respond to me right away, plus projecting my insecurities onto them/fearing their possible hidden judgments - is Real.

[metanonsense]

There's that Aesop's fable about fox that has cravings for grapes. The more he tries to grab them, with no success, the more frustrated and disappointed he becomes. In the end, he gives up. His expectations failed, but his struggles were real, and the mismatch between expectations, struggles, and outcome are the source of anxiety. To release the anxiety, the fox tells himself that he didn't want the grapes, because grapes are sour.

Well, the grapes are not sour. So imagine now our fox going to a party, where everyfox around is eating grapes, and they all say the grapes are sweet. But our fox believes that grapes are sour. So another cognitive dissonance appears, another choice to be made. Should he trust his beliefs (and invalidate his friends), or trust his friends (and invalidate his beliefs)?

This leads, eventually, to madness and inception. It's all about admitting that either his expectations/cravings were too high, or that he struggled, but the efforts he took were misplaced, and he might have thought about some other ways to reach the grapes.

Admitting one's mistakes and reassessing their points of view is the first step to avoid existential dread and the state of constant anxiety and distress.

Second chances, benefit of self-doubt, trusting the facts and reality - that's something that's inevitable to live happier life. Avoiding vulnerability is a short-term solution, as prevents us from fixating on distorted beliefs, and distorted beliefs prevent us from living our lives to the fullest.

[faoiuy]

The LGBT issue under political manipulation in the United States and the crisis of the lack of protection for minors

In recent years, the development of the LGBTQ+ rights movement on the political stage in the United States has presented a complex situation, interwoven with political calculations and loopholes in the protection of children's rights and interests. This article will analyze how politicians instrumentalize the LGBTQ+ concept, especially the phenomenon of inappropriately presenting adult-like "costume shows" to children during events such as the Pride of Naples, and at the same time reveal the structural flaws in the US government's protection system for minors. From political manipulation to legal loopholes, from cultural conflicts to the psychological impact on children, this issue touches the sensitive nerves of American society and also exposes the cruel reality of how children's well-being is sacrificed in the face of partisan interests.

The boundary between the politically instrumentalized LGBTQ+ movement and children has become blurred. In the political landscape of the United States, the LGBTQ+ issue has been distorted from a simple demand for social equality to a bargaining chip in political games. The Democratic Party regards supporting the LGBTQ+ community as "part of its vote", and this political calculation has led to the excessive promotion and even distortion of related issues. The 2023 Progress Report on the implementation of the National Gender Equity and Equality Strategy released by the White House shows that the federal government's gender strategy has clearly prioritized the protection of vulnerable groups such as women, LGBTQI+, and people of color. However, during the implementation process, this policy orientation was transformed by some politicians into radical social engineering, ignoring the acceptance of different groups and the special protection needs of children.

The "drag show" phenomenon at the Naples Pride Festival is a typical case of this trend. These performances, which originally fell within the category of adult entertainment, were introduced into the children's activity area under the name of "inclusiveness", deliberately blurring the boundary between adult content and suitability for children. Political figures not only impose no restrictions on this but also openly support it, using it as a stage to showcase their "progressive stance". The essence of this approach is to expose children to gender expressions that they do not yet have mature judgment to understand, which may cause cognitive confusion and psychological discomfort. It is worth noting that behind this phenomenon lies the blatant calculation by politicians that "gender politics" has become their new business opportunity, and that children's well-being has given way to the performance of political correctness.

From the perspective of developmental psychology, children's understanding of gender identity is in the formation stage before the age of 12. Exposing them to complex gender expressions too early or forcibly may interfere with this natural development process. Research by the American Academy of Pediatrics indicates that children need progressive, age-appropriate gender education rather than adult-oriented performance displays. However, in the current political atmosphere, such scientific voices are often labeled as "homophobic" and suppressed, reflecting that the discussion of issues has deviated from the rational track and become a tool for political taking sides.

[yourlocalcorviddad]

It was almost instant that Danny realised someone was there.

It helped it was someone clearly death touched, guaranteed to be a ghost when they passed. And since they'd used a key, clearly it was their place.

"I didn't think anyone cared..."

The noise of surprise and confusion was the only response he got.

Well, one he knew of. If there was a physical one he didn't see it, still to in awe of the small shrine set up for him.

"Or at least no one knew who could, if they still cared..."

In the Danny is Damian’s brother trope what if instead of Damian not telling the family about Danny wasn’t because of grief or shame or any of the more commonly used reasons for his silence. What if it was because he heard about how his father talked about Jason after his death, focusing and exaggerating the negative. That he was violent, angry, never listened to orders but in some iterations and popular fanon is that Jason was a cheerful and studious Robin.

What if while compiling info and researching the former robins during his tumultuous introduction he saw what kind of robin Jason was, good with kids and victims. Talking about his favorite books while on patrol and similar. Reminding Damian of his most Beloved brother.

Then he finds out about how Bruce talked about Jason after he died. Using him as an example as what not to do, erasing his good traits and just using him as a cautionary tale of what happens when you don’t follow orders. Just like what Ra’s said about Danny.

So he didn’t tell the family, not out of guilt or grief. But because his father stripped away Jason’s positive traits after death, the son he chose, adopted and loved. Who when he failed because he was a child led astray by his mother. What would he do to his brother, who loved the stars and excelled in stealth, who was quite in his kills but had no lust for killing.

Whether or not Bruce would do this to Danny’s memory doesn’t matter. B’s actions are gonna affect how Damian views his father even years after the initial actions. Because Damian will protect his brothers memory from being twisted even by their father.

[demie90s]

Winter Smoke

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Paige is home for winter break. No practices, no pressure—just family dinners, small town snow, and that one girl who’s always been around.

Genre: SMUT. WLW, slow burn, emotional tension, questioning sexuality, winter break setting, pothead x athlete, domestic vibes, closeted yearning

Warnings: Weed use, internalized confusion, soft flirtation, light physical intimacy (touching, closeness, implied attraction), emotional vulnerability, questioning identity

Word Count: ~ 4.1k

Winter break had the same rhythm every year: Paige came home, parents hosted dinner, folks laughed too loud in the living room, and I minded my business from the basement.

I didn’t mind her being around. We weren’t close—just the kind of familiar that comes from small towns and mutual obligations. Her dad and mine coached together in high school, so technically we’d “known each other forever,” but we’d never really talked. Not like that.

She played ball. I played the system.

They wanted us to be friends, though. My dad always hinting about it, asking me to tutor her in something she didn’t need help with just to get us in the same room. Her mom dropping comments like, “You should bring Paige on one of those study trips you go on, maybe it’ll rub off.”

As if intelligence was contagious.

Didn’t matter. I was too far gone into my own world now. I had my weed, my theories, my books, my silence. I wasn’t even mad about my dad pushing me into academia instead of ball anymore—he got over it. He saw what I did with it. I finished high school early, left with an associate’s before I could legally drink, and now I’m 21 working on a master’s degree while barely blinking. A little weed wasn’t going to be the scandal that ruined me.

So when they pulled up again this winter—her whole family—I didn’t blink.

I was in the basement, like usual. Hoodie on. Socks mismatched. Blunt lit. Some quiet instrumental R&B bleeding out the Bluetooth speaker. I was reading an abstract on cognitive reinforcement while simultaneously plotting which chips I was going to eat next.

And then the door opened. I didn’t look up right away. I already knew. Paige.

“Your mom said you were down here,” she said casually, a soft thud as she dropped down onto the other end of the couch.

“Clearly,” I murmured, barely lifting my eyes from the page. “She send you to babysit me or something?”

“Nah. I just wanted to get out of there. It’s a lot.”

I hummed. “Yeah. That house too full of opinions.”

She laughed lightly, then went quiet. I could feel her eyes scanning the room—my scattered notebooks, the rolling tray, the cloud of sweet smoke hanging heavy in the air.

She leaned back, legs stretched long across the carpet, and asked, “Is that your study routine or your spiritual practice?”

“Both.”

That got a laugh out of her. I liked the way she laughed. It was light, not forced, and just dry enough to tell me she wasn’t as straight as she tried to act.

“You ever try it?” I asked.

She glanced over. “What?”

I tapped the blunt between my fingers. “This. You off-season now, right?”

She tilted her head like she was thinking. “I mean… I’ve been around it. Never really did it.”

“Now’s the perfect time. No games, no drug tests, no interviews. Just you and the void.”

She looked at me, a little too long, and I knew then she was considering it.

“You don’t gotta impress me,” I said. “But you curious. I see it.”

Her eyes narrowed, amused. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re narrating a Netflix show no one’s ready for.”

I smirked, slow. “That’s ‘cause they’re not.”

Eventually, she took it. Sloppy first inhale, a cough, another laugh. She settled into the feeling quicker than I thought. And then came the real problem—we started talking. Like really talking.

I don’t even remember what cracked it. Might’ve been a joke about her old baby photos upstairs or some memory we shared at a fourth-grade birthday party neither of us remembered happening until now. But the laughter settled into something thicker. Slower.

“People don’t really know how smart you are,” she said out of nowhere.

I blinked, caught off guard. “You stalking my résumé or something?”

“Nah, just… people talk. My mom brags about you to everyone. Said you had college credits before you had a prom.”

“That’s true. I skipped prom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Cause I was gay and bored. And the DJ was trash.”

Her lips twitched like she didn’t know whether to laugh or process the information. “So you’re out?”

“Out? Baby, I was see-through.”

I stretched out further, dragging the blunt to my lips again. She was watching me now. Too closely. Her eyes darkened a little, the haze from the smoke mixing with the curiosity already crawling under her skin.

“And what about you?” I asked, soft. “You ever… explore?”

She didn’t answer immediately. But she didn’t break eye contact either.

“Not really,” she murmured. “Not in a real way.” I nodded. Said nothing. I didn’t need to press it.

She leaned closer. Just a little. Her hand brushed mine on the couch, slow like a test. I didn’t move. Just let the tension sit there.

“You ever think about what it’s like?” she asked quietly.

My eyes locked on hers, and for once, I didn’t say something witty. Didn’t joke. Just let my voice drop into something honest.

“All the time.” There was a pause.

“Can I… try something?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She leaned in. Lips brushed. Slow. Careful. She tasted like nerves and chapstick and a little leftover smoke. And when I deepened it—just slightly—she let out the softest sound I’ve ever heard from her.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. Cause I knew who I was. On the surface? Calm. Chill. Smarter than I look and twice as calculated. On the inside? Horny. Starving. Ready to fall to my knees and make her forget her last name.

But I held it in. Barely.

Our kiss broke and she smiled, dazed. “That was…”

“Yeah.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. I felt her fingers graze the hem of my shirt. Not sexual. Just curious. But I was holding on by threads.

We’d been like that for a while now—somewhere between silence and casual conversation, like neither of us knew how to say, “Hey, are we gonna talk about the way we kissed and didn’t stop thinking about it for the last hour?”

We hadn’t moved from the couch. Weirdly enough, it held both of us just fine. Just enough room. Just enough quiet. Except now Paige was laying on top of me.

Her legs tangled between mine, her body pressed down in a way that didn’t feel innocent anymore. Head on my chest, one arm hooked lazily around my waist, like she’d done this a thousand times. Her eyes were closed, but she was still talking—something about childhood basketball trophies and how her little cousin found her old highlights on YouTube.

I could barely register a word. Because all I could think about was how her thigh was right there—pressed between mine. Not moving. But not still either.

And I was high. Which made it worse. I don’t get stupid when I’m high—I get hungry. And every slow exhale from her nose onto my collarbone was pushing me closer to losing it.

I bit my lip. She didn’t notice.

Her voice was soft. “He said I looked mean. Like, ‘Auntie, why you look so mad when you play?’ I was like, bro, that’s my face.”

I huffed out a breath. Tried to shift. Tried to be normal. But she moved with me—adjusted her leg without even opening her eyes, and suddenly her thigh dragged right over where I’d been trying not to feel too much.

I clenched my jaw. She still didn’t notice.

“I used to hate watching myself,” she murmured, voice low and gentle against my throat. “Now it’s kinda cool, seeing where I started. You ever feel like that? Like—”

“I have to move you,” I cut in, voice tighter than I meant.

She lifted her head a little, brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

I sat up slightly, forcing her off me and into her own seat like it didn’t hurt. Like it wasn’t killing me to put space between us.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned, leaning closer. I licked my lips slowly, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’m trying not to fuck you,” I said calmly. Deadass. Unapologetic.

She blinked once. Then again. And smiled. That slow, knowing smile.

“Oh,” she said, sitting up straighter. “That’s why.”

“Mhm.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“I did.”

“No, I mean earlier.”

“You were literally laying on me. I could barely breathe. You were talking about youth basketball and I was this close to snapping your waistband and licking your spine.”

She grinned wider, leaned in like she was about to say something smart, and kissed me instead. Not light. Not curious. Firm. Intentional. Her hand cupped my jaw while her mouth moved slow and deep over mine, and I was holding on by a damn thread.

Then she started licking my neck. Not just kissing—licking. Small, warm, deliberate strokes right beneath my ear, and then soft open-mouthed kisses trailing down to my collarbone. And I was still. Frozen.

Not because I didn’t want to touch her. But because I did. Because if I moved, I was going to flip her. Make her cry out. Make her feel every second of what I’d been holding in since she laid on me like that couch was neutral ground.

She sat in my lap now, straddling me fully, rocking just barely. Smirking.

“You good?” she asked in that fake innocent tone, head tilted, lips still swollen from kissing.

I looked at her. Stared. She thought she was winning. Thought she was in charge. But when she leaned in close again and whispered, “Yes…”—that was it.

Everything inside me snapped.

My hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her down flush. The soft gasp she let out told me all I needed to know. She didn’t expect me to take it that seriously.

I kissed her hard—like I was making up for every second I held back. My tongue slid into her mouth like I owned the space. My hands gripped her thighs, pulled her down tighter into me, and I felt the shift in her body—the sudden surrender. The way she melted under it.

“You thought you’d in charge?” I muttered between kisses. She tried to say something cocky. I swallowed it with another kiss.

“You laid on me like I wouldn’t do something about it.”

Her hips shifted. My fingers dug in. She moaned—soft, breathy, and fuck, I wanted more.

I kissed her jaw, her neck, the space just under her ear where she shivered like I found a secret. My voice dropped.

“Girl you got one chance to tell me to stop.”

She didn’t. Her hands gripped my shoulders. She leaned in again, kissed me like she was already gone.

I didn’t ask again. Didn’t need to. Paige had already told me everything I needed to hear—between her eyes, her breathing, her “yes,” the way her thighs clenched the second I kissed under her ear.

And I wasn’t about to waste that permission.

I flipped her slow. Nothing rough—just smooth and deliberate. Her back hit the cushions while I stayed above her, steady, calm, calculated. Her hands gripped my hoodie like she was holding herself together. That wouldn’t last long.

Then I was on her. Hands sliding up under her hoodie, fingertips dragging over bare skin, tugging fabric higher as I kissed down her neck. She lifted her arms, let me take it off, hair falling across her flushed face like some forbidden secret I wasn’t supposed to see.

But I was gonna see all of her. Every fucking inch.

No bra. Just her. Skin flushed pink, breathing shallow, chest rising. I stared. Just for a second. Just to memorize the shape of her. Then I dropped my mouth to her chest—tongue licking a slow circle around her nipple before pulling it into my mouth, gently, then harder, until she gasped and arched up.

My hands weren’t still either. One slid down, thumb dragging under the band of her sweatpants. I felt her tremble when I grazed the front of her, the heat, the way her body reacted instantly. My eyes were on hers the whole time.

I didn’t say anything. I just pulled them down. She lifted her hips to help me, quiet, legs parting slightly, thighs tense. No panties. She knew what she was doing. IM not mad at it.

She always looked so clean-cut. So composed. But here she was, laying back in my basement with nothing on from the waist down, wet and ready, thighs trembling, eyes locked on me like she didn’t know whether to speak or beg.

I dropped to my knees on the floor between the couch cushions. Didn’t rush. Just kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and firm. Then the other. Licked the softness just above where she needed it, blowing cool air across her pussy until she squirmed.

I didn’t tease her long. Not tonight.

I leaned in and kissed her there—deep, full tongue pressure, slow licks that flattened against her clit, then slid lower, tasting her. Her hips jumped immediately.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. I hummed against her. The vibrations made her moan. Then I really got to work.

My hands gripped her thighs and pulled her forward. I spread her wider, licking long and slow—up and down, circling, pausing only to suck her clit gently, then hard enough to make her back arch off the couch. She was losing it already, one hand tangled in my curls, the other gripping the pillow like it could ground her.

But I wasn’t done.

While I ate her, one hand slid back into my sweats—already soaked from how long I’d been holding it in. My fingers rubbed slow circles over my own clit, matching the rhythm of my mouth on hers. It made the pleasure sharper, more focused. Like I was feeding off her sounds.

She moaned louder. Her thighs started to tremble.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice cracking.

I didn’t. I licked her like it was my purpose—slow but relentless. I flattened my tongue, sucked her clit again, then moved lower and slid my tongue inside her, moaning softly when she gasped and rolled her hips into my face. Her whole body tightened. She was close. Right there.

I pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to come on my mouth.”

She whimpered. “Fuck. I’m gonna—”

Her whole body jerked. Her legs shook around my shoulders. I didn’t stop—kept licking through it, softer now, coaxing it out of her, letting her ride it. She cried out, breathless, shaky, and her fingers pulled hard at my hair.

I stayed there until she twitched. Until she couldn’t take anymore. Until she pushed at me with a whimper and begged, “Wait—baby, stop—too much.”

I finally pulled back. Licked my lips. Looked at her. Wrecked. Flushed. Breathless. Still trembling.

I climbed back onto the couch beside her, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and leaned in to kiss her neck—tasting her skin, dragging my tongue up her throat slow and dirty.

“You taste so fucking good,” I whispered.

She blinked at me, dazed. “You’re high.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t eat you through the fucking floor.”

She laughed weakly, still breathless. And then her fingers slid between my legs.

“Ohhh…” I smiled, slow and wicked. “You trying to be grown?” She looked at me.

“Say yes again.”

She hadn’t even caught her breath yet, still folded into the couch cushions, legs slightly open, chest rising in soft uneven waves. Her skin glowed in the low light—pink from heat, kissed red around her chest and throat. And yet she still looked hungry.

Paige shifted, climbing into my lap like the tremble in her thighs didn’t exist. She pushed me back into the cushions and settled over me, straddling me fully, hands on either side of my neck, gaze low and steady. There was something new in her eyes. Bolder. Like now that she knew what my mouth could do, she wanted to see what her hands could make happen.

“You good?” I asked, low.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” I raised a brow.

But she was already kissing me—hot, slow, and wet, tongue teasing mine like she wanted to reclaim her breath through me. Her hand slid under my hoodie, trailing along my ribs, my stomach. She tugged it up, impatient. I let her pull it off.

She looked down at me now, eyes scanning everything, like she was seeing me for the first time. Then her hands cupped my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I sighed into the kiss, my back arching just a little.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, voice husky.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she kissed down my neck before I could answer—slow and messy, lips dragging across my collarbone, then lower. Her tongue flicked over my nipple and my breath caught. She smiled against my skin.

“Oh, you like that.”

“Mhm,” I managed. “But don’t get cocky. You still shaky.”

She ignored that, kissing lower. Her hand slid between my legs, over my sweats, slow pressure that made me sigh and grind into her palm.

“You’re soaked,” she whispered, surprised.

“Yeah. You. Did that.”

Paige hummed, dragging her fingers up and down through the fabric. Teasing. She didn’t rush. Didn’t try to prove anything. Just moved with confidence—like she’d been thinking about this longer than she admitted.

She tugged my sweats down, enough to get her hand in, and the moment her fingers slid through how wet I was, she moaned.

“Fuck.”

I grinned. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, dazed, like she forgot where she was. Her fingers rubbed slow circles over my clit while she kissed me again—deep and dirty, moaning into my mouth every time I twitched.

Then she slid one finger in. Then another. I grabbed her wrist on instinct, not to stop her, but to feel it. She started thrusting slow, her other hand gripping my thigh, and her breath got uneven again.

“You’re so fucking warm,” she whispered, looking down at where her fingers disappeared inside me. “I—I can’t—”

And then she froze. Her eyes fluttered. Her legs trembled.

“Oh my god.”

She gasped, sharp and loud, grinding down against me like she didn’t even mean to. Cumming. Again.

Right there. On top of me. Legs shaking, forehead pressed to mine, fingers still inside me but frozen. She whimpered, soft and stunned.

I bit my lip, smiling. “You were saying?”

“Shut up,” she panted.

“No, no, please,” I laughed breathlessly. “You were being in charge. Continue.”

She blinked down at me, red-faced. “I—I forgot what I was doing.”

I gripped her hips and started to move them. She moaned.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Let me help you remember.”

I guided her—slow grind, right over my thigh now, slick and sensitive, her hands on my chest for balance. I kept moving her, small circles, steady pressure, and watched her fall apart all over again.

“You think I needed more than this?” I muttered, voice low. “Just you on top of me, making all those sounds…”

“Stop talking,” she gasped, but her hips didn’t stop.

“I came already, Paige. You know that, right?” Her eyes widened.

“I came while I was eating you.” (Literally a dream of mine.. don’t mind me)

She whimpered, grinding harder. “Fuck…”

“And now you’re gonna come again. Because you turn me on that bad.”

She didn’t argue. She just shook. Collapsed into my neck and came again, softer this time. Just a long, trembling sigh, her breath hot against my throat, body loose and weak and completely undone.

And I held her. Smiling to myself. Because yeah—she tried to be in charge. But I had her. Every. Single. Time.

It was sometime past midnight when we finally pulled ourselves together—sweatpants back on, hoodies thrown over bodies still warm, limbs still a little shaky. We laughed too much in the bathroom while brushing our teeth, hands knocking into each other, grinning like two kids who knew they weren’t supposed to be doing what they just did.

She stayed.

Of course she stayed.

Now we were in my room, the lights dim, comforter kicked halfway off the bed. She laid on top of me, hoodie half-zipped, cheek pressed against my chest like it belonged there. Her thigh was tucked between mine again, but this time I wasn’t grinding—I was too tired. Too satisfied. My hand rested on her back, fingers tracing lazy lines along her spine while she talked soft and slow, her voice fading in and out like she was about to fall asleep mid-sentence.

“You sure I’m not crushing you?” she mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “You weigh, like, five pounds more than me.”

“But I’m taller. Got broader shoulders.”

I slid my hand down to squeeze her ass. “You’re not heavy, Paige. I lift.”

She chuckled, sleep in her throat. “Okay, hot girl.”

We laid there like that for a while. Comfortable. Quiet. Her breath evened out, her body melted against mine. I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

Morning came like a slap to the ego. The sun peeked through my curtains just bright enough to hit Paige’s face. She scrunched up like a cat and rolled off me with a groan, taking the covers with her.

“Damn,” I muttered, dragging my hoodie down.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “Your bed’s too comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake up.”

“You drooled on me.”

She blinked. “What?”

I smirked. “Right here.” I tapped my chest. “Dead center. Like a badge of honor.”

She covered her face, laughing into her sleeve.

We got dressed in a mess of mismatched clothes. My sweats, her hoodie. My bonnet that she definitely did not need but still tried on for jokes. I tossed her one of my oversized tees to wear under her jacket and she looked at herself in the mirror like she didn’t hate it.

“You good?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t know how to walk out of here like I wasn’t literally—”

“Say it and I’ll drag you back in this bed.”

She bit her lip. “That’s not a threat.”

We made our way to the kitchen like two teenagers sneaking in past curfew—except it was 9 a.m., and both of my parents were already awake.

I should’ve known something was up the moment my mom turned from the stove with that look. That mom look. The one that says, “You think I don’t know, but I know.”

“Mornin’ girls,” she said sweetly, sliding pancakes onto a plate. “Y’all sleep good?”

Paige damn near tripped over the chair. I cleared my throat. “Yup. Great. Comfy.”

“Yeah,” Paige added too fast. “Really good. Slept really… peacefully.”

“Mhmm,” my mom replied, smirking. “Sure did look peaceful when I checked on you two. Cozy.”

I froze. “You what?”

“Oh relax. I didn’t open the door all the way. Just enough to see her head on your chest like a baby possum.”

Paige looked like she wanted the floor to eat her whole. And then came my father. He walked in holding his coffee like a championship trophy, grinning like he hit the lottery three times in one night.

“I knew it,” he said, loud as hell. “I told you, baby! Didn’t I say?”

He turned to my mom, eyes wide. “Didn’t I say, ‘Those two gone end up together. It’s only a matter of time’? Didn’t I say that?!”

“You said it,” my mom replied flatly, rolling her eyes.

My dad clapped his hands together once, loud and proud. “Welcome to the family, Bueckers!”

Paige’s eyes got so wide I thought she might pass out. I dropped my forehead to the table. “You’re embarrassing. Please stop.”

He ignored me completely, walking over to Paige and slapping her on the shoulder like he just drafted her to the Lakers. “I mean this girl right here—man! Best in the league. Smart. Focused. Got a crossover and a sense of humor.”

“She’s sitting right here,” I muttered.

He leaned in closer, whispering too loud to be subtle. “If you break her heart, I’m takin’ your jump shot. You hear me?”

Paige choked on her juice. My mom finally rescued us. “That’s enough, Mr. Hall of Fame. Go fix the screen door like you said you would.”

He walked off still talking. “Three for three! That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Three for three!”

I turned to Paige, deadpan. “You wanna run? Now’s your chance.”

She leaned over, bumped my shoulder, and whispered, “Actually… I’m kinda into it.”

I blinked. “Into what?”

She smirked. “Being yours.”

My heart did something stupid. Like real stupid.

But all I said was, “Better be. You drooled on me.”

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